i'm going to have a heart attack...

i should not be writing this. i ought to be in bed.

i can remember feeling this nauseated twice in life.

the first time was just out of high school. we had gone to a bar downtown. i never really had a drink before that gin and tonic. i didn't know about pacing when i downed it in about 10 minutes. suffice to say, the floor spun that night. real good. i remember going home in bob's car. as we headed up anderson road towards elbow drive, i turned to him and told him to stop the car in a calm and controlled voice. i opened the passenger side door and spewed all over the grass on the median. felt like i eviscerated myself. another proud moment in my short life then.

the second time was on a boat from zanzibar, an island off the coast of tanzania, to dar es salaam. it was a dark and stormy morning. i knew it was going to be rough seas and took a handful of motion sickness pills before disembarking zanzibar. it wasn't enough. the waves were so huge. the boat would climb each wave. when it reached the crest, it would drop off into oblivion on the leeward side. before crashing into the oncoming trough, you would experience a second or two of weightlessness. i puked. then i dry heaved after i puked. the crew suffered along with us. they passed out barf bags; the kind of bags that have plastic handles built into them. the crew hooked the same handles around their ears (thus, forming a seal around their faces) so they could tend to their duties in a hands free manner. i dry heaved till the boat reached the port when the damn rocking stopped.

tonight was the worst i felt in years. i was camera man for a shoot involving a rally car just west of airdrie. it was fun for the first little while. first came the exterior shots. easy. then we needed interior shots. stuff like pictures of the driver, him steering, and the oncoming gravel road. before taking off, eric, the driver, turned to me and asked me whether i was susceptible to motion sickness. showing my bravado, i said i should be ok. i was ok for the first minute. it was 2 km of undulating, snake-like gravel road. by the end of the first run, i felt a power wave of nausea come over me. i didn't say anything. we turned the car around. half way back, fighting the need to heave, i broke into an incredible sweat. just like that guy on the "making the cut" commercial, i thought i was going to have a heart attack. on the spot, i was going to keel over if the car wasn't stopped. my vision went blurry and the shot went astray. i didn't care anymore about the shoot.

i did make it back to the start. i rolled out of the car. i heard everyone laugh. i'm not very good at hiding pain or in this case extreme nausea.

i felt like puking the onion rings i just had at the airdrie a&w but before i knew it i was shooting out of dave's trunk for a heads on view of the rally car. that was a stupid move on my part. 30 seconds felt like 12 hours. i screamed at dave to stop the vehicle. the final wave of nausea was so powerful. it hit me so hard. i couldn't explain it. gina took over the camera work while i sat paralysed in the back seat. i downed a gravol. i knew it wouldn't work. you have to take that crap prior to the nausea. i would have had to have taken enough gravol to put down a 10 tonne matriarchal african elephant. there was no relief other than to stop all motion, if that.

i passed out in the front seat for the trip to dave's house.

i still feel queasy.

i shouldn't be writing this.

i apologise to all my readers and fans. i was hoping to be there you for in a time of need. but i was weak.

good night.