Every now and then, I try this thing where I set an hour aside upon waking up and just write. Pure, unadulterated, unedited prose. At the hour mark, I cut myself off and post it. Here is what I wrote today.
The problem with boats is that they sink. One wrong move and your bailing out water, hoping to not wind up in Davey Jones’s Locker. These are the thoughts running through my head on day six of our eleven day, ten night cruise. My wife and I. Our second honeymoon. If the boat was steered one inch to the right or one inch to the left, we could wind up miles off course, running out of food and potable water. Our extended three hour tour. Our own cast of crazy characters.
Another problem with boats is that you’re out in the middle of nowhere. To the east, west, south and north, nothing but deep, black-blue waves. Leagues and leagues of fish and coral and ship wreckage. Ships from as far back as Viking times, preserved by a brine of salt water and barnacles. Everything at the bottom of the sea.
It just seems like too many variables. Too many things that could possibly go wrong. Too many cons, not enough pros. Sure, back in ancient times before airplanes, cross-ocean boating was a viable and reliable source of transportation. People spending days, weeks, even months on piles of wood and steel and rope and fabric. Now, though, we have planes. Now, however, we can get from New York to Australia in about a day. Now cross-ocean excursions are for people to eat way more food then they actually want. Cruises are for people to live in excess. Distractions to keep people from realizing just how close to death they are. Shuffle board, ping pong and midnight buffets. Everything aimed to keep people from thinking about where they are.
My wife and I, we’re just so happy to be out here.