Like most 24 year olds in this world right now, I’m unemployed. It’s not that I’m unqualified. Although, I have no idea what I’m qualified for. Yet, choosing to be gainfully unemployed is a more appealing career even. In the words of my new favorite actor, Matthew McCongahuey (questionable spelling but we have no Internet), It’s a lifestyle, not a hobby. So what do I do with all my free time? I think I’ll go sailing for the first time.
Yea sure, I could slave away in a job that has no personal benefits in the hopes of climbing a corporate ladder. But I’ve never done that, so I’m not sure what the pros of doing such would be. Vacation time? I’m on a permanent vacation in the South Pacific. Dental? Check, I’ve got tooth paste. Health Care? I’ve got some shots. Money? Ok, I’m broke. But I’m resourceful. Teach a man to fish and you feed him for a lifetime right? I’m surrounded by water, fishing poles and spear guns. I think I’ll manage to eat. Plus, I’ll trade in money for a really good tan.
My typical day, starts at 3am. It’s the time my watch starts. With four guys on a boat traveling roughly 1100 nautical miles some ones always got to be on watch making sure you don’t hit a 245m container ship or whale. FYI whales don’t come up on radar. So forget about seeing that floating piece of muscle and just enjoy the crash. Or so I’ve heard. For the next 3 hours the boat is all mine. That’s a lot of responsibility for a guy who signed up for no responsibility. I seem to have a quagmire on my hands. In any case, I am its care taker for the time being, which really means half of the time I sit, listen to music and play 3 different forms of solitaire, games of hearts or mind sweeper sporadically until Brian’s computer program kicks in. Ah The program, which if you read this blog is already known to you. Yay for needless nudity. It’s the simple things in life. Remember that.
The other half of my time is spent looking up at the stars, no homo. Only a small minority of people have ever been able to see the stars at night from horizon to horizon. I grew up in the mountains so seeing stars is not new. Still, the first time they take up the entire skyline from side to side, it stuns you for a while. A shooting star runs almost the entire skyline itself giving me an astro-hard on. For a second I wished I knew more about constellations and space. I should learn something about the stars. Read that Stephen Hawking book on board. Then reality kicks in and I know that’s just not going to happen because it’s Stephen Hawking or I’m lazy. One of the two. I’m not sure I’d understand it anyway. But I will keep reading that book on Hells Angels.
Watch ends and I head back to sleep for a bit. When I wake again, its time for that morning ceremony between me and porcelain. This is not your average comfortable me-time, read the newspaper type of affair anymore. The boat is slapping the ocean waves, pulling 7 knots and leaning towards the starboard side at a 40 degree angle. Our bathroom sits on the port side so this creates a strategic problem in need of solving. I don’t want my body slipping off the craper and ruining the fine decor we have going on in there. I think for a second and my feet go right up on either side of the door propping me up like I’m about to give birth. Problem solved! At this point I’m quite pleased with myself. Until I realized I’ve clogged the toilet and now need to plunge on the high seas. I wont bother with the messy details, lets just say it wasn’t pretty and both parties (me and the toilet) got their punches in. I eventually won, but it feels like a tie.
The morning carries on and before you know it the afternoon is upon us. When you’re at sea it’s easy to lose track of time and days. There’s nothing to do but relax and enjoy the motion of the ocean. (Yep, I said it). It forces you too. Delos is constantly of the opinion the day is February. It’s nice to know spring is coming.
We can all read, at least I believe we can, and most of our afternoon is spent doing such. Books on meditation, crime, adventure and nudie mags are popular choices.
The fishing poles are out and we dominate that ocean for good feeds. Mahi mahi, tuna and wahoo are what we’ve spanked. The hand line is by far my favorite piece of fishing equipment. It has to be reminiscent of how cave men must have fished. A lure tied to a line, the line stretches back to the boat and has no reel or give to it. Once the fish takes the hook its game over. The fish plains as the boat keeps speeding along. Then you just grip and rip it in, while it flaps above the water line. Ya done son.
On a boat with four guys you’d think the cooking would be lackluster. Yet, we’ve had everything from the common spag-bowl to pad thai to two different forms of fish tacos. I’d like to see Bobby Flay or Jaime Oliver cook that well on a moving boat in a kitchen the size of most people’s powder rooms. When dinner is served we partake in a movie. Between the Mad Max trilogy, Waterworld, and a few 80s throwbacks, I don’t know what’s made us dumber. Each flick is cinematic gold, which shows you our taste in film is quite refine.
And then our day is pretty much done. Watches begin all over again.
So this is what sailing is like aboard Delos. Picture this type of day for eight days. Sport pooping and fishing on the high seas, good food, friends, and terrible movies. Sounds a whole lot better than those TPS reports you’ve been working on lately doesn’t it? I’m diving remote islands in the south pacific and you’re falling asleep in office meetings listening to one of your three bosses ramble on, mmk. Yep, we watched Office Space too.
My suggestion… Quit and go sailing. Club Delos will see you on the open water.