Post by Grubb
Last night as I sat clutching the dinner table watching people topple over while my stomach lurched between the plunges and upthrusts of our pitching boat’s battle against an angry sea, the thought of eating a meal made me feel nauseous. The few passengers who had staggered to their seats like barflies at last call were turning pale as if they were ready to vomit. We all seemed like reluctant diners in a sick ward. Everyone that is, except Ella. With a cheerful smile on her face she asked me if I was all right. Did my turning green give it away? I started to sweat. Closed my eyes. Now nausea had my complete attention. Ella poked at me. “Stop thinking about it!” I opened my eyes and looked out the window at waves that belonged in a 19th century painting called “Shipwreck”. Ella asked me what I was going to order.
Order? That takes reading the menu which depends on having an appetite which I lost back when my main worry was losing my footing. Ella tells me it’s all in my mind. The medics on board help a woman away from her table. Ella pours another glass of sparkling water and tosses it back. It takes a trip to Norway to find out I’m married to a pirate!