Landlubber

I went sailing once. Two weeks in the carribean with my mom's side of the family. It was beyond words cool. Except for the throwing up. The entire trip burnt countless memories into my brain. My cousins, brother and I probably saw 10-15 shooting stars a night. We threw coconuts at trees on black sand beaches. We almost got lost in sea when we broke the motor on our dingy. I threw up a lot.

So now whenever I encounter large waves on a boat the puke memories take over. This happened a couple years ago. Leah and I were in Cancun. A city in Mexico. We went on a catamaran snorkeling trip. Hot sun, clear water, the promise of colorful fish. And waves. Large rolling suckers that stalked me from the past. My brain convinced my stomach it was happening. We stopped at the snorkeling spot and I got in hoping the cool water would work as some kind of salty suppository. I put the mask on so I could stare at fish. It smelled like rotten coffee. I instantly threw up. A herd of fish attacked my cloud of puke. Hundreds of them. This made me throw up more. Which multiplied the hundreds into thousands. All attacking my puke. Hitting my face, swarmed around my body, they were everywhere. I tried backstroking to get away from them. With every stroke I puked more. They tried getting into my mouth. They covered my chest and arms like a slimy sweater. I backstroked. The herd followed. I puked, creating another riot. Greedy fish looting my bile. It was a horrible circle of life. I was abused.

Eventually, I got back into the catamaran. Everyone was drinking magaritas. I did not. Leah was confused. I wasn't ready to tell her about the ravenous fish. I tried to focus on the good memories. Shooting stars, coconuts and a broken dingy.