Vomit Comet

A small boat designed to be used on rivers serves as the ferry between La Ceiba on the mainland of Honduras to the island of Utila. Utila sits 18 miles off the coast, and the ferry ride should take 45 minutes to an hour. Should. Our trip was not quite so short and far from pleasant.

It was overcast and a bit windy when we departed in the morning, but we had no idea the journey in store for us. Not too long after we left the dock, the boat began to be tossed around rather forcefully by the waves. I have been on many boats and never before have I been seasick, but only 10 to 20 minutes into the trip I started to feel nauseous.

I closed my eyes, put my head between my legs, and practically remained in that position for the duration of the trip. It’s a good thing too, because I wasn’t the only one feeling seasick. One of the ferry workers sole job was to hand out plastic bags to the soon-to-be pukers, and he was a very busy man. People began to vomit on all sides of me, and it took all of my concentration to prevent myself from doing the same. I knew if I saw vomit there was no holding it back.

When I first became nauseous, Kelly, Mosiah, and Dave all still felt fine, but not long after Kelly was in the same state as me. However, it wasn’t Kelly or I out of our group who ended up losing his or her breakfast. That proud distinction goes to Mosiah.

All the while Kelly and I were hunched over, Mosiah and Dave were chatting away completely unaffected. But when the soaked seasick hippies, who at the beginning of the trip thought it would be fun to ride outside the covered cabin, came inside, they zipped off the area to keep out the waves and rain. Enclosing the cabin had the unfortunate effect of blocking the breeze that had been wafting the odor of vomit out of the back of the boat.

Sitting in stagnant vomit scented air, Mosiah succumbed. He felt the urge coming, so he already had a barf bag in hand. But unfortunately it was a defective bag, and when he vomited it broke through the bottom splashing half digested chocolate Dunkin’ Donuts and coffee on his feet and those of the people sitting next to him. (And we were so excited about finding a Dunkin’ Donuts, because there aren’t any in Guatemala.) Fortunately I was spared the sight of all of this as Kelly was yelling, “Don’t look up! Whatever you do don’t look up!”

By the time we reached Utila an hour and a half after departing, nearly half the passengers on the ferry had vomited. The caretakers of our beach house met us at the dock and informed us that the ferry has the well-earned nickname of the “vomit comet.” Appropriate. Very appropriate indeed.