Dipping into the rations of cheap beer, they spoke of that day sailing in the San Juan Islands. Not often, but becoming increasingly important to each of them, they had searched out the solitude that this quiet bay provides.
When men spend a few days on a boat, lacking the ability to gain personal space, a certain level of cooperation develops. Once the constant bantering and humorous jousting subsides, they relax, accept, and actually enjoy each other’s presence. Well moored in this bay, protected by rocky barriers, minds drifted to and fro with the tide.
Suddenly, like a blast from a foghorn with words, they snapped to attention, only to see this gigantic yacht approaching their small sturdy craft. “We wish to moor alongside you,” the captain shouted through the bullhorn from the top deck, nearly fifty feet above the water.
Resuming the position, they observed in amazement as the huge symbol of wealth maneuvered into its final resting location. Two hydraulic arms rotated to each side of the family vessel, and they watched as each of the captains’ two children were lowered down to the water in speedboats. Within a minute or two, they sped off, and the servants prepared dinner for the proud parents looking down on us from the top rail.
For some reason, or perhaps for obvious reasons, the men started up again with the relentless personal jabbing and insults. It was if they had received a reminder how hard it is to get away.
Men will be boys......
