Poseidon, You’re Krilling my Vibe

The company that my husband works for owns a boat and they let staff use it over weekends for free – skipper and all. Not bad, not bad at all. My husband’s boss invited the team to bring their wives and we’d make a day of it. A Mediterranean dream-come-true, right? Except for one tiny detail: I get queasy just looking at a boat. I wanted to join as I was very curious to meet my husband’s colleagues and their partners, I really wanted to leave a good impression but I was worried about the boat ride.

After some internal debate (and let’s be honest, a healthy dose of FOMO), I agreed to join. YOLO, right?

We met the skipper at the harbour, all six of us (the team of 3 plus the wives) ready for (mis)adventure, and off we went. I’d armed myself with herbal motion sickness tablets – the chemical kind knock me out – but it seemed I was worried for nothing, the boat was big enough and the sea was calm. In truth the ride to Larnaca was spectacular – I sat at the front, eyes glued to land, enjoying the vibes.

Once we reached Larnaca the plan was a gentle stroll and a relaxed lunch, the skipper casually told us to be back by 1:30pm “because the waves are getting bigger.” But I didn’t hear that part. Luckily, I did notice the wobble in my stomach. So I bought proper anti-motion sickness meds, ate a cautious lunch, and congratulated myself for being responsible.

And thank goodness I did.

The moment we left the safety of the harbour, Poseidon himself seemed to rise up from the waves and say, “So, you think you can play with the big boys now?” The waves were massive. I lasted at the front of the boat until I was about two swells away from being catapulted into the sea, then retreated inside. For the next two hours, the skipper had his hands full and sometimes cut the engine so we’d go over the waves instead of through them (or at least I think that was the plan — I was too busy bargaining with every deity I could name). I don’t think we were in any real danger as the skipper did not appear stressed at all, he did however mention that “all skippers are psychopaths” and laughed. Comforting.

I stared at the shore like my life depended on it – landmark to landmark, lighthouse to tower to rock formation – my entire world shrank to a single dot on the horizon. I couldn’t look at the other people. I couldn’t speak. I didn’t dare blink. I just focused on the land. It was so choppy that even though it took a mere hour to get to Larnaca, our skipper predicted it could take 2 to 2,5 hours to get back to Limassol.

At one point my husband, ever the jokester, kept making jokes about the boat capsizing and us swimming to shore. What he didn’t know was that three people on board couldn’t swim… I tried to telepathically communicate “Not. The. Time.” with my eyes, but alas, the message did not land (excuse the pun).

Eventually – miraculously – we made it back to Limassol. We finally relaxed and cracked some jokes now that it was over, we made promises of future get-togethers, but immediately agreed they would be land-only.

While on the boat, I swore to myself I’d never set foot on a boat again. Absolutely never. But… now that a few weeks have passed, I can’t help thinking: I didn’t get sick, we weren’t in any real danger and honestly? It was kind of fun. Who knows, maybe there’s another boat trip in my future after all.