A Universal Experience: Part 4- Amy (Appendix B)

For my entire married life, my husband has been keen on offering me advice that I staunchly REFUSE to take initially but later on learn, upon reflection, that he was, in fact, a genius. Obviously, I will be taking great pains to ensure that he never reads this particular post.

For years, I chaperoned what I lovingly refer to as a nightmare on the high seas during the annual Whale Watch. When someone yelled, "Thar she blows," though, they weren't referring to a whale. Year after year, I would get knee-shakingly sick and become the unwillingly star of some 6th grader's home video. I methodically tried every remedy known to humankind. Eyes on the horizon, variations of ginger products, magnets, bracelets, patches, medicine that could drop an elephant but not prevent an esophageal eruption. Naturally, this was an event I eagerly looked forward to, year after year.

To my dismay, I found that I also began to show similar symptoms on amusement park rides. There would be no keeping me off the Harry Potter Castle Ride during my first visit to Universal but the consequential nausea made riding a sidewalk bench the only attraction that I could stomach for the rest of the day. "I can help you," my husband said as I expressed worry about my up-coming trip to Universal with friends. "Antiemetics don't work for me," I snapped, "I just end up slightly sleepy while I throw up."

A day or so before departure, I was swinging during recess (Don't judge me) when my very being quaked with queasiness.  "What am I going to do," I wailed, "I'll probably get sick on the shuttle taking me to Universal!" "Now will you let me help you," sighed Brad. According to him (and yes, I rolled my eyes and thought. What does he know?), a person should start the antiemetic regiment the night before and take it consistently throughout the day. Of course I doubted him. But I was desperate.

Obstacle number one was actually being able to successfully swallow the practically microscopic pill. Mind you...I have a life history of successful pill-swallowing under my belt. I even swallowed those horse pills prescribed to pregnant women to just make their lives THAT much more miserable. Why you would offer a pregnant woman an anti-pooping pill is beyond me. Sorry fellas:  TMI. Anyhoo, I valiantly tried getting that chalky little sucker down but it jammed mid-throat and yes...DISSOLVED. I hacked for an hour like a windblown Persian pussycat. "You are such a child," complained Savannah, beating against my back.

The next day, I stood nervously in line for The Castle Ride. I was either going to get my life back or ruin the lives of my friends for the next three days. "Oh, you wouldn't have ruined my life," Katie said consolingly, "I'd have ridden without you without a second thought." Did I mention that Katie requires empathy training? Moments later I was racing with Ron and Harry on my broomstick, dodging the Whomping Willow, almost getting fried to a crisp by a dragon before performing a Woolongong Shimmy maneuver and punting a Quaffle through a scoring hoop. I stumbled off the ride to face my daughter, whose face was etched with concern. Breathless but grinning, I yelled, "Let's do it again!" We high-fived and I proceeded to shut down the park with my riding prowess. The only time during the trip that I even came close to throwing up was when it was time to swallow that darn pill accompanied by the obligatory hour of hacking. But I blame Brad for that.