Ocean: 3, Kelly: 0

My astrological sign is Cancer.

I consider myself a typical Cancerian--empathetic, moody, emotional, thoughtful, perhaps a bit overprotective and defensive.

There is one thing about my sign, though, that Australia has shown me I'm not compatible with. Cancer is a Cardinal Water sign. Yes, I love bath tubs, swimming pools, hot tubs, the occasional wave pool...basically anything where I can see the bottom. Obviously, oceans don't fit into this.

You've heard the story before--I frantically kicked a sea turtle and burned off the top few layers of skin while on the Great Barrier Reef, which therefore ruined my 3-day stint on the Whitsunday Islands in the Coral Sea. For some reason, I thought a whale-watching tour on the Pacific Ocean would redeem my sea-going self.

Did I mention that Cancerians are completely illogical?

I joined Jenny, her mom Penny and her mom's friend, Trish for a $59 whale-watching tour last weekend. Penny lent me one of her prescription-strength sea sickness patches, so I thought I was good to go.

Things couldn't have gone better when we first took off from Darling Harbour. Sure, I was the only moron who wasn't wearing the appropriate attire (I guess I haven't gotten used to the fact that it's winter in June, so I was wearing a long-sleeve top with a light cardigan, whereas everyone else was in gloves and full-on winter gear), but it was sunny and the views of the Harbour Bridge and Opera House were postcard quality.

I was feeling good. But once we left Sydney's harbour area and entered the open ocean, it was almost like the waters weren't even the same. It's like leaving a warm department store and walking out onto a blizzard-blown street during Christmastime. It was amazing how quickly things took a turn for the worse.

Our boat wasn't tiny, but it was by no means huge. The waves were bullying us around like crazy. Screw the patch, I knew it was over. Ironically, the captain pointed out that the day's waves were actually much calmer than the day before.

Anyway, it was about a half hour before someone spotted a whale. By this point, I was so far gone that I was hard pressed to find anything--and I mean anything--that I wanted more than to get back off that God-forsaken boat. While everybody jumped off their seats and rushed to the front of the boat, I sat stoicly in my seat on the far left side of the upper deck. I literally felt anchored to that seat. I honestly don't think a team of whales doing a tap dance routine could have roused me from my position.

Another while later, more whales were spotted near the back of the boat. Again, everyone moved excitedly to spot the next group.

Not long after, Jenny cried out to me to look over the edge of the boat near where I was sitting. Right as I did, a huge humpback whale ascended from the water and crashed back in. Simulatenously, everyone on the boat crowded around me.

And as life would have it, my stomach decided that this was the opportune time to show its weakness. I thought I could simply puke over the rail and into the ocean, but I forgot that people were actually on the lower deck and hanging their expensive cameras off the edge. I doubt they'd find it too amusing to be puked on. Though, let's be honest, being puked on always makes for a great story.

Thankfully, Penny was right next to me. I told her I was about to lose it. Like the great mother she is, she ran to the front of the boat, grabbed a barf bag. Within 3 seconds of giving it to me, as I was cornered by literally 20 eco-lovers and in the presence of one of nature's most glorious creatures, I vomited. And I mean I really let it all out.

To my relief, the whale stole the show. No one really paid any attention to the weird American puking in their midst. I guess I'm happy I wasn't blocking the view.

I felt a little better, but I was freezing and dizzy. Jenny sat next to me and somehow found a warm coat to wrap me in. I realized then that Jenny exuded true friendship that day. It was actually her birthday and she was helping me recover, when it really should've been the other way around. For the hour-long trip back into Sydney, I took a nap on her shoulder.

So that was it. I'm done with this ocean crap. I like to think this was a bit of karma for kicking the sea turtle on the Great Barrier Reef. Whether that's true, I know now I'm meant solely for air and land travel.

Dear ocean,

You win. Maybe I'm really a Gemini.

Much respect,

Kelly

Pictures:

Though $59 bought me a great story, I couldn't get any of the photos I was hoping because I was too sick to operate a camera. So behold, the lone three photos from the day.

Top: The open ocean. Looks so calm and peaceful. Looks can be deceiving.

Middle: Again, I was too sick to operate a camera. You can detect a splash in the middle, though. That was water coming out of a whale's blowhole.

Bottom: A clean replica of the sick bag that saved me from utter humiliation. Thought you'd be dying to see it.