Oh my lord, kids. I've just dragged myself out of bed for the first time since Wednesday night, when we left San Francisco and my stomach began to feel just a leetle bit unsteady. I haven't been seasick before, so this was a little weird. And then I found myself doing little but vomiting, sleeping, drinking water forced upon me by Meridith (thanks, Meridith!), and attempting to keep down dry toast and other such delicacies that my dear suitemates asked James to acquire for us. That didn't work at all until last night. Now I'm in that weird post-illness state where I feel both desperately weak and exhausted with the vestiges of being sick, and hungrier than I have the strength to satiate. It's very annoying.
James was pretty accustomed to this, as I was by no stretch of the imagination the first person to get sick on the ship. That's pretty common on cruises, I hear—my mother got pretty ill when we were on a cruise eight years ago—but this has been pretty intense, such that we've had CDC people board us at the last few ports of call. More people are falling ill than is normal even for a cruise ship, apparently, and while it's not a *horrific* experience and doesn't last *tremendously* long, it certainly puts a damper on the proceedings. I didn't become aware of the virus's existence until Tuesday night.
Okay, I confess: I know exactly how I contracted this virus, and I sincerely apologize to my travelling companions, because I believe I'm the one who brought it into our enclave. I've mentioned Julie a couple of times, I think. Well, the night before we hit L.A. she and I finally had, um, shall we say a recognition of our mutual attraction. A pretty lovely one. :>) We had another drink together the night we left L.A., and by the next evening she was down with the virus. So unfortunately, I figured it was only a matter of time. And I think I've given it to Meridith, who's languishing in bed this morning. Amber and Clara either have very hardy immune systems or it's only a matter of time; I hope the others—especially Tali and Bea!—can stay out of illness's way.
Rather than go into the vivid and somewhat less than pleasant details of my last several bedridden days, I'm going to talk about San Francisco. I seem to have family in almost every port, at least in the continental United States; my uncle Don met me at the ship and we went out for coffee before he had to get to work. I was sad that I couldn't spend the whole day with him and see the family and meet his new dogs (both Great Danes), but that'll be another trip. Then Jess, Connor, Meridith, Clara and I met up with our friend Caitlin, who moved to SF a few months ago. She was pleased to hear that we'll make our next stop in her home state, and recommended a few things for us to see. Though she's supremely alternative, in the best way, she didn't mind taking us through a few of the more traditional Bay Area attractions, like Ghiradelli Square (mmm, chocolate/ewwww, chocolate) and Golden Gate Park; we also swung by ACT, San Francisco's biggest regional theater, so that I could see my mom's friend Carey, who's the artistic director, and my friend Cassie, who's doing a stage management internship there. Meridith and I split off from the crew to hit a cute little Thai place that Cassie recommended. I think they hit the Mission district, but I'll let them tell you about it. And then I hit the ship, and the rest is history.
And once again, conflicts of luxury, but I'll tell you, when you feel too weak to get out of bed and don't want to be a burden on your friends is when you're really, really grateful to have a butler assigned to you. I feel a little gross about that, but there you are. James is pretty rockin'.
I can see nothing but ocean for miles, which is relaxing, and that relaxation will probably help me heal. I kind of feel like some chicken soup, or something of the kind. But first I'm going to fetch some dry toast to bring back to the suite for Meridith.