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

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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 this 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 from the spout in my to-go cup like Old Faithful. </span></span>

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Crap, Crap, Crap.

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