Seasick

July 21s, 2008 Monday 5:26 PM Royal Caribbean Cruises
It had been a quiet refuge for me until now - I wandered the decks and found the places that were empty of other travelers, like some kind of anti-social spectre sneaking around the ship with Youth Pictures mellowing over my headphones. The smell of the sea and the blowing wind that others seemed to disdain, I would enjoy, lingering in the silence and quiet.

But even the walk of the lone wanderer loses its excitement after a time, so I slunk down five decks to the theatre to watch a movie. The last time I'd been there, it had been deserted, the projector flashing a stark blue tapestry on the wall like a big brother film, and I sat and enjoyed the rare moment of being in the dark and alone. But this time it was occupied by a small group of adults, chattering to each other in anticipation of the film.

I tried to lose myself in the movie, to forget I was on this ship for week, but my arm was empty, draped over the seat next to me in the empty row I had found, far away from the other moviegoers. I stared down at my feet for a while, a mournful trumpet singing in my head until she murmured love to me from hundreds of electronic miles away. I sighed and settled in, resigned to watch the movie.

It's been an hour or so of watching Alex Supertramp run from his parents and his tortured memories and cold sweat has begun to leak from my forehead. I swallow hard and breathe, trying to fight the feeling. I hadn't been seasick since getting on this ship - hell, I prided myself on my sea legs and strong stomach. But the confines of the theatre hide the swell outside and the motion of the film confuses my ears. I get up and stretch, pretending I feel fine, trying to trick myself into comfort again, but my stomach clenches. I snatch my bag and flee out into the mood lighting of the sports bar.

The announcers scream scores at me as my vision hazes and my footing gets risky. Jesus, look at these lizards! We must get tennis shoes or we'll never get out alive. My stumbling gait alarms no crewmen as I reach for the elevator button. I must get some fresh air; yes, that will cure me.

The top deck is a windy terror. I clutch my useless radio to my belt and suck in freezing air, staring out into the blackness. Somehow the sea air will heal me, I know it! I just have to keep breathing it like it's the last gasp of in your oxygen tank. I grip the railing with weak-willed tenacity and grit my teeth as the sea swell toys with my balance. This is a waste of time.

Belowdecks it is silent. It must be past midnight by now. Where I once stalked the halls and feasted on the silence, it seems dead. The ship is a deserted hulk, run aground, crew killed by toxins, every surface crying death, the jazz trio in the lounge makes a mockery of the damned in a once-cheerful melody that has become the haunting cackle of the deranged. I stab the elevator button with a force that seems to suck the energy out of my very soul. I suddenly slump, my will to fight gone. I shamble onto the descending lift as the speed juggles my intestines and tempts me to retch. Thankfully the elevator is empty, so nobody sees my obvious discomfort. The ship is dreadfully afraid of plague - they would make me walk the gangplank as they prodded me with plastic-shod lances.

The hallway towards the room is long and seems to warp as I drag my feet over the thick, absorbent carpet. I hold my room key out in front of me like a lantern vigil, trusting it to somehow guide my bleeding mind to the right door. I feel like a zombie; I'm sure drool is leaking from one side of my mouth at least.

The room is empty and dark. I trip over something on the floor and sprawl halfway onto my bed, moaning and pulling myself up onto the sheets with shivering claws. I kick off my lead boots, not bothering with the rest of my clothes, and throw my bag on the floor beside. I shut my eyes, surrendering to sleep, and dream of falling down an endless passage…