I was 10
I didn't like travelling on boats, and we were in the posh expensive lounge area for some reason. The sick bags were all at the entrance to the lounge, and I was feeling very queasy. Finally I could stand the sickness no longer so I slowly made my way towards the sick bags knowing that they were my only hope at relief. Three rolls of the boat later I'm holding half a stomach's worth of vomit in my mouth hoping to hell that I can still make it as it was only just around the corner.

Make it round the corner and wave manically at the service woman standing next to them (they were still *across* from the entrance and it was another 10 steps at least), pointing and emphasising as much as I could that I was very, very ill. She didn't get it. 3 seconds later she gets it, as the entire floor to the entrance is covered in a nice layer of sick. "Oh my goodness. I guess you won't be needing a bag now then". Oh boy was she wrong. I edged around the spreading pool of vomit, grabbed the bag and vowed to spend the rest of the journey in the loo's too ashamed to show my face. Sadly it stank in there and only made me feel more ill, but in a different "dear god, I was travel sick, now my body's rebelling against the smell, sick" way. When we finally left the boat there was just a strange whiff and a slightly discoloured sheen to the floor.

Now I just make sure I sleep on boat journey's, and never, ever move from my seat.

Oh, and then there was the journey where the boat was rocking so badly we could see the just sky out of one window and just sea out the other. Hearing all the plates in the kitchen smashing, and the waitresses all screaming "oh god, will it never end" didn't help.
(manifold, Sat 9 Sep 2006, 20:44, Reply)