The alarm clock buzzed and progressively became louder until I slid out of bed to turn it off. Only the light of a waxing moon and a sprinkle of stars illuminated the darkness outside our bedroom window. Arnie turned on the bedside lamp and quickly slipped on blue jeans and a plaid shirt. He glanced at me, still in my nightgown and standing next to the bed, rubbing my eyes. He urgently advised, “Hurry up! Get dressed. Gene and Thelma will be here in half an hour.”

“Who are you?” I snapped grumpily. “You certainly can’t be my husband. He never gets up without a fight.”

Pinching me playfully, Arnie happily explained, “We’re not getting up for work. We’re getting up to start our vacation!”

Our two-truck caravan, each pulling boats, reached the north shore of Lake Superior just as the sun started to rise above the horizon. I spotted a breakfast diner and sighed, “Breakfast, at last!”

Seven hours later we stopped for lunch at a Canadian café. Poutine was on the menu, so of course we ordered some. Gene dug into the gravy drenched, cheese-curd-dotted, French fries and announced with a shrug, “It’s a weird way to eat French fries, but since we’re in Canada, we should give it a try.”

The next two days, Thelma and Gene fished from their boat while Arnie and I fished from our boat. They often quietly sat with bobbers floating on the water. Arnie preferred trawling through bays and inlets. We all caught fish.

Thelma’s birthday was on the third day of our fishing trip, so we planned to celebrate by driving into a nearby town in the afternoon for a special dining out experience. After fishing all morning, we cleaned up and got into one of the trucks.

A mile from our resort, Arnie and Gene spotted a pontoon plane parked in a bay alongside a long dock. A small building set off to one side had a sign that announced, “Trembley Fly-In Service.” Arnie enthusiastically commented, “We should look into fishing at a remote outpost next year.”

Gene suggested, “We should stop and ask if they would accept thirty dollars a person to take us up for an aerial view of this part of Canada.”

Thelma enthusiastically added, “What a fun, special treat that would be!”

I didn’t say anything. I just wanted to eat out. A random fly-about wasn’t thrilling from my easily-made-motion-sick point of view.

Arnie and Gene went into the small building to speak to the pilot. Minutes later they returned to the truck to tell Thelma and me that the pilot agreed to take us up. We were to get into the plane, and the pilot would join us in a few minutes.

The four of us clambered aboard. Glancing around, Gene surmised, “I think this plane was built in the 1950’s.” Not one scrap of fabric softened any of the seats. The smell of gasoline permeated the cabin. When the pilot crawled into the cockpit and started the plane engine, the loud roar made me think we were inside a drum that someone was pounding on. Swallowing a queasy feeling, I thought, “I hope this flight doesn’t last long.”

Skimming across the water, our plane lifted into the air. My companions craned their necks to see the vast land below, which was dotted by many lakes. All the windows of the plane were curved and therefore distorted the view, but that didn’t seem to bother anyone else. Feeling extremely sick to my stomach, I clenched my fists and prayed we would land soon. Giving us good value for our money, the pilot showed no signs of wanting to land.

Finally, returning to the bay we started from, the pilot guided the pontoons to settle gently on the water. Glancing over his shoulder for the first time, he noticed how sick I looked and suddenly barked an order, “Open the sliding door next to her!” Gene leaned forward and did as he was told.

I was grateful to him. Now, if I had to barf, I didn’t have to soil his plane. The possibility of tumbling out of the open door caused me very little concern.

Thelma, Gene and Arnie were still hungry for a steak dinner in town. The three of them jammed together in the front seat of the truck so I could stretch out like a limp noodle on the crew cab seat to recover.

When Arnie and Gene had first mentioned going for an airplane ride, I suspected going along on Thelma’s this special treat for her birthday would make me feel sick. I never seem to learn my lesson. Wishing away motion sickness doesn’t work! Thankfully, I recovered quickly and was able to enjoy a steak later that evening with my companions.