You know what’s crazy? I’ll tell you what’s crazy™
The boat trip.
Singer songwriter, James Taylor wrote; “Being on a boat that’s moving through the water, it’s so clear. Everything falls int place in terms of what’s important and what’s not.
I know what Taylor is talking about.
My best friend has a 21 foot Master Craft. It’s an inboard power boat with a large engine and a rocking stereo system.
“Let’s take out the boat,” he says.
You don’t have to ask me twice
As we walk down the dock at Sea World, I can feel my cares dissipating.
The flight tomorrow and the stresses associated with travel begin to fade.
The mortgage, the job, the expense of two kids in college? With each step down the wooden planks, the worries of normal life evaporate like so much steam pouring out of a tea-pot.
We pass sailboats and motorboats moored in the dock. They rise and fall slowly as the easy tide pushes its way into the harbor.
We get on the boat and cast off.
The sun is shining and the air is crisp. It’s a perfect San Diego 80 degree day.
The smell of salt and sea fill my nostrils.
My eyes watch the sun glimmer off the ripples in the harbor as we chug slowly forward.
The Sea World gondolas are passing over us as we make our way to the bay.
“Hello,” someone shouts from above.
My buddy cranks up the stereo and suddenly the post card of my mind is filled with Pink Floyd, Comfortably Numb.
Jet skis criss cross behind us, jumping our wake.
We pass under the Coronado Bridge which attaches one beautiful part of San Diego to an even more beautiful zip code.
We pass the final harbor buoy and my buddy opens it up.
The inboard car engine below us roars into action, like a rocket sled pushing through the waves.
“Wow, it’s smooth,” my friend says, alluding to the tune up he just gave his boat.
We are heading away from the coast, running fast, and the waves, the swells are probably 6 feet.
We get to the crest of a wave and the boat catches air. We slam down on the other side.
“Woah,” my buddy hollers, easing back on the throttle.
“These waves are too big. We need to slow it down.”
He’s right. Many boaters are heading in.
We head about 2 miles from shore and look back at the cliffs of San Diego.
They are brown from draught but beautiful.
“That’s Mexico over there,” my buddy points.
I look to the South at some unremarkable brown hills.
He says it so easily, like it’s no big deal. But to me, it is a big deal. That’s another country over there. Mexico is over there.
There is no line in the dirt, no border patrol or crossing. No secondary inspection. Just blue beautiful ocean.
We could powerboat for another few minutes and be in Mexican water and no one would be the wiser.
What would happen, I wonder. There is no sign of the coast guard. Would they care? Is it even permissible?
We cut through a bed of kelp toward downtown San Diego.
The city is a shimmering bastion of beauty clinging to the coast.
We pass a nuclear submarine base. We pass an aircraft carrier. 10 Navy helicopters fly over our head on patrol.
My friend takes us below the USS Midway. It is a massive construct of metal and engineering.
The anchor alone, dangling from a gigantic chain, is bigger than our boat.
We look up and marvel. The ship has helicopters and jets and flags from all over on deck.
We see people taking the tour staring down at us. We stare back at them.
Our view is remarkably cooler.
As we turn around in the narrow inlet, we see the iconic Unconditional Surrender statue of an anonymous sailor kissing an anonymous nurse in Times Square.
It is large and powerful and the symbol does what it is suppose to do. It makes us think about those who fought and sacrificed so we can enjoy this beautiful day in this great city.
We pull into a dock by the convention center and walk up to Joe’s Crab Shack.
The outdoor patio is covered, allowing a little San Diego sunshine to filter through.
We order a basket of fries and a couple of Mexican beers.
The day is a vacation from real life.
No worries, no phone calls to return, no clocks to slap me in the face.
Late in the afternoon, we begin our trek back.
We head out to see and suddenly, our cell phones all simultaneously chirp.
“Welcome to Mexico. International data features are inactive. You may not be able to place calls.”
“We’re in Mexico boys,” I scream over the engine.
Everyone smiles as we turn North.
A few minutes later my buddy throttles down and the engines subside to a low roar.
“You want to jump in?”
I rip off my shirt and dive into the ocean.
I am several miles off shore. I am in the middle of the Pacific food chain.
Sharks and jelly fish and se creatures fill my mind as I enter the water.
The ocean is cold and I immediately want to get out.
I pop to the surface and the swells are intense.
Land is a long way away. The boat is bobbing up and down before me. It suddenly looks very small in the scope of the huge ocean.
I turn my back on the shore and stare at the horizon. Suddenly, it is me and the sea. There is nothing between my vision and the interminable curvature of the Earth.
It would be easy to panic, so big, so far away, a piece of meat floating on the surface for who knows what lurking below.
Instead I embrace the moment. It is peaceful and relaxing. I bob on the waves like a content cork inhaling the beauty of time.
I turn back to the boat and swim to the stern.
I climb aboard and let the salt water trickle into my mouth.
It is sweet like brined pickle juice.
I wipe my face and let the glow from the setting sun warm my skin.
“That was refreshing as hell,” I say.
My buddy cranks up an Eric Church song and shoves the throttle forward.
The boat lurches into action like an aquatic cheetah hunting meat.
We are headed back; back to the docks, the sunset filling our six.
The shoreline is now bathed in a sweet orange glow. Everything is softer and mellower.
The visual calls for a beer and a time to reflect.
A boat ride can reboot your soul, set you right, get you back on track.
This one surely did for me.
Life’s Crazy™