I used to work as a photographer on a popular cruise line. The ship, which carried nearly 3,000 passengers, would cruise up to Alaska in the summer months. Towards the end of the season the weather would start to disintegrate and with the rainy weather came rough seas.

In the center of the ship was a massive open room, the Grand Atrium. On Formal night all the passengers would get dressed up in black tie attire, waltz down the dual, red-carpeted spiral staircases into the middle of the atrium, to get their free champagne and take dozens photos from the preying photographers (that was me). As you can imagine, when the seas are rough, the whole ordeal becomes very difficult. Women with 4-inch heels in formal gowns attempting to pose for a photo with their husband hanging on to glasses of champagne for dear life as 20 foot swells rolled by.

One particularly dreadful evening, the atrium was packed. I was in the front of the room, shooting pictures as they came down the central stairs. I remember telling a gentleman and his young son to wait just a moment mid-way down the stairs so I could snap a photo, and then, it happened. The kid, about age 8, got seasick. Right over the edge of the stairs, on to the other photographers, the cameras, the flowers, everything. Within seconds the entire room reeked of vomit. Everyone ran- covering their mouths and noses- to the nearest door. But the seas were rough, the wind high, and the doors locked. So they ran next to the bathrooms - full! What followed what the most synchronized array of puking I have ever seen in my life. It spread like wildfire, everyone clutching a barf-bag, a garbage can, even a potted plant.

-- Jessica M., Redmond