The fishing trip deserves another post.

Alex was the only one to actually throw up, but the seas were rough, and I was a heartbeat away from horking several times myself. After never feeling sick on the cruise ship I was over-confident, and didn't take anything despite rough rough waters, tempting fate by guzzling beers and eating chicken fingers that Glynn brought along. And when I started to feel nauseous, I felt truly betrayed by my own body.

Subtle clue in this picture that I'm just barely keeping it together: The weird way I'm mindlessly clasping onto the hooks on that fish board. Why am I not holding it up? I think I was mostly concentrating on not barfing while the picture was being taken.