To be trapped seasick nauseous and hungry in a small prison cell-like yet expensive room aboard the m/v Kennicott in the North Pacific Ocean, incomunicado from friends and family and with no doctors obviously on board (a sign outside the purser’s office reads to the effect of “medical professionals please volunteer during an emergency”), enclosed with physical and emotional pain, and peep on the horizon outside the little circle window the snow white ridges of the Fairweather Range rising above gentle crests of wake and against clear celestial blue sky is just about worth the trouble. It is better in some ways than living a cubicle life in D.C. Most…