Two old men, one young woman, and the sea: Part III

So D stops the boat and I go below deck for a pee break in the most luxurious of sea potties: a five-gallon plastic bucket. I've written before of how D gave me a squirrel tail in a Skippy peanut butter jar one year as a birthday gift; he promised to shoot enough squirrels to line the rim of the bucket. Luckily for the squirrels, this has not happened.

Post-pee, which also involves dumping the bucket into the ocean and swishing it out with seawater, I sat on a cooler, figuring a lower center of gravity was a safer bet, and it was. When we arrived at Jeffreys Bank, I went below for another pee (I have a small bladder) and this turned out to be my biggest mistake. Below deck is the worst place to be if you tend to get seasick. I was down there for all of five minutes and when I came up I could feel the beginnings of other things wanting to come up, if you catch my drift (oceanic pun intended, thank you very much). I told PP I wasn't feeling so hot. He looked a little annoyed. He likes his daughters tough as nails.

For all of you who were wondering if I was going to contribute some free chum to the fishing party (joe), I didn't. I don't know if it was the Dramamine, but I managed to avoid throwing up. I did this by laying flat on my back on a cooler with my legs on a bench for the better part of an hour. Sitting up or even rolling over made my stomach lurch.

Eventually I headed up to the bow of the boat and laid down up there. After another half an hour or so I felt well enough to sort of sit up and watch the horizon which, as D told me, can help. It did. Then D started rolling out some fantastic jokes in an effort to cheer me up...