Location: Underway to the Galapagos
The last 24 hours have been a positively biblical test of our fortitude as a crew. The plagues we have been struck with are as follows:
Acid rains; the diarrhoea of a flock of birds who must have eaten some rotten fish and found Argo the only safe land in sight to take refuge. Many were struck, but two stand out as particularly abhorrent cases. I’m sure these survivors could recount their tales better than I, but under the admission of not doing them nearly the justice they deserve, the first was Skyler. Who, under the onslaught, made the mistake of looking skyward. Obviously, he was hit in the face by a massive gob. Unbent, he looked down, then back up for some completely unfathomable reason, when he was immediately struck again by a second, far larger missile. The next case, that of Sydney, was particularly tragic. It was a good day for Sydney. She was about to get her helmsona, having helmed for roughly 3 and a half hours, with half an hour left till a well-deserved sleep, when she felt something wet. “WHAT WAS THAT?”, she shrieked, in utter terror and confusion. No, it was not a rogue wave, crashing over the stern. Nor a loose hose, spraying her direction. It was bird poop. Pointed with the power and accuracy of a fire hose right into the little area between the back of her shirt and her neck. Drenched, she soldiered on, completing her helmsona, and giving it a name which I don’t remember but was probably some pun on a rapper’s name.
Floods: a storm of torrential proportions. As we advanced deep into the Pacific, knowing on all sides lay nothing but sea for hundreds of miles, we spotted something horrifying in the distance. A cloud. Not just any cloud, a cumulo-alto-strato-nimbus cloud. (or something, I haven’t really been paying attention in Nick’s meteorology class). Either way, it was a big, scary storm cloud. My watch team, watch team 2, was on watch. We donned our foulies and leapt to our posts. As the storm approached, we stared it down with fierce, brave eyes. Fear was not in our vocabulary. At least not until the first sign of thunder, when we all leapt into each other’s arms and cowered away from the scary lightning. We nobly elected Cason to stand up and be our lightning rod. After the thunder came a torrential downpour, I was more wet than I’ve been since swimming. I felt like a fish. Luckily, we only had 30 minutes left of the watch, though, and watch team 3 had to deal with the rest of the stormwop wop. I slept like a baby.
Floods 2: a storm below decks. Since last night, I have been painted as a monster by the crew, responsible for some horrific events that occurred. Yes, in many ways, they are correct, but every story has two sides, and I would like to take this opportunity to tell mine. To set the scene, Sydney had just cooked a banging mac and cheese with buffalo chicken, and oh boy did I partake in the carnage that followed. We were like vultures; nothing remained. After the cleanup, I meandered down to the head to do my business, gleefully ignorant of what was about to ensue. The rest is a blur. All I can remember is the screams. I was ground zero for the single biggest head disaster in Argo’s history. It was bad. Martin had to massage the pipes. I remember him coming out, triumphant, as Charlie, toilet guy, arrived on the scene, shirt-sleeves rolled up and ready for action. All was declared clear. Little did we know little did we know.
The next day, like some sort of poison released in the air, a scent demonic in nature wafted down the companionway. Students ran in terror to escape. Four brave souls emerged, Jonas, Avery, Martn, and Skyler, to stand up and fight. (Also, I think they thought they would miss class). They marched headlong into the belly of the beast, armed with pipe wrenches, Drain-o, and Charlie. An hour passed, then two. After what seemed like an eternity, Jonas crawled through the watertight door, bowed and stained brown, but victorious. The monster had been slain. Some may call me a villain, but frankly, I think we should all agree that this is really Sydney’s fault for making mac and cheese.
Yes, the last two days have been rough. But hey, it’s all uphill from here, right?
P.S. Here are some messages from the crew:
Gavi struggles to differentiate between a giraffe and a zebra, and I thought you all should know. – Ruby
(Just to comment on this, no, I don’t – Gavi)
Today is the 42nd day of passage, which is relevant because of some book or something. – Gavi on behalf of SkylAr
P.P.S. As I was writing this I heard 5 horns, expecting us to be on a collision course with another vessel I jumped on deck only to see something far more terrifying. Birds, dozens of birds flocking and landing on our rigging. More are coming. Have you seen The Birds? I have. I think I spoke too soon when I said it’s all uphill from here…