Crew members with binoculars took turns in the crow’s nest, a steel perch more than twenty-five feet above the upper deck. It was a loathsome job because the height exaggerated the swaying of the ship, causing bouts of intense seasickness. Later, when I was aboard the Bob Barker, I would spend hours in the crow’s nest, taking in the view and seeing how long I could last. The scariest of carnival rides, it felt as though I were perched atop a swinging metronome.
