“Which flight are you taking back from Belize City?” Sherry asked.
“I don’t think I’m going to fly back,” I told her. “The water taxi is so much cheaper. Maybe I can save some money for a change.”
Of course, as soon as the boat took off I remembered why I always fly back and forth to the city. This is especially true at Easter Holidays. The boat was packed from front to back with passengers.
“Hey, Dennis! Come sit with me.”
It was Dale Wallace, sitting in the stern of the boat on the long bench seat. He had just enough room for me to squeeze in next to him.
“Thanks,” I said. “I thought I was going to have to stand.”
The boat was about a mile out of Belize City when a stout middle-aged lady stumbled to the rear of the boat. She shoved her way between Dale and I and threw up over the stern.
“I’m so sorry,” she said, when she finally stood up. “I’ve never been on a boat before and it is obviously making me seasick.”
A few miles later she was hanging off the stern again saying, “Oh, sweet Jesus. Let me die now Lord.”
“To tell the truth, I’m starting to get a little sick myself just from watching her,” I told Dale, after she left.
“Well, just lean way out of the boat,” Dale said. “I don’t want you getting any on me.”
Once again the lady pushed between us.
“Oh, my God!” she said, with her head hanging over the back of the boat. “I’m dying! I’m dying!”
Dale said, “Ma’am, I know it’s hard to believe right now but no one has ever died from being seasick.”
“Oh, sir! Please don’t say that,” she said. “The thought of dying is the only thing that’s keeping me alive right now.”
