Posted by: yachtcrewsing | July 30, 2011

My Life, on an Angle

One of the more comical aspects of my job is that when we are under sail, the force of the wind on the sails abruptly shifts my entire world by a significant amount of degrees. Even the most mundane task becomes both challenging and highly comical. Take the act of walking, for instance. My ankles stretch to the zenith of their rotational abilities while my feet desperately grip the floor. Tumbling through a doorway I walk through the very corner while my head narrowly misses the opposite side of the frame. Lurching around like an unbalanced inebriate (for no one really ever truly gets used to the angle), to guests I must appear ridiculous with my silver tray, eyes steadfastly glaring at the martini glasses perched atop. It is always a fine balance to achieve the medium between liquid splashing out of the rim, and the $150 crystal glass succumbing to the unfortunate laws that govern gravity and steep angles.

This heel of the boat (inexorably linked to life on a sailing vessel) also becomes challenging when we are on a passage, some of which take over a week of being at sea (for example, the trip from Ft. Lauderdale, Florida to Antigua in the Caribbean). When sleeping, the angle either permits one to be cozily wedged into the corner created by the wall and the mattress, or necessitates one to desperately splay out like a storm-ravaged tree frog in vain hopes of remaining in ones bunk. Also, showering becomes a terrifying event, in which you are violently jostled around a wet, soapy marble and glass box at the behest of the sea. Such adventures often rapidly result in me cowering cross-legged in the bottom of the death trap, sheepishly clutching the shower head above me as if miming an umbrella. Humility knows no breeding ground quite like the middle of the sea.



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