Mark’s Vagabonding Blog

I often find occasion to utter the sentence, “This was covered in a Seinfeld episode.” And I’m sure many other fans of the show have made similar statements. Well, the episode I have in mind today is the one where the gang was headed to a party. George and Kramer were in charge of picking up the wine, while Jerry and Elaine grabbed a cake (chocolate babka) to bring to the party. Of course, the seemingly easy tasks turned out to be miserable ordeals for all of them.

Do you remember this episode? I’m sure you’ve seen it a thousand times in syndication at 7:30pm on the WB. In the liquor store George’s grossly oversized Gor-Tex coat knocked over a display of bottles, and he ended up having to pay for it with the coat. Also, their car was blocked in by Saddam Hussein, but the owner of the liquor store wouldn’t let them wait in the store, so they were forced to freeze outside until Saddam came back to move the car.

Okay, now your brain is working like this:

Hmm, Mark’s in Southeast Asia where it’s hotter than a Vinnie’s Pizza oven, so there’s no reason for him to be wearing an oversized Gor-Tex coat. And (for those who know me) he doesn’t drink so he probably wouldn’t be in a liquor store, unless he was buying something to bring to a party, which is unlikely. And Saddam is on the witness stand at his trial in Iraq so he can’t be blocking in Mark’s car, which he probably doesn’t even have. So it’s gotta be something else within this episode that has happened to him. Hmm, what happened to the other two in that episode . . . let me think now . . . Oh, I don’t remember, c’mon Mark just tell me what happened! No wait wait wait, I think I remember. They were in the bakery, and Rachel and Pheobe were playing a joke on Chandler and . . . ooops wrong show. Oh Mark just tell me.

At the bakery, Jerry and Elaine had to wait forever to be served. Then the person before them got the last chocolate babka (That person was going to the same party), so they had to settle for an inferiorly flavored babka. When they got the babka, they found a hair in it.

Okay, there are probably bakeries over there, but are there babkas? I don’t even know what a babka is. And is there even chocolate in Southeast Asia? My God, there might not even be chocolate over there! How can he stay over there this long with no chocolate!? If there’s no chocolate over there I’m never going, not even for a week, or a day even . . . Hmm, do I have any of that Ben & Jerry’s left? No I think I finished it last night. I’ll read this later, I’m going to get some Chunky Monkey.

So then they had to wait even longer for the next babka, and when the lady finally gave it to them, she coughed all over it. Also, while sitting down waiting their turn, some guy came in with a cane and smashed it on Elaine’s foot, possibly breaking her toe.

Oh, I love Chunky Monkey. I’ll eat this and watch some TV, then go to bed. Oooo and I thnk this is American Idol night. Chunky Monkey and American Idol; it doesn’t get any better than this. What I wouldn’t do to be able to eat this Chunky Monkey off of that Simon’s hot body. Still fifteen minutes to go, let me see what’s on now. News, news, basketball, news, basketball, Entertainment Tonight. Oh, Entertainment Tonight, that reminds me of the Seinfeld episode where every time Kramer watched Entertainment Tonight he had a seiz . . . Seinfeld, wasn’t there something I was just reading . . . Oh yeah, Mark’s blog. I still have time before Simon comes on. Let’s see, where was I? Gor-Tex, Saddam Hussein, babka, oh here we are.

And Jerry decided to eat a black and white cookie while they waited. He also mentioned to Elaine that he was working on a 17 year streak of not vomiting. Or was it 14 years, I don’t rememeber? Anyway it was either 14 or 17 years.

I know what happened! Mark was in a store (it doesn’t have to be a liquor store) that had a display of bottles. He was wearing his backpacks (The Gor-Tex coat), and the backpacks knocked over the display of bottles. After that he was in a Taxi, stuck in Bangkok traffic casued by the demontrations against Thai Prime Minister Thaksin (scorned leader of a country), and the driver had the AC cranked up, freezing him. Then he and June went to the bakery to get a vanilla babka, and someone smashed June’s toe, and Mark threw up! Wow, that is amazingly similar, and it’s perfectly viable.

Well if you are thinking that all of the things in the episode happened you are crazy, that’s just too coincidental. But something from this episode did mirror my life. I’m sure you can probably guess what it is.

I too had been working on a very long non-vomiting streak. I’m not sure exactly how long because I can’t remember the last time I puked, but I know it was a very long time ago. I knew coming into this trip that my streak would be in jeopardy. And at 3:45am, Tuesday morning, March 14 (Thai time), in a bat shit infested Chiang Mai guesthouse room, my streak, Like Jerry’s, came to a hellish end.

When I first arrived in Chiang Mai I ate at the guesthouse restaurant across from mine (not the bat shit infested one), because my guesthouse had no restaurant. While there, someone named Mike hopped on a bicycle to go for a ride. The owner of the guesthouse said to him, “Mike, you’re feeling better?” Mike got sick, he thinks, from eating strawberries he got from one of the trekking tours.

“Everyone who comes to Chaing Mai gets sick,” the guesthouse owner said, with a curious hint of pride in her voice.

Having not thrown up for time immemorial, until I got to Chiang Mai, I have to believe that lady knows what she speaketh. Yes, I did get sick earlier in my trip, but that didn’t involve any spewing of noodles and vegetables from my mouth . . .

Ewww, I wish he knocked over a display of bottles or found a hair in his babka, or even had both toes smashed, because all this talk of spewing vegetables is gonna make me spew. Especially after eating that entire pint of Chunky Monkey. That’s it, I’m not reading any more, he makes me sick.

Two consecutive 10-hour slowboat rides in two days–without the aide of Dramamine–up the mighty Mekong River from Luang Prabang, Laos, to the Thai border, with nary a queaz, has all but confirmed the eradication of my embarrassing, lifelong affliction with motion sickness. The main indicator of this eradication, however, was not that I could handle the rides themselves, but that I was able to read (A complex, fascinating, and very funny book, written by Salman Rushdie, called Midnight’s Children), while the vessle continually rocked side to side as it bisected the legendary river. Previously, I would not have been able to read beyond, “It was a dark and stormy n . . . Uhhhg, gotta look up,” while riding in any vehicle (Unless I was the driver. Which is a strange phenomenon, like not being able to tickle yourself. I once read an entire Stephen King novel while driving from Montgomery, Alabama to Twin Falls, Idaho, and not once did I have to look up from nausea. Nor did I find the self-tickling very amusing.).

Following the initial near overdose, which was the Speedboat to Sihanoukville (aided by Dramamine), the healing elixir, I believe, came in smaller doses: a few short boat rides; numerous road trips over bumpy terrain and winding roads; a tube ride down the river in Vang Vieng, Laos. Either that or the wax in my ears has accumulated to a perfect balance, offsetting what triggers the nausea. (Doesn’t motion sickness have something to do with your ears?)

There is one challenge that I will have to face before the eradication can be deemed certifiably complete. And that is a protracted stay on a small boat in the middle of a raging ocean . . . or an elephant ride. I’m not kidding. When I was in Thailand last year, I took an elephant ride. You had a choice between a 10 minute ride or a half hour ride. If I’d have chosen the half hour ride, I would have puked 11 minutes into it.

But believing, now, that my affliction has been conquered, a whole new world has been opened up to me! A world I have avoided, like squat toilets, all of my life, but achingly craved to join. A world of boats, canoes, kayaks, inner tubes, roller coasters and other vomit inducing rides, snorkling (I got incredibly nauseous the only time I have ever snorkled), scuba diving, and archery. No more shall I decline offers of nautical adventure with the embarrassing reply, “No thanks, I can’t, I get seasick.”

I also believe the curse of seasickness has been the obstacle that has kept me from becoming a rich man. Here’s the logic: I’ve lived near the ocean all of my life (except for the 3 years I was away at college earning a BA in mathematics, which, ironically, hasn’t helped me to become rich either) and have always dreamed of owning a boat. I’ve never voiced this dream to anyone, but it’s always been there, like the dress I kept under my bed. While living in Sarasota, Florida, I frequently went to Bayfront Park, which is also the dock for the opulent boat owners of the city. I would jealously watch my wealthy neighbors as they prepared for a cruise, or I would just imagine that one of the most extravagant boats belonged to me. Before I left for my trip here, that boat I always admired most suddenly donned a for sale sign. It read “$850,000.”

My boat wouldn’t be a boat at all, but a yacht, with a full professional kitchen, 4 or 5 bedrooms, a living room, a den with a fireplace, a pool and jacuzzi, a tennis court (with a net to catch errant hits to protect the whales), and if there’s room, maybe even a foozball table. But what good is owning such a magnificent ship if I will never set sail? What’s the point of becoming rich if I will never buy a boat?

The disappearance of this hindrance, this seasickness, has suddenly thrust upon me the incentive I’ve been lacking all of my life! Incentive to live the dream! Incentive to become . . . a billionaire!

Donations greatly appreciated.

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