It’s not my fault really. I was lead astray by a sea gypsy. My accounts have been laid bare by none other than John Michael and his damn posts on Facebook. I have now squandered time, which was ok, but additionally I am now broke. Thanks Obam… I mean… Our Life Aquatic on the Pura Vida; I blame you entirely.
I was clicking around Facebook last year sometime. You know, checking out family posts and pictures. Reading banal articles on the politics of America; sure we have to have an election but does it need to be so tedious. Those posts always chase me to the groups, such a ‘Live aboard sailboat” or some other ilk. Before I clicked off on another mind numbing post, a news feed item from a high school friend popped up. In that news feed was a picture that my late-night, computer-light, and weary eyes could barely focus on. “Was that a guy at the top of a mast grinning from ear to ear?” I asked myself. “Or is that a Cirq- du-Soleil performer”. I could not tell so I clicked it.
Well it was a guy on a mast. Not just anyone. It was John Michael Wells from “Our life Aquatic”. I didn’t think much of it. Poor guy was up there to get a view of the ocean, since he was trapped in a boat yard. Really felt sorry for him stuck in Key Largo on the hard. Its a miserable life for sure. Pure Life? Pure Hell.
A couple of days go by and I start thinking, that name sounds familiar. Plus there was the connection to my friend from high school; a Brother Martin “crusader”. Luckily, I keep every stitch of paper or item that I ever find and still had my year books. Sure enough, that poor boat yard refugee was in there; with the same full head of hair 30 years later. So I “friend” him because now we have at least 2 connections to each other; high school and sailing (plus NOLA, Mardi gras… well you get the picture)
That’s when my life of constant toil in a living Dilbert cartoon took a turn for the worst. Because that poor boat yard urchin splashed and headed to the Bahamas; probably to get illegal anti-fouling paint, swim with dolphins and generally foment hate of the land based life. If not every day, every week he or his wife posted their pictures. Each time I found my self thinking of cruising and on Yachtworld. Dreaming. Dreaming. Two hours for every post they made. That’s a lot of time wasted; definitely not what a friend would do for another. I could lose my job!
One day while in the prairie dog village, also known as cubes by office workers, I decided to see where I was with respect to saving for the “dream boat”. Yes, we had planned a similar life of “self discovery”; meaning we wanted to change racor filters in the Gulf Stream, while simultaneously puking that night’s dinner. Who doesn’t want to do that? Well, back to finance and away from digestive issues of boats or humans… Turns out I had saved more than I realized. Uh oh.
When we had made the plan years ago and set a date, it was still too far off to be real. So as good Americans we just worked putting savings on auto-pilot and forgotting about it. But now, after seeing John-Michael and his nomadic dinghy, Lagniappe (poorly named IMO try Gris-Gris) I was thinking that I should buy a boat. “Another boat”, thank you for reminding me dear.
As is wont to happen, this one thing lead to many others. I stood before Bob Bitchin, at Strictly Sail Miami as he exhorted others to follow our good sense, to set a date to drain our child’s education fund. I ate his pizza and drank his free beer oblivious to his reverse siren’s song. I visited the beautifully frigid coast of
Maine to see a boat that I wouldn’t purchase. I mean how does a boat on the hard for 2 years get that much water in the bilge? It was worth it for Angel Food Cake French toast at Marcy’s Diner, in Portland. Seems like hundreds of boats flaunted themselves, if not physically, virtually, before me.
So here I am. Travels to New England and Charleston done, a survey complete and trial successful, staring at an acceptance form. Its due tomorrow. Yeah, I am going to sign it. In 3 or 4 weeks I will pick her up in the Bahamas and take her home to Charleston to start a refit. I guess my mostly empty bank account will be drawn down a bit more.
Jennifer,
Wyatt and I will spend some time getting to know her well. We will sail with friends and family making stories and memories that only other sailors can recognize. It will be crazy fun. I blame John Michael Wells for this. And Jason Clements…