Ahoy
Tuesday, February 7th, 2006A long time ago, in a Great Lake not so far away, my parents had a sailboat. A sailboat, for you landlubbers, is a wind-powered watercraft designed to transport you from point A to point B at the slowest speed possible - typically one furlong per fortnight. The benefit to sailing, of course, is that it does not require the use of fossil-fuel-gulping, pollution-spewing combustion engines, except when there's no wind - which only occurs when you really want to get somewhere. When there is actual wind, you can enjoy Mother Nature at its finest - your vessel gliding serenely through the water, waves lapping at the hull, wind whipping through your hair, and your passengers spewing the contents of their stomachs over the side.
Our sailboat was of the cruising variety - thirty feet long, with a rather well-appointed cabin. There were several bunks, with room to sleep seven (or more, depending how close everyone was). It had a "galley", which was basically like your average kitchen, if you took your average kitchen and fit it into a linen closet. It also had a "head", which is basically a bathroom featuring an actual toilet which anyone could operate, assuming they had a PhD in engineering.
Because it was a fairly hefty investment, and because they were sado/masochists, my parents felt compelled to include the boat in every family vacation for the bulk of my pre-pubescent years. We'd typically spend a couple weeks sailing up and down the coast of Lake Michigan, stopping in quaint little ports (and by "quaint", I mean "fishy-smelling"). Upon arrival, my sister and I would jump off, kiss the dock, spend twenty minutes trying to remember how to walk on ground that doesn't move, then run off in search of the closest arcade.
Inevitably, we would run into foul weather. One time, we were headed for one of the aforementioned quaint little ports late in the evening when a storm hit. The waves were around eight to ten feet, and we were getting tossed around enough that the cabin interior was being rearranged roughly every ten seconds. My sister and I became thoroughly seasick, and emptied our guts on everything, including the cabin, ourselves, and Mom. Dad wasn't party to the fun, as he was up top, in full rain gear, steering the boat and having a ball in the pouring rain and pitching seas.
Mom took issue with the fact that Dad refused to drop sail and power the rest of the way in. When her patience was completely worn out, she suggested that Grandma and Grandpa weren't married when Dad was born, and then closed up the cabin from the inside, leaving Dad to the elements. The rest of the story gets a little hazy for me, but in the end, everyone turned out OK - even my sister, who has recently completed her therapy.
I'd like to try sailing again some day. It really can be fun, and I gotta thank Mom and Dad for the experience. For parents out there looking for new and exciting things to do with your kids, try sailing. It's a great way to spend time with them, blow their inheritance, and drive them up the wall all at the same time. And it's perfectly legal.
Our sailboat was of the cruising variety - thirty feet long, with a rather well-appointed cabin. There were several bunks, with room to sleep seven (or more, depending how close everyone was). It had a "galley", which was basically like your average kitchen, if you took your average kitchen and fit it into a linen closet. It also had a "head", which is basically a bathroom featuring an actual toilet which anyone could operate, assuming they had a PhD in engineering.
Because it was a fairly hefty investment, and because they were sado/masochists, my parents felt compelled to include the boat in every family vacation for the bulk of my pre-pubescent years. We'd typically spend a couple weeks sailing up and down the coast of Lake Michigan, stopping in quaint little ports (and by "quaint", I mean "fishy-smelling"). Upon arrival, my sister and I would jump off, kiss the dock, spend twenty minutes trying to remember how to walk on ground that doesn't move, then run off in search of the closest arcade.
Inevitably, we would run into foul weather. One time, we were headed for one of the aforementioned quaint little ports late in the evening when a storm hit. The waves were around eight to ten feet, and we were getting tossed around enough that the cabin interior was being rearranged roughly every ten seconds. My sister and I became thoroughly seasick, and emptied our guts on everything, including the cabin, ourselves, and Mom. Dad wasn't party to the fun, as he was up top, in full rain gear, steering the boat and having a ball in the pouring rain and pitching seas.
Mom took issue with the fact that Dad refused to drop sail and power the rest of the way in. When her patience was completely worn out, she suggested that Grandma and Grandpa weren't married when Dad was born, and then closed up the cabin from the inside, leaving Dad to the elements. The rest of the story gets a little hazy for me, but in the end, everyone turned out OK - even my sister, who has recently completed her therapy.
I'd like to try sailing again some day. It really can be fun, and I gotta thank Mom and Dad for the experience. For parents out there looking for new and exciting things to do with your kids, try sailing. It's a great way to spend time with them, blow their inheritance, and drive them up the wall all at the same time. And it's perfectly legal.
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posted by Jamii T : : Tuesday, February 7th, 2006
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