It was the best of times, it was the worst of times

To quote Charles Dickens in Tale of Two Cities, "It was the best of times, it was the worst of times."

Last weekend I eagerly boarded the high speed ferry in an attempt to avoid Chicago traffic as I traveled over to Michigan to visit Mike and Beth. The trip was great-I got to catch up with the Goers, enjoyed the nice weather, went on a bike ride around Spring Lake, checked out a decent restaurant (where I sampled my first ever fried pickle), shopped in Grand Haven, and listened to Mike preach and helped him teach Sunday School. Hence the "best of times". Unfortunately, the "worst of times" preceded the best of times on the ferry. Now, I'll preempt this by saying I do have a tendency to get motion sickness, but I have also rode the ferry in the past with no ill consequences. Anyway, within the first 10 minutes of being on the ferry, I was sick (as in vomit). Thinking nothing more could come up and out of me after the first time, I figured the ride could only get better. Was I ever mistaken! After 2 more incidents inside, I moved outside where I proceeded to get sick 3 more times, for a total of 6 times. I did feel a bit better outside, but I finally had to succumb to the cold and go back inside for the last half hour. Thankfully the lake had settled a bit by then and I made it the rest of the way without further incidents. I should also mention that I was not the only one. There were at least 20 others who sat outside with me and we were a sight to see, something like a vomit brigade. The poor stewards just kept passing out more vomit bags as we kept filling them. It wasn't until I recounted this story to a friend and fellow ferry rider that she informed me that the autumn is the worst time to travel on the ferry due to the rough lake-if only I had known in advance.