Maine Diaries: Troubled waters
Each spring students from
Maine Maritime Academy
set sail on their training ship the State of Maine
for a two-month cruise. One student, Paul Kemp*, has
agreed to share his experience.
June 8-We sit here, 1200 miles from land, riding this large steel beast that we call a ship across a torrent of cresting waves and green water. Anyone calling for the excitement of a good storm, in my mind, clearly has not spent any great deal of time on the water or they would know high seas, wind, and rain on any ship is a pretty poor time. And, quite frankly, I have no interest in seeing what other people had for breakfast strewn across the side of our ship.
Miraculously, though, there has been minimal seasickness. The popping of Dramamine has left many without illness, but has led to a majority of the crew walking around in some weird zombie-like trance as their minds and eyes seem to be messing with them. The human being wasn’t meant to undergo such conditions, and, in fact, our existence on water is that of an abnormality. We have no gills, no wings, and we sure as hell don’t like salt water, yet we try to adapt ourselves.
As the seas grew, wrist bands and patches located behind the ears began to appear on people, and some of the training captains reacted to the strange bucking of the ship by projectile vomiting across the deck onto some poor unseen student. And, of course, today was also a day planned to train with the emergency stretcher in a confined space. The sway of the ship, the tight spaces, and the smell have only added to the force of sea sickness. It caused a chain reaction among the cadets, and spread through the crowd like some twisted game of duck, duck, goose where the one who was it was the first one to “blow chunks.”
Yes, today, was a fun day aboard the training ship. God, I can’t wait until we hit land.
Previous posts:
May 5
May 7
May 9
May 10
May 12
May 13
May 17
May 18
May 19
May 21
May 23
May 26
May 28
June 2
June 3
June 6
*Paul Kemp is a pseudonym. The student has asked that his name be withheld out of respect for those with whom he is sailing.
June 8-We sit here, 1200 miles from land, riding this large steel beast that we call a ship across a torrent of cresting waves and green water. Anyone calling for the excitement of a good storm, in my mind, clearly has not spent any great deal of time on the water or they would know high seas, wind, and rain on any ship is a pretty poor time. And, quite frankly, I have no interest in seeing what other people had for breakfast strewn across the side of our ship.
Miraculously, though, there has been minimal seasickness. The popping of Dramamine has left many without illness, but has led to a majority of the crew walking around in some weird zombie-like trance as their minds and eyes seem to be messing with them. The human being wasn’t meant to undergo such conditions, and, in fact, our existence on water is that of an abnormality. We have no gills, no wings, and we sure as hell don’t like salt water, yet we try to adapt ourselves.
As the seas grew, wrist bands and patches located behind the ears began to appear on people, and some of the training captains reacted to the strange bucking of the ship by projectile vomiting across the deck onto some poor unseen student. And, of course, today was also a day planned to train with the emergency stretcher in a confined space. The sway of the ship, the tight spaces, and the smell have only added to the force of sea sickness. It caused a chain reaction among the cadets, and spread through the crowd like some twisted game of duck, duck, goose where the one who was it was the first one to “blow chunks.”
Yes, today, was a fun day aboard the training ship. God, I can’t wait until we hit land.
Previous posts:
May 5
May 7
May 9
May 10
May 12
May 13
May 17
May 18
May 19
May 21
May 23
May 26
May 28
June 2
June 3
June 6
*Paul Kemp is a pseudonym. The student has asked that his name be withheld out of respect for those with whom he is sailing.
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