This post isn't really related to music, we will return you to your disjointed, ill-timed, music news in a bit. This post is about a journey of self discovery I had over the weekend on a seafaring vessel in the Delaware Bay.

As a pasty white avid indoorsman, I found the idea of leaving perfectly safe land and heading to the middle of a bay with artificially created reefs and no trees for sun protection, scary in the least. Add in the fact that I am Northern European and my skin burns like I just touched the Ark of the Covenant from Raiders of the Lost Ark, and we have a cesspool of disaster. But I am not one to complain and this was a bachelor party where the bachelor wanted to fish on a boat with friends and family.

We stayed in a motel that looked like one out of the 80's movie Scarface, you know where he cuts that guy up with a chainsaw? Yea that room and this room had been kicked in due to a police raid or some jealous lover. The room had the stench of drugs, bad decisions, and rape. There was hooker paste on the walls and probably the comforters, which aggravated my allergies to the point I couldn't sleep but an hour.

At the glorious time of 5am, I "awoke" to take a shower in a basin where the drain was slower than the time the tape got stuck for Milli Vanilli. I suspect the drain was slow from all the semen washed down it adhering to the metal pipes. The fishing excursion began prompted at 6 or 7 am and lasted until 12 or 1pm. I can't remember the exact times.

It was fun for the first two hours where the novelty of being on a boat and heading out to places I've never been was fun. But that quickly wore off and I was left with the up and down rolling motion of the boat. Rex and Vic Wettner both threw up beer and their dinner in the Delaware Bay at about the three hour mark. I was holding it together, despite the rocking of the boat and the churning of my stomach. The salty dog of a boat Captain put on some Kansas, which was a welcomed distraction from my own thoughts which were "I am not feeling great. This sun is burning my vampire like skin. I am going to throw up...no I'm cool man."

I made it through Kansas' Greatest Hits and the Captain moved onto Lynryd Skynyrd's Greatest Hits. I wondered who bought Greatest Hits collections and the answer is boat captains. I was the Ultimate Warrior with my own thoughts, wrestling and fighting the urge to barf. It was like a steel cage match of wills, until I made one crucial mistake that allowed Hogan to put the leg drop on my digestive track...I went inside the cabin. 

The cabin seemed to calm down Rex and Vic Wettner, so I felt that it would do the same for me. Perhaps the change of scenery and camaraderie with other lepers would make me feel better. And just like cavorting with lepers, I caught what they had. The fact nothing was really moving at the same roll and yaw I was was disorienting at best. The beds were stationary, yet I was rocking back and forth like Scott Stapp after a bottle of Crown Royal. I rushed out of the cabin like the Stones rush out of a concert, hoping to stave off blowing chunks, but it was over. I had lost the battle and my breakfast of Wawa became fish chum. All this to Skynyrd's That Smell.

Thanks to Tard Wettner, there is a picture of me projectile vomiting and if you really want to see it, click the NSFW link below. It was a pretty epic shot and kudos to him for grabbing it. I did feel better after losing it, but I realized fishing is best left for those trying to escape their wives/lives or people who enjoy eating what they catch. That's not me and I'll gladly pay the 25.00 bucks for fish someone else caught.