Where'd You Go, Bernadette

Excerpt from my report on Sir Ernest Shackleton

The Drake Passage is the body of water between the southern tip of South America at Cape Horn, Chile, and the Antarctic continent. The five-hundred-mile passage is named after the sixteenth-century privateer Sir Francis Drake. There is no significant land at the latitudes of the Drake Passage. This creates the unimpeded circular flow of the Antarctic Circumpolar Current. As a result, the Drake Passage is the roughest and most feared water in the world.

From: Bernadette Fox

To: Manjula Kapoor

The things you learn from eighth graders when you ask rhetorical questions like, What are you doing in school these days?

For instance, did you know the difference between Antarctica and the Arctic is that Antarctica has land, but the Arctic is just ice? I knew Antarctica was a continent, but I figured there was land up north, too. Also, did you know there are no polar bears in Antarctica? I didn’t! I thought we’d be watching from our boat as poor put-upon polar bears attempted to leap from one melting iceberg to another. But you’ll have to go to the North Pole for that sad spectacle. It’s penguins that populate the South Pole. So if you had some idyllic image of polar bears frolicking with penguins, disabuse yourself now, because polar bears and penguins are literally on different ends of the earth. I suppose I should get out more.

Which brings me to the next thing I didn’t know. Did you have any idea that getting to Antarctica requires crossing the Drake Passage? Do you know that the Drake Passage is the most turbulent body of water on the entire planet? Well, I do, because I just spent the last three hours on the Internet.

Here’s the thing. Do you get seasick? People who don’t get seasick have no idea what it’s like. It’s not just nausea. It’s nausea plus losing the will to live. I warned Elgie: All that matters during those two days is that he keep me away from guns. In the throes of seasickness, blowing my brains out would be an easy call.

Ten years ago I saw a documentary on the siege of that Moscow theater. After just forty-eight hours of the terrorists confining the hostages to their seats with no sleep, the lights blazing, and being forced to pee in their pants — although if they had to shit, they could do so in the orchestra pit — well, more than a few hostages just stood up and walked to the exit knowing they’d get shot in the back. Because they were DONE.

My point is this. I’m getting really scared about the trip to Antarctica. And not just because I hate people, which, for the record, I still do. I just don’t think I can make it across the Drake Passage. If it weren’t for Bee, I’d certainly cancel the trip. But I can’t let her down. Maybe you can find me something really strong for seasickness. And I don’t mean Dramamine. I mean strong.

On another topic: I fully expect you to be charging me for the time it takes to read all my rambling emails!