When the Hero first suggested that we learn how to sail, he read a description from the company's website to reassure me. "Listen, it says 'The basics of sailing can be mastered by nearly everyone.' See? It's easy."
It was the "nearly" that concerned me.
But our instructor, Captain Russ, was very friendly and reassuring. He wanted to know our goals for the lesson. Did we actually want to learn something, or did we just want to sit back and have a pleasant experience?
I looked at the Hero. THAT was an option? To ENJOY myself?
But no one else chose that option, so I pretended that I, too, wanted to learn something rather than have a good time.
I set a pretty straightforward goal: I was most interested in "how to make the sailboat go where you want it to go," or, failing that, "how to make the sailboat go at all."
Before we got on the boat, Captain Russ introduced some important sailing terms, starting with the major parts of the boat. It seemed to me that many of these names suggested pain -- boom, jibe, winch. After a while I could no longer remember what was what, and continued to use terms that seemed to me more descriptive, such as flap, pointy thing, swinging thing, ouchie thing, etc.
I don't mind saying that of all the students -- a grand total of three -- I was the best at keeping the boat pointed in the right direction at all times. The others regularly wandered off course when they were in charge, distracted by having to adjust the sails or something else irrelevant. Not me. If Captain Russ told me to aim for the stone building on the other shore, by golly I was gonna aim for the stone building on the other shore. I was so good at this task that even after we left the boat and got into our car to come home I was still muttering, "Keep your eye on the stone building, keep your eye on the stone building..." Luckily the Hero was driving.
Naturally, this focusing on the goal meant I could not pay attention to various other minor details, like avoiding other boats in our path. Captain Russ went over some of the rules for right of way on the water, but astrophysics seemed easier to understand. I quickly distilled all the rules into one, easy-to-understand rule: Everyone stay clear of our boat, like several miles downstream.
Captain Russ talked several times of the virtues of enrolling in the three-day sailing course, at the end of which we would be certified to take a boat out on our own. On this boat we could take our friends and family and everyone we valued most, provided that if any of them found reason to question and, perhaps, sue the individual who had instructed us, we would forget that we had ever heard of Captain Russ.
But he assured us that students who take the course become very close with each other during the three days of being crammed in a tight little space far from land, and they become lifelong friends. This is probably because at some point during the course, they realize that these are the people they will most likely perish with if anything goes wrong.
We have not decided yet whether to pursue a longer course. But if we do, it won't be hard to identify me. I'll be the one heading toward the stone building.
For further information, we present a short Q&A about the three-day certification course:
Q: If I take the certification course, will I FINALLY reach the stone building across the bay??
A: Yes. And your fellow students will be more than happy to drop you off there.
Q: Great! And when would they pick me up again?
A: On the fourth day.
Q: On the fourth -- but, uh...
A: Oh, look, we're out of time for questions! Enjoy your course!
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