Sometimes, I miss Sarajevo. I miss having a functioning vocabulary of six words ("tomato," "beer," "half," "pleasure," "embassy," and "sh***y"). I miss not having the slightest clue as to what is happening or why.
Sunday, I relived the Bosnia magic by going sailing with Tim and his dad. It was worth it for the lingo alone. I swiped the Rigging Checklist Rainbow (no relation to Reading Rainbow) for your enjoyment. It's like the IRS wrote it, with the assistance of drunken NSA codebreaker monkeys:
One anchor and rode in lazarette
Lead outhaul back through grommet in clew of sail
Uncleat and clear main halyard
Locate luff wire or rope sewn in front edge of jib
Appaloosa
Whuh? So, while they put the boat together, I went off in search of a life jacket that wouldn't suffocate me. When you're about the size of a hiking boot, an "adult universal" life jacket feels like a full-body condom. No luck with finding a smaller jacket, but the captain guy was nice enough to apologize before he asked for my weight and age (he prefaced the whole thing by saying he normally knew better than to ask those things of a lady...uh, I'm no lady).
Fortunately, the guys had put the boat together (my scientific term) and pretty much had things under control. Once we got out on the water, my job consisted of:
Handing people things
Staying out of the way
Not pitching myself overboard
Not barfing
That last part was tricky. I've been known to get motion sickness just walking down the street. I take Dramamine like most people take vitamins. Most of my childhood family vacation memories involve roadside sagebrush, my mom holding my hair, and full-on heaving. In short, I don't travel well.
So I chose to focus on a horizon point: something on land, that wasn't moving, to allow my inner ear to adjust. Unfortunately, most of the "white houses" I chose to focus on, were, in fact, abnormally large boats. They were moving, I was moving, my breakfast was ready to move as well.
But it was OK. In fact, it was really fun. I should take this sailing thing more seriously. It's an excuse, after all, to try out a new look. Should I go pirate wench, and spend my weekends wearing corsets and forcibly boarding the yachts of Annapolis? Or should I wear cute little Sailor Moon getups like an anime freak? Or maybe I should wear yuppie Nautica clothes with anchors on them.
In the comments, tell me whether you'd rather be a pirate, an anime character, or a yuppie. Or tell me about a time you almost threw up, preferably in the presence of your significant other and at least one parental unit.
4 comments:
It reads like Vogon poetry. Bleh
And, once again, I'm out-nerded by Ibid!
Though, for a split second, I did think you were talking about my writing in general. Bleh!
Sadly, and it pains me to say this, but I'm a yuppie...*GASP*!!!!!
Anyway, growing up my parents had a station wagon with the seat facing backwards. I ALWAYS had to sit back there and let me tell you...riding backwards is the worst. I puked everytime we went on a road trip. And even worse, instead of my dad pulling over, he'd just put the back window down. So we'd be bombing down the highway, back window down, 7-yr-old booting out the back. Schweet!!!!
Ugh - I can't even sit backwards on the Metro, let alone in a bumpy old station wagon! I love that most people's family vacation stories center around getting lost and barfing.
Post a Comment