Whale Watchers

Whereas it seemed there were fewer breaches of the water by lovesick humpbacks whales than the projections of vomit by seasick passengers, I confess the 5-plus-hour trip was well worth the steep price of admission. The water was so choppy on this otherwise beautiful New England afternoon that it felt we were all aboard a 50-foot long drunken horse galloping through the streets of San Francisco. The voyage began under a uniformly blue sky occupied by nothing more than the sun. As we boarded the vessel passengers rushed for prized positions deck side to soak in the sunlight.

However, shortly after setting off and achieving full speed along the choppy waters, the wind roared and pales of waves spritzed coolly and wetly over and into the vessel’s side thresholds, and passengers ducked for cover into the sheltered cabin. Minutes later a whale enthusiast Gloucestered (my newest euphemism for projectile vomit) her lunch into — well, almost into — a trash bin, resulting in the most profitable protein spill I ever did witness, one which BP would no doubt appreciate. The smell, however, was so repulsive that nearly everyone evacuated the cabin in favor of wearing bucket loads of Atlantic Ocean on their clothing.

Hours later, and still nothing. Children amused themselves singing We Are the World. I suggested the theme to Free Willy would be more appropriate, but no one could remember the lyrics. While the more talkative of my fellow passengers attempted to guess others’ ages, I sought to obtain items with which I could fashion a harpoon. In the event that we did see one of those bastards, I wanted to be fully prepared to eat it.

But yes, we finally did see some whales. They breached, bandied about, paddled the water with authority and left us all thoroughly entertained, if but for 15 minutes. And yes, it was worth it. No one was harmed, even the whales. Though most of us did learn a bit more about the contents of half-digested lobster rolls and cole slaw than we thought proper for such an occasion.