Tri-State Neighbor: South Dakota Farm Newspaper

I should have been a pirate! I absolutely loved being in a ship on the sea. I always assumed that my Irish and Norwegian ancestors were all farmers, but there must have been a sailor in there someplace. I felt at home and at peace on the water.

The purpose of a cruise, apparently, is to eat, have fun and pamper oneself. My purpose was a little different. I went to sea to see the sea. When I stood on deck or looked out a window and saw nothing but sea, sky and horizon, I said, "This is beautiful. It's so clean and clear and peaceful."

My traveling companion said, "Uh-huh." She's a little more normal than I am. Having the first activity on board be the lifeboat drill did not settle her nerves about setting sail.

My vacation photos are sea and sky, sea and sky, other ships, a little sand, more sea and sky. My friends can be oh-so-grateful that I don't have a video camera.

Apparently, we sailed through a heavy storm one night. My friend lay in her bunk repeating the mantra, "I won't throw up. I won't throw up." I slept right through it and I'm sorry that I did. I would have loved to hear the water splashing against our window.

"Uh-huh," said my friend, consistently more normal than I.

I won't deny that I enjoyed the amenities of the cruise. A cabin steward who cheerfully tidied up whenever we left our cabin, three waiters hovering by our elbows at every meal, gourmet food, non-stop food, stretching out in a deck chair without a care in the world, elegant and spotless surroundings. All that was mere icing on the ocean but it was definitely good icing.

Life on a cruise ship is a long step away from reality. Returning to reality happens very quickly. As soon as one steps off the ship, in fact. Florida carefully screens its customs, security and airport employees to find the rudest staff available. This is a service provided to help cruise ship customers transition back to the real world abruptly and without question.

The first words I heard from a landlubber were, "Hey! You don't belong in that line! You're not first class!" Talk about popping the cruise ship bubble! I wanted to say, "Aarrrh, walk the plank," but I was fairly certain I would be arrested.

Back at home, my friend took a week or more to get over the feeling that she was still bobbing around on the ocean. I, on the other hand, felt great. I was born with sea legs, ironic for a person who hates to get her face wet and dropped out of swimming lessons because the swim cap gave her a headache.

Next time I travel I would like to book passage on a freighter. Some people - actually everyone I have mentioned it to - think this is a crazy idea. Which makes it all the more intriguing.

Freighter travel would simply remove the icing and leave the sea. True, one's schedule needs to be a little flexible. Freighter travel typically ranges from six weeks to three months. The purpose of pulling into port is to load and unload freight. Cruise lines pull into port for mass shopping sprees.

At least I won't have to go down and hang around the docks looking for passage. Freighters have Web sites so that land-locked daydreamers like me can point and click their way to reservations.

"Where do you want to go?" asks the online form. Far, I reply.

"When do you want to go?" Now.

"How long do you want to be gone?"

Until the seas dry up and the freighter runs out of places to go.

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