�Oh,� I said, �happy birthday.� He glared at me. �Not this weekend,� he said, as the elevator doors closed.

We left our things in the room and went to dinner at a place the desk clerk recommended as local. It was. And I liked it. And the waitress turned out to be from Birmingham, which is right down the road from Bolton, where Anna UK is from, and she was lovely. She'd been a beach bunny in Key West in the 60s, she said, and then she just sort of floated north to Virginia Beach eventually, and met a guy, and stayed, and then brought her whole family -- her sister and mother and uncle -- over too. I could imagine her there, in Florida, from the way she smiled now � she would have been all fun, but likely to turn up missing in the morning.

After that we watched Set It Off on t.v. and drank champagne that Anna bought. Because we were on vacation. But also too tired to do anything else.

Shopping was a bust. We needed a better idea. An idea with water. And whales�.whale-watching! Because that's a good thing to do when the water's too cold to swim, and it only cost $15, and whales like the rain just fine. So, a good idea! Right. It might be good to cue ominous music here.

We called the whale-watching place and headed down to get tickets. The signs should have warned us. Like when the woman wouldn�t even open the window to tell us whether there were places on the boat or not. Or when they didn�t have any bucket hats. But we pressed on � even when we almost missed the boat, and I had to stop it by sheer dint of Obnoxious Ladiness, which I have acquired in no mean supply, apparently, over the past few years. I mean, they actually backed the boat up for us. And we got on. The ominous music should be getting louder.

We headed out to sea, really fast, with big old waves tossing the boat from side to side as it sped through the water, which was, at that time, cool. We were speeding! Through water! To whales! �Eee!,� we cried. �Whales!�

We got out to our cruising position, and, though by this time I was ominously drenched, I didn't feel too cold, I thought, and immediately, we saw whales! Or, at least, whale backs, which is certainly as close as I've ever been to seeing a whale before. Humpbacks, which these were, don't do that jumping-up thing, but you can see them flip their tails and spout water and kind of put their backs up above the water. Which, like I said, is cool, and something I am not at all sorry I saw.

After about eight whale backs, though, I started to notice how very, very cold it was. And how even more cold it was when you were being repeatedly covered in sea water by the violent lurching of the boat. It was really, I thought, very unpleasantly cold. But no matter. Whales! And anyway, we�d head back in after a little while and I go get dry and maybe jump in the hot tub at the hotel.

After about eight more whale backs, though, I started to notice how, really, sixteen whale backs is probably enough whale backs, especially when you have gone beyond numb in your fingers and toes, and have moved into excruciating pain of death frostbite territory, which is constantly being renewed by the now soaking waves washing over the deck with violent frequency.

After about two more whale backs, I gave up and went into the small cabin on the middle of the boat. It smelled horribly of gasoline, and I knew it was lame to miss seeing more whales, but at least the excruciating pain of coldness subsided just slightly. (Nota Bene: I have grown increasingly unable to tolerate cold over the past two years. It now literally makes me want to die if I am too cold. I hate very little more. I was way, way, way too cold on the outside of the boat. I was also too cold on the inside of the boat, but hovered just on the outside of death-wish.)

By this time, I was feeling just a little miserable. I was freezing, and it smelled, and the boat did seem to be lurching a whole awful lot. I put my head down for a bit to try and lessen the misery. When I looked up, there seemed to be quite a few more people in the cabin. Also, quite a few of them were looking very green. The boat did seem to be lurching an awful lot, with waves coming up and slapping the sides of the cabin every couple of seconds.

I put my head down for a little more. And looked up a little more, to find even more people in the cabin, at least two of whom, I began to notice, were being sick into the trashcans at any given time. Outside, people were being sick over the railing, too. And on the deck. And the people who weren�t seasick were now getting sick from watching the other people be sick. In fact, of the fifty-six people on the boat, I believe that Anna, Anna and I were the only people who did not throw up. Anna UT has been a river guide, so that�s why she wasn�t, and Anna UK and I had � oh, so, so, luckily -- taken some Dramamine because I remembered feeling seasick on the ferry to Ireland. Oh, thank god for Dramamine.

It was awful. Quite literally, we continued that way for an hour and a half, just circling the same spot, in wildly choppy water, with everyone on the boat repeatedly vomiting, and no one at all looking at the whales, which, anyway, were only whale backs. At one point, even though I wasn�t sick, I was ready to cry from the sheer horribleness of it. Trapped! Five feet out to sea! Freezing! Soaked! Surrounded by vomit and gasoline fumes! With only whale backs for company! It was like some kind of terrible inhumane punishment.

�Why, oh why, don�t they turn the boat around?� the passengers moaned, in between vomiting. �We�ve seen enough whales!� But the cruel whale-watching-boat people didn�t listen. Actually, I think if it had gone on much longer, there might have been a mutiny. Although, it is hard to mutiny when you�re throwing up every couple of minutes.

Finally, finally, they took us back in, and we all scurried to our cars very fast. In case they threatened to take us back on the boat. Annas and I went back to the hotel and sat for a very, very long time in the hot tub, although I couldn�t get in right away because I had chilblains, apparently. I�d never known what that weird white painful numb thing that happens to your fingers and toes is, but apparently it�s chilblains. And it keeps you from going in the hot tub right away even if you want to.

That evening, finally recovered, we went out to dinner (seafood buffet!) and then came home and watched Mrs. Doubtfire and drank beer. Because we were on vacation. And traumatized.

And then we headed back out, stopping in Williamsburg for some actual shopping (they have outlets), wherein Anna UK tried to persuade me to buy a three-quarter-length pink faux-fur pimp coat, because it was only thirty dollars, but I resisted, because I know I am not pimp enough for that coat.

And then we came home, and the neverending stress was waiting for me here, but at least it isn't neverending stress accompanied by freezing cold and hordes of vomiting people. And now it�s time for me to go to bed.

And I'm still really, really glad I'm not still on that boat.