Random thoughts
From Fearful To Fearless
Soon after my first divorce I decided to make a personal daydream into a reality. For as long as I could remember, I visualized myself driving a two-seater sports car, towing a small sailboat. I’d never sailed but it was a nice daydream.
I started dating a guy who owned a sailboat — a catamaran — and found that the twin hull sailing was much more fun (and dangerous) than the little monohull sailboats of my daydreams. I decided my perfect boat was the 14-foot Hobie Cat and I bought a new one from a local dealer.
That was my first bold move, buying the boat without talking with my sailor boyfriend. But, it was my dream, my money, and my boat. It was small enough for one person and fast enough to be an exciting sailing experience. There was just one major problem: I was afraid to sail the boat! My boyfriend sailed it around his lake for the first couple weeks but I didn’t have confidence that I’d be able to sail it on my own.
I had some vacation time coming and, since I lived in a condo complex that was miles away from any large bodies of water, I rented a place at Indian Rocks Beach on Florida’s central west coast. I borrowed my boyfriend’s trailer and took my Hobie to the beach expecting to sail it when my boyfriend visited.
The next day it hit me: this was my boat, I should be the one to sail it! So, early in the afternoon, with some help from the teen son of another guest, I got the boat ready to launch. I was more afraid than I’d been in a long time. I’d never sailed the boat by myself and I hadn’t done very well the few times I’d tried with my boyfriend’s guidance. I knew I was probably making a very big mistake. I also knew that this was a now or never situation: learn to sail or die trying.
My helper and I got the boat into the surf, I walked it into deeper water then climbed aboard the trampoline. The wind caught the mainsail and I scrambled for the mainsail line and the tiller which controlled the rudders on the ends of the hulls. Once I was positioned properly, I tightened the mainsail and used the tiller to maneuver until the wind filled the sail. Within minutes I was actually sailing my little boat and feeling incredible! That is, until I looked back at the disappearing shoreline and looked forward at the open expanse of the Gulf of Mexico.
It didn’t take long for my situation to crystalize: I was alone on a little boat that I didn’t know how to sail, heading for who knew where. Worst of all, I hadn’t told anyone my plan, so nobody would know that I might need rescuing if I didn’t return soon. As far as the rest of the beach guests knew, I was an experienced sailor.
Once I realized just how dangerous my situation was, I panicked. I tried to bring the boat around but couldn’t. A perfect wind was taking me straight out to sea!
When I pushed on the tiller to bring the boat around the boom swung toward me and I ducked to avoid being hit in the forehead. The boom immediately swung back to its original position and the little boat continued moving forward. I screamed at the boat. I screamed into the wind. And I knew with absolute certainty that I was going to die.
It’s a strange thing, but once I knew I’d probably die, I calmed down. It wasn’t that the fear was gone but it got shoved back behind a very strong determination to try everything necessary to take control of the situation. No one else had put me where I was, in the danger I was in. It had been my choice. A stupid choice, but my choice, and now I had to deal with it. No one else was going to save me; I had to save myself. Doing nothing wasn’t an option. Waiting for someone to rescue me wasn’t an option.
As the boat continued rapidly out to sea, I nudged the tiller to the right and then to the left to see how the boat reacted. I pulled the mainsail tighter, I let it all the way out. Finally, deciding that any action was better than none, I pushed hard against the tiller forcing the rudders in the opposite direction. The boom snapped past my head and the boat rocked and lurched on the waves as I crawled to the opposite hull then slowly brought the mainsail line tighter. Wind filled the sail and the boat moved rapidly forward, one hull slightly out of the water.
I didn’t realize then what a dangerous maneuver jibbing was, but it had worked, and, instead of heading out to sea, I was now on a course toward the very distant shore. I wasn’t sure what part of the beach I’d land on but that really didn’t matter. Dying didn’t seem to be on the day’s agenda anymore.
Miraculously, as the beach got closer, I saw that the boat was heading straight toward the same spot it had been launched from! But now there was a new problem. The perfect wind propelling my boat was moving us so fast that I doubted the boat would stop once it got to shore. If I couldn’t stop it quickly enough, several people in lounge chairs were in the boat’s extended path. A few thousand feet from shore I began shouting for people to get out of the way but my voice didn’t carry far enough and no one moved. They didn’t move even after my Hobie Cat came out of the water and slid to a stop just short of their chairs.
I got off the boat, dropped the sail, and sat down in a nearby chair until I stopped shaking.
I learned to sail that day and from then on, I was fairly fearless on the water, pushing my boat to its limits. Occasionally I’d push too hard and flip it over, and on a couple occasions I did the dreaded “pitchpole” which is an end-over-end cartwheel that can be very damaging to the boat and anyone on board.
Never again did I feel the fear that I did that first day.
Tough Lessons At Airport Security
Security at Las Vegas’ McCarren Airport may be one of the tightest to go through but travelers certainly get enough warnings about what they can bring as carry-ons. Liquids, gels, creams, (including hand cream, toothpaste, insulin, lipbalm, etc), must be 3 ounces or LESS in size and all placed inside ONE one quart clear plastic zip-top bag which is pulled out of the regular carry-on bag and placed seperately for screening.
One of our visits it took an hour to go through security for gates A-B. The initial “lines” formed at about six different checkpoints and then funneled down into the one continuous, amusement park type line. The problem with the six checkpoints is that the farther to the end, the slower the lines move because the first few are feeding into the front of the security line and the last lines can’t merge.
How would you like to be the guy who had to dump his unopened bottle of Black Label scotch prior to going through security? Or the woman who had to throw away a $600 bottle of perfume?
If you’re planning on bringing any type of liquid, gel or cream that’s over 3 ounces, put it into your checked baggage. Otherwise, give it away before you get to the airport. Or, in the case of the Black Label, pass it around and let those people standing in the security line help you dispose of it.