Disneyland, Leprosy, and Jack In the BoxBy: Max Huckanser
Deep Sea fishing off the coast of San Diego two years ago was one of
the worst experiences of my life. We were having fun. This was one of
the best trips that our family had ever taken. My grandparents and two
of my uncles and their families took that major first trip to southern
California together with my family. Los Angeles was the first stop on
our vacation. Two days of Disneyland is all the happiness that a sane
person should be able to handle. Other than Disneyland, there isnıt
much for a bunch of people from Utah and Montana to do in L.A., so as
soon as we were finished at the happiest place in the world, we drove
down the coast to San Diego.
After being in San Diego for a day, my dad thought it would be fun to
go deep sea fishing. At the time this seemed to be a very good idea.
What could be more fun than fishing? Once we got off that boat we
realized that lots of things are more fun than fishing. Some of these
activities include: major surgery, leprosy, and everyoneıs favorite,
We boarded the boat full of sunshine and optimism. Our wishful
thinking was quickly squashed. Not long after getting on the boat we
were checked for illegal drugs and beer. Surprisingly enough we had
neither and the boat left port. By now we were finally realizing that
this boat was covered with fat, cigar smoking men, and everyone of
them was a potty mouth.
"Maybe I should take your sisters down to the galley," my mom decided
after a fisherman made a derogatory comment having to do with another
manıs mother and barnyard animals.
"That might be a good idea for ye, ye take the wenches downstairs and
let the men capture ye food, aye!" My father had suddenly transformed
into Long John Dorko, the most feared idiot on the boat.
Fifteen fishless minutes after my sisters and mom went downstairs, my
brother started complaining about feeling sick, at least thatıs what I
thought he was complaining about. He threw up before he could finish
"Dad, I donıt fell too, blurp gag gurgle gurgle gurgle." For those of
you who donıt know, blurp gag gurgle gurgle gurgle is the official
throw up sound. My brother got pretty good distance with his
projectile too, at least he would have if he hadnıt missed the side of
the boat and hit the wall. I really canıt blame him; the boat was
seventy feet long in thirty foot swells. I was even feeling a little
I didn't want to get stuck with the task of cleaning up the mess and
tried to walk down to the galley. The galley was warm and had what
looked to be newly refinished tables and couches. My sisters were sea
sick and drinking pop.
"Mom, I think Iım going to throw up," my sister Lacee said.
"Just drink some more. We'll be done soon."
Now a word to the wise, if someone tells you that drinking pop
will help settle your stomach, they're on drugs, because as soon as
she took another sip, she blew chunks all over the new couch cushions.
At the hearing of the official throw up sound, the galley cook ran
out of the kitchen to yell at us. I never did find out her name, but I
respectfully christened her, Porko, tempest of the Seas. She was fat
enough to have a tight squeeze walking through the galley door. Her
extreme porcine features were complimented by her unholy body odor. A
slaughter house smells better then she did.
"Get out, get out of my kitchen now. If you canıt handle the ride you
shouldnıt be down here," she vented.
"What do you expect, lady? This is the first time weıve been on the
ocean. No one told us about this barf thing." This was not the time to
mess with my mom, she was becoming sick.
"I really donıt care. Iıll tell you this just once more, get out of
my galley, youıre ruining the atmosphere." Porko commanded.
We got up and started to leave, but before we made it upstairs my
little sister turned around and threw up. The thing is, the fat galley
wench, Porko, was standing behind her. My sister had eaten spaghetti
the meal before and now Porko was wearing it. With that burden out of
her, she exclaimed, "Lady, you stink!"
Once on the upper deck again, I felt very sick. Some guy smoking a
cigar and wearing a beanie told me that if I lay down on top of the
roof, my stomach would be settled. Now, another word to the wise, if
some guy wearing a beanie tells you to lie on top of a roof on a boat
in the ocean to settle your stomach, he is also on drugs. I took his
word and did this. Iıll tell you now, it didnıt work. Once on there, I
threw up. It rolled off the roof and fell down stairs to the galley.
Porko stuck her head and politely screamed some expletives directed
towards me. By the time I felt the situation safe to get off the roof
without her attacking me, I did. I felt pretty good by then. Until I
threw up again, and again, and again. I had a grand total of five
regurgitory experiences. My family had a total of 27 of such
The captain turned on the search lights to look at the
water, and there was a trail of barf following behind the boat for
hundreds of yards. Because of this, we were blamed for the lack of
fish caught during that excursion. In fact, not one person caught
anything. The captain said the fish had been feasting on our
"leftovers", so to speak, and were too full to eat anything the
fisherman threw at them.
Our first ocean fishing experience was anything but successful or
fun, but on the bright side, as a result of our hunger caused by the
sea sickness, Jack In the Box sold $56.32 of hamburgers and milkshakes
to a bunch of land loving Montanans.
About the Author: Max Hunsaker is sixteen-years-old and attends the tenth grade at Bingham High School. He lives in Riverton, Utah. Max also wrote the article How Technology Can Improve Your Writing appearing in this issue.