Vacation Horror Story
Are we there yet???
Although we live only four hours away from Atlantic Beach, North Carolina, I could hardly wait to arrive. This year, my husband and I were celebrating our anniversary at my favorite place to be…the beach! I could hardly wait to step foot on the hot sand, the waves washing over my toes. With every mile, I silently urged him on, to step a little harder on the gas. Obviously, I’m not equipped with whatever it takes to mentally influence another human being because it still took us four hours to get there.
Finally….we arrived! We checked into the room, as usual, and unpacked our few belongings. We only planned to stay for a weekend, but we were determined to make it extra special. Donning our swimsuits, we took a dip in the pool and began making plans for the next day.
On the way in, we had seen a huge sign advertising Captain Stacy’s Fishing Center. We both enjoy fishing – although I don’t know a lot about it – but we had only fished from the pier on previous trips. But, here before us, was a fishing center, complete with offers of a 1/2 day of fishing out on the beautiful Atlantic Ocean or a whole day. Seeing as how this was our anniversary, my husband and I decided to splurge on the whole day. When we returned to our room, I picked up the phone and made reservations to go the next day. The boat would leave the dock at 6am with approximately 60 other ‘fishermen’ aboard.
After a leisurely – and romantic – walk on the North Carolina shore, we went to bed. I anticipated a wonderful day ahead, never realizing how wrong I was. And, boy, was I wrong!
The day started off good. The alarm clock went off right on time and with my pent up excitement, I – never known to be a morning person – fairly jumped out of bed. It was a short drive to the docks and I rattled off how many fish I would catch, how I couldn’t wait to see the sun rise, and how I was definitely going to catch more fish than my husband. Being the good-natured sport that he is, he just let me ramble on to my heart’s content, interjecting the occasional ‘um, hum’ here and there to remind me he was still listening.
True to their word, the boat pulled away from the dock promptly at 6am. We, the other ‘fishermen’ and I, began the trip sitting on deck, watching the shoreline disappear as we headed out to sea. Another first for me! I had never been far enough away not to see land. This was so exciting. Soon the sun peaked over the horizon. I stood up and held onto the railing to get a better view. What a glorious sunrise! I couldn’t have asked for a more perfect day. From time to time we also noticed jellyfish near the surface of the water and the occasional dophin. Like a child, I was enthralled with the newness and wonderment of it all.
Soon, we began to get hungry. We hurried down to the galley for breakfast. An old cook who looked like he’d been around since the days of Blackbeard greeted us gruffly and delivered an incredible breakfast of toast, bacon, and eggs to our table. One look at it and….and….my stomach began to churn.
I had heard that sea sickness was a possiblity. I’d even heard that some of the folks had taken Dramamine prior to boarding the ship. The old cook took one look at me as I tried unsuccessfully to nibble my toast, and suggested I head up to the top deck. According to him that was the best place to be when you’re feeling queasy. Oh, and don’t forget the barf bags!
I had thought that morning sickness was miserable, but it was nothing compared to the utterly miserable situation I now found myself in. Not only was I using up an exorbitant amount of barf bags, I was stuck….stuck on a boat in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean……for the whole day! How I cursed myself (and poor hubby) for not choosing the 1/2 day fishing trip.
They (whoever ‘they’ are) say misery loves company, and on this day, on the top deck, I found myself with plenty of company. As miserable as I was, I can safely say I didn’t love having company. One older guy, a former Marine, offered some Dramamine. I took it gratefully, and prompted deposited it and the rest of my stomach’s contents into another barf bag. Would this day never end???
Soon, others began to join us. In all, out of the 60+ fishermen, approximately 20 of us were moaning and groaning on the top deck for the majority of the trip. A young man who had come on the trip as part of a bachelor party for his friend looked over at me and weakly said, “Wouldn’t ya just give $500 to get back to land?” I would have given that and more but, alas, there was no boat to take us back and there would be no boat. We were stuck.
From time to time my dear husband came to check on me. Each time I urged him to go back to his fishing. After all, that’s what we had paid for. Besides, thanks to me, our romantic and fun weekend was quickly deteriorating into the vacation from hell. As I lay on the deck, writhing in misery, the fishing center’s advertisement came to mind: From the time you arrive until the time you depart, you’ll experience pleasure after pleasure. Hmmmf!
By the time my feet touched land – beautiful, wonderful, glorious land – I was beginning to feel a bit better. As we drove away from the docks, I vowed to never go fishing again, not even for a 1/2 day. And my husband? He never once gloated about catching more fish than me. For our next anniversary, he suggested we stay home for a nice quiet dinner. I gratefully agreed. The fishing trip was definitely a horror, but the husband is definitely a keeper.
