Then there was that rogue wave that leapt up out of the ocean and sprinkled my MacBook Air with just enough saltwater that it immediately conked out. And then, because I'm an idiot, I further ruined any chance of salvaging my livelihood by turning it on. Twice. Luckily, this sort of thing happens quite a bit on the island, so finding a expat repairman who can fix it cheaply is pretty easy. For future reference, if your repair guy has a long ponytail, works out of a dusty garage or storage unit full of dated appliance parts, trust. He's your man.
Then came the boat breakdown. Motion sickness has been a growing problem for me over the past few years, and recently it's become more of an urgent ok-I-need-to-fix-this issue with the more buses, boats, and hammocks I find myself in (yes, I get queasy in a hammock). This time, I showed up prepared. I had the Transderm patch behind my ear, I had eaten a small carb-y breakfast, and I had also taken the awesome Thai version of Dramamine that worked miracles on a recent bus ride from the Perhentians to Penang. I was ready to dive!
That is, until we started actually moving. 30 minutes into the boat ride to Sail Rock and I could barely look down without wanting to hurl. Instead of calming down, I full-on freaked out — ugly cried, refused to get in the water, the whole bit. My poor dive instructor didn't know what to do with me, and I couldn't really explain what I was feeling either — except that it probably meant I should hold on off completing my dive certification (I was just one dive away!) The most disappointing part is that I had waited a year to dive at Sail Rock, and if I had gone through with it, I would have spent the next few days diving with whale sharks.