[caption id="attachment_5398" align="alignleft" width="300" caption="Is that you, Nessie?"]<a href="http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2011/05/P42900681.jpg"><img class="size-medium wp-image-5398" title="OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA" src="http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2011/05/P42900681-300x225.jpg" alt="" width="300" height="225" /></a>[/caption]

You may recall that not too long ago I had dreamed of traveling to Santa Barbara in March for a whale watching tour.

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I then cancelled my plans due to upcoming trips to Portland and Italy.  Until my money tree brings in the bigger bucks, I need to show some semblance of restraint.

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And then...wouldn't you know it?  Jimmykins needed a trophy date for Santa Barbara.  Twist of fate and twist my arm!

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On this ultra-indulgent President's Club trip, we were asked to pick daily activities to embark on.  I begged Jimmykins to reserve us a spot on the Whale Watching Tour.

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You know what often happens on Whale Watching Tours, right?  When it's this late in the whale watching season, you may not see any whales.  And there will always be people blowing chunks.

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I boarded the catamaran feeling quite cocky confident.  I've been on boats since I was in the womb.  My ancestry on my Mother's side is Portuguese.  Think back to history class.  Remember that Magellan dude?  Just one of a slew of Portuguese explorers.

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In addition, my father was a Merchant Marine.

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In other words, I don't do seasickness.  It's not in my blood.

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I assured the nervous Nelly behind me that it was windy, but look -- no swells!  Only white caps!  You didn't take your dramamine?  No problem.

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Just as I anticipated, we surfed through those white caps without issue.   A bumpy ride hurts your bum bum not your tummy (or, if we want to be technical, your inner ear).

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5 minutes in the captain spotted a gray whale and calf!  Hurrah!  No, that wasn't the Loch Ness Monster in the photo below.  Look closer!

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<a href="http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2011/05/P42900682.jpg"><img class="alignnone size-medium wp-image-5399" title="OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA" src="http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2011/05/P42900682-300x224.jpg" alt="" width="300" height="224" /></a>

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After stalking the mother and her calf for about 20 minutes and a hundred photos, the captain announced that we would head further out in search of humpback whales.  In a perfect foreshadow, he nonchalantly mentioned that Santa Barbara rarely experiences winds such as these (15 - 40 miles an hour), but he thought that he could navigate through the elements just fine.

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I entered the cabin for the first time at the captain's advice.  There was a tremendous amount of water hitting the deck, and even though I dream of being on Whale Wars where the crew gets soaked and chilled to the bone, this captain ordered everyone inside pronto.

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The cabin air was stuffy, and the only spot left to sit faced the back.  I started small talk with the couple sitting across from us.

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I first knew something was about to go terribly wrong when the female member of the couple started to turn <span style="color: #808000;"><strong>this color </strong><span style="color: #000000;">after we hit a swell that made my tea shoot like Old Faithful from the spout in my to-go cup.</span></span>

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<span style="color: #808000;"><span style="color: #000000;"><span style="font-size: large; color: #808000;"><strong>Holy Ocean Swells, Batman!</strong></span>
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Crap, Crap, Crap.

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The captain then informed us that the sudden smell of oil was not a leak from the boat, but naturally occurring oil from the depths of the Pacific.

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Between the smell, the stuffiness, and <span style="color: #808000;"><strong>the green woman</strong></span>, I started to feel a wee bit nauseated.  When <span style="color: #808000;"><strong>the green woman</strong></span> and hubby left our table (I'm assuming to power puke), I quickly hauled my hiney around the table to face forward.  Jimmykins reminded me to keep my eyes on the horizon which I could do when the swells weren't crashing against the window.

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Cubby* made his rounds while assessing the seasick percentage of passengers.  When he got to me, I blurted out, "Do you have any more of that ginger candy?!?!".  (I had declined the ginger candy 60 minutes prior when I was still cocky.)

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Cubby scrounged around for the last two pieces of ginger candy which tasted absolutely disgusting, but I somehow managed to suck on for dear life.

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And then...music to everyone's ears and stomachs:  "Humpback whale to the star bird side of the boat!  I will stop the boat and see if he comes closer."

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I ran to the deck while gasping for cool air which (thankfully) was now fresh and salty rather than oily.

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