She has been calling me for a few years now. Maybe it is the romance of it, maybe its my penchant for the color navy blue, or maybe the sound in my ears is the same sound all modern males hear as they are stuffed behind a desk with a trip to the water cooler being the closest thing to an adventure we can hope for.
Shall we be men of action, or shall we push pencils by day and sail sofas by eve? I say we hoist sails… and thanks to a chance walk past a ticket booth advertising $27 for a two hour tour, I did.
We did not go all the way round the island, nor even touch one of the seven seas, but we did have fun. There were three in the crew, seven of us passengers total, and none were amused at my Gilligan’s Island references or my rendition of the theme song.
Once out of the docks, with the sails set and motor cut, we were left with the sound of splashing water and wind in canvas. Working for little more than tips, the crew answered questions, laughed at our jokes, and did quite well at knowing when we wanted to be entertained or left alone.
Newport is home to America’s premier yacht racing teams. As we floated about we had the pleasure of watching some professionals in boats worth more than my whole block, demonstrate the art of sailing.
We were in no hurry to get anywhere, but despite our efforts to do as little as possible, we did manage to steal someone’s wind, argue about the Eagles and Steelers, and win a game of chicken with a tug boat.
Both crew and passengers were a surprisingly pleasant bunch. When another passenger posed behind the wheel for the obligatory photo-op, I decided to do the same. Of course I could not just stand there and smile, I had to say, “hold up. This is Newport! Let me do my Vanderbilt.” As you can see by the reaction of the real sailor, this joke was more original than I anticipated.
I have now heard the call. I hope to answer it again soon.