So. Once a year, we go sailing with my husband's aunt and uncle. We are very lucky. This year, the boat was all kinds of broken for most of the summer (water heater and whatnot; it's just as much hassle as a house, really), and Captain Uncle and Aunt First Mate had all kinds of other stuff going on, so we postponed the trip a couple of times. When we realized the newest date fell on Labor Day weekend, we decided to make a whole weekend out of it. So we showed up on Saturday, which was National Bacon Day, apparently.
My husband made Bloody Marys with Oscar Meyer precooked bacon in them. Disgusting.
|"It's a fun little treat at the end of your drink!" -- Mr. Rose|
We decided to sail to Martha's Vineyard. That's where the president vacationed a couple weeks ago, you know, no big deal. I asked how long it took to sail there, and was told it takes three hours. You guys. A three hour tour. Aunt First Mate thought that was funny, but you know what happened to the last three hour tour. I was nervous.
But the sail was fine. The weather was beautiful, my son napped most of the time (thanks, Dramamine), and I didn't wreck the boat when it was my turn to drive.
|Attention Coast Guard: That is definitely not a mimosa in my hand. Nope.|
We had a lovely, uneventful afternoon and evening. That night, I was marveling at how there were at least five times more visible stars in the sky than at home (in the suburbs), and my husband pointed out that you could see them reflecting in the water. Then he looked more closely. Those weren't stars. Were they jellyfish? Sure enough, it looks like someone emptied a glowstick in the water. Greenish spots are flickering all around us. We tell Captain Uncle, and he informs us that they're actually plankton. Then, he hands us an oar and tells us to try stirring them up.
Oh my god, you guys, I tried so hard to get pictures and video for you. They all came out dark. But here's what happened: the entire area we paddled started glowing bright green. It was amazing and magical and I'm super sorry I don't have proof. But hey, some guy on YouTube does! Look:
Thanks, Steve Ramsey!
Later, we see more things glowing. Are those jellyfish? Nope, just a pack of rich kids on light-up surfboards, paddling around and popping bottles of champagne. As one does. I tried again for a picture, but it came out like crap. Sorry. Just use your imaginations.
The next morning, Captain Uncle tells us that the weather has changed. Drastically. It looks like there's a big thunderstorm coming in that night, and it's probably going to stick around all day Monday. Our options are:
- Sail through a thunderstorm.
- Stay on Martha's Vineyard until Tuesday morning.
- Take the dinghy to land, catch the ferry from Oak Bluffs back to the mainland, and have Cap's friend pick us up and drive us back to our car at the yacht club at 11pm Monday night.
Obviously, we weren't into option one. Option two might sound nice, but this would necessitate my husband calling out of work on Tuesday, as well as calling my son out of his third day of kindergarten with the most preposterous First World Problem excuse ever. Oh, and also? We left two cats and a frog at home, with just enough food for three days. And nobody has a spare key to our house, so we'd have to call our landlord and get him to meet someone and give them a key, and then explain over the phone to that someone how to feed Reboot his crickets. So we went with a tentative option three.
That afternoon, we took the dinghy in and walked downtown. We ate at The Black Dog, which I think is a requirement when visiting the Vineyard (try the bruschetta!). We visited the ferry terminal and learned that they were sold out for Monday. Well, shit. We also saw this:
Yes, that is a yacht the size of a Carnival Cruise ship. And yes, that is a god damned helicopter on top. Some people have way too much money.
As we were shaking our heads at that disgusting monstrosity, a taxi van pulled up and a bunch of rich assholes tumbled out of it. Now, don't get me wrong; I don't think all rich people are assholes. But rich people who drink beer in a taxi and literally bark "Get my golf bag" at the driver? Assholes. They boarded the yacht on the left. We asked the driver if he was free, and he was, so he took us back to the dock. We made fun of rich assholes together, and he told us stories about some run-ins he's had with the Secret Service. He was awesome.
We got back to the boat, put the boy to bed, had a couple of drinks, and then the sky opened up. We headed below deck (luckily, my son sleeps like the dead), and the others all announced their plans to turn in shortly. I took my melatonin, and then the epic storytelling started. Half an hour later, it's a party, and I'm off to bed. Lesson learned: when people say they're going to bed soon, don't trust them.
The next morning, weather alternated between heavy rain and fog. We checked the weather roughly every five minutes. All over, it was sunny and mild, except the precise location where we were moored.
My husband and I often joke about our bad luck, saying that it's as is we have a cartoon rain cloud hanging over our heads. But this? This is ridiculous.
|I mean, come on.|
So we hung out on the boat with this vinyl roof thing, waiting for the storm to pass, for the entire morning and the early part of the afternoon.
|Please ignore my un-made-up face; it was day three and boat living is difficult.|
We passed the time hanging with our duck friends who'd been with us all weekend (we named them Sara, Clara and Kara), as well a swan family. We fed them crushed tortilla chips and chewed-up carrots. A few more ducks showed up, but we didn't have a previous relationship with them.
Miraculously, the storm lifted, and we prepared to sail. Once we started the motor, Sara, Clara and Kara came back to say goodbye. So sweet. My husband thinks they were just looking for more food, but I'm convinced they we just really chill ducks.
On the way home, we passed Diane Sawyer's house. Damn.
|"Which one is hers?" you're wondering. Um, all of them. All those buildings are hers. Feeling poor yet?|
We had an uneventful sail back home, except for when I got distracted by a passing boat that was pretty, accidentally took a hard right, and lost the wind completely. We had to make a 180.
We got back to the yacht club, had dinner, and went home. The cats still had plenty of food and water left, and the frog was fine.
So there you have it. We weren't stranded. And fine, Martha's Vineyard is not exactly a desert isle. But would you have read this far if the title was "I Almost Had to Stay an Extra Day on Vacation, You Know, Where the President Stays"? Thought so.
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