My Life at Sea

Wham! Wham! Wham!
The speed boat raced across the Mississippi Sound, over what I'd estimate to be two-to-three foot waves - although the way the boat was bouncing, they felt more like seven or eight foot waves, as if we were riding the crest of a virtual sunami.
My kidneys felt like they were slamming into my shoulder blades, then falling back down into my hip bones,   settling into place only to slam back up into my shoulder blades again.
The captain, who admitted he'd only laid eyes on this particular boat the day before, was standing as he steered, taking us toward a very dark horizon where we could see it had been raining and, apparently, raining hard.
On board where the sister of the girlfriend of the young captain, myself, and the two guys of the video crew that came into town to put together a video on the Pass Christian Regatta that we were sponsoring. There were several classes of sailing boats engaged in races of different lengths and tests of skill, but we were trying to get good video of the big boats.
Now, I'm not a boat guy. I'm not a beach guy or an ocean/Gulf guy, or even really that much of a water guy. There was a movie many years ago called, "The Sailor Who Fell From Grace With The Sea." Awful movie, really (don't rent it), but I always loved the title. It was me - if I'd ever been a sailor to begin with.
In fact, I try to avoid going out into the Gulf or ocean as much as possible, but sometimes my job requires me to go, usually with media heading out to some of the barrier islands to demonstrate the condition and detail with which they are being cared for.
I didn't really expect to be on this boat trip. But there is that whole responsibility thing of over-seeing the video, and I did think it could be very cool to see these big boats out on the open water, tacking and jibbing and whatever else sailors do on the open sea.
We went out, careful to stay out of the wind of the sailboats, but trying to follow along side as close as possible to get good footage. We shot some, and were heading back in when it started to rain. However, it wasn't raining further out in open water, so we figured we'd go on out to the turning point of the race, to watch the boats make the turn and put up the bright, colorful spinnakers.
After shooting awhile, we decided to risk the weather and head back in. Girlfriend's sister was talking about being worried about giving orders to captain/sister's boyfriend and saying that her mother was opinionated and she was opinionated, but not as opinionated as her sister and she wondered if captain boyfriend knew what he was getting into - not serious, of course; just the kind of talk you have out there among relative strangers thrown together in a boat, having fun.
Anyway, I was sitting up by captain boyfriend, and I jokingly said to him, "You better run." Only I meant from this family. I think he took it as "you better run back to shore."
He opened up the Johnson 115 about as far as it would go, and we were flying - bouncing wave to wave, water flying into the boat, kidneys bruising.
Captain boyfriend was standing, with girlfriend's sister standing behind him. Morris and Dan were sitting in the back on their gear, and I was standing next to the captain, looking over the windshield and holding on for dear life.
"Kidneys are overrated," I said.
"I hear you only need one,'' said Dan.
In a few minutes, we can't see any boats. We can't see land, either Cat Island that was somewhere behind us and to the east, or the mainland that is to the north.
"Is this how Gilligan got lost?'' someone said, laughing.
"Is that an ice berg up ahead?" someone else said.
"Does the compass work?" asked girlfriend's sister. Then, looking down at the compass, "It's not working! It's broken!"
"OK," I said. "We've got five lunches and a cooler of drinks. We can ration food."
Captain boyfriend doesn't slow down. He doesn't even really join in the conversation. He's focused on the horizon, like Ahab chasing Moby Dick.
The captains' chair behind him suddenly falls of its connectoin and clatters to the deck of the boat.
"Don't sit down!" girlfriend's sister said.
"Suddenly losing a kidney doesn't sound so bad, consider what you'll lose if you fall backward,'' one of the guys says.
"Is that chair supposed to come off like that?" I ask.
"So that's what they mean by using your seat as a floatation device,'' Dan said.
I hear Morris say to Dan, "Are these screws supposed to be coming out of the side of the boat like this?"
Sure enough, they are.
Water is gathering in the back. (Aft?)
"Do you think the boat will hold together?" Dan asks.
"Hey, now I understand Captain Jack Black's opening scene in 'Pirates of the Caribbean,''' I said. "You know, how the boat slowly sinks as he comes into port until he steps off on to the dock just before it sinks?"
"Will this boat hold together that long?" someone asks.
Still, captain boyfriend doesn't seem interested in slowing down - until we suddenly come up on some of the smaller classes of sailing boats, and he slows down so as to not interfere.
The good news is, we realize he actually did bring us back to the dock we left from.
And the boat is still in one piece as we pull behind the break wall and to an open boat slip.
We got back onto dry land, opened the coolers to share lunch.
With our kidneys intact.
Later, one of the captains offers to take me out in the actual race the next day.
I declined.
Visions of "The Perfect Storm'' always come to mind when I'm near the open water like this.
That movie still gives me the creeps.