Sudden change in plans.
So yesterday I'm in the Seattle REI, up on the second floor mezzanine filling bag after bag with clothes made from quick-drying space fibers that dry instantly and add ten inches to your vertical leap when my cell phone rings. (I have a cell phone now, by the way. Shocking, I know.) It turns out it's a lady from the Sea Education Association (you know, that thing I'm doing in the fall where I'm going sailing the Caribbean).
SEA Lady: Hi Ben, I have some important news for you.
Me: Okay.
SEA: Due to low enrollment in your class, we've decided to cancel it.
Me: Um...
SEA: (Quickly, before I recover enough to swear.) But you do have several options.
Me: I sure hope so.
I should note here that about 10,000 dollars have already been paid toward this venture.
SEA: For one thing, we can put you on the South Pacific trip. That goes from Puerto Vallarta, Mexico to Tahiti.
Me: (Brightening.) That sounds okay.
SEA: Do you need the weekend to think about it?
Me: (Long silence.) No. Yes.
SEA: I'm sorry for the short notice.
Me: Er...bye.
I was a little bit shellshocked. There I was, in the middle of an all out shopping extravaganza (which is about a once-per-decade activity for me) totally devoted to sailing the Caribbean, and this lady swoops in to tell me that there's actually not a chance in hell I'm sailing in the Caribbean, but I can follow in the veritable footsteps of Captain Cook, if I so desire. So that's what I'll do. It screws up my plan of settling in Key West, spending my days sailing the gulf stream and my nights drunk in a Spanish colonial-style hotel banging angrily on a typewriter with a corn-cob pipe jutting from my mouth, but oh well.
A quick perusal of the SEA website reveals an itinerary of last year's equivalent of the South Pacific Voyage. It started in Puerto Vallarta (no, not the Mexican restaurant in Pullman) and a few weeks later stopped briefly in some place called Hiva Oa, Marquesas, which sounds like a savage, untamed, and probably volcanic atoll, the sort of place you don't want to be left behind. Later it stopped in Rangiroa, Tuamotus, which I'm sure is quite urbane. Finally it arrived in Arr Papeete, Tahiti, where they were doubtlessly greeted by natives in dugout canoes and offered bundles of fried plantains.
My parents were there at the time of the phone call, and I had this conversation with my dad:
Dad: So, it's going to cost a hell of a lot more to fly you to Puerto Vallarta than St. Croix.
Me: Yeah. And to get back from Tahiti.
Dad: (Shaking his head) No. I'm not gonna pay for that.
Me: Huh?
Dad: Tell you what, I'll buy you a ticket as far as Hawaii.
Me: Guess I'm moving to Hawaii, then.
So it's all quite bizarre. But I wanted an adventure, and it's beginning already.
SEA Lady: Hi Ben, I have some important news for you.
Me: Okay.
SEA: Due to low enrollment in your class, we've decided to cancel it.
Me: Um...
SEA: (Quickly, before I recover enough to swear.) But you do have several options.
Me: I sure hope so.
I should note here that about 10,000 dollars have already been paid toward this venture.
SEA: For one thing, we can put you on the South Pacific trip. That goes from Puerto Vallarta, Mexico to Tahiti.
Me: (Brightening.) That sounds okay.
SEA: Do you need the weekend to think about it?
Me: (Long silence.) No. Yes.
SEA: I'm sorry for the short notice.
Me: Er...bye.
I was a little bit shellshocked. There I was, in the middle of an all out shopping extravaganza (which is about a once-per-decade activity for me) totally devoted to sailing the Caribbean, and this lady swoops in to tell me that there's actually not a chance in hell I'm sailing in the Caribbean, but I can follow in the veritable footsteps of Captain Cook, if I so desire. So that's what I'll do. It screws up my plan of settling in Key West, spending my days sailing the gulf stream and my nights drunk in a Spanish colonial-style hotel banging angrily on a typewriter with a corn-cob pipe jutting from my mouth, but oh well.
A quick perusal of the SEA website reveals an itinerary of last year's equivalent of the South Pacific Voyage. It started in Puerto Vallarta (no, not the Mexican restaurant in Pullman) and a few weeks later stopped briefly in some place called Hiva Oa, Marquesas, which sounds like a savage, untamed, and probably volcanic atoll, the sort of place you don't want to be left behind. Later it stopped in Rangiroa, Tuamotus, which I'm sure is quite urbane. Finally it arrived in Arr Papeete, Tahiti, where they were doubtlessly greeted by natives in dugout canoes and offered bundles of fried plantains.
My parents were there at the time of the phone call, and I had this conversation with my dad:
Dad: So, it's going to cost a hell of a lot more to fly you to Puerto Vallarta than St. Croix.
Me: Yeah. And to get back from Tahiti.
Dad: (Shaking his head) No. I'm not gonna pay for that.
Me: Huh?
Dad: Tell you what, I'll buy you a ticket as far as Hawaii.
Me: Guess I'm moving to Hawaii, then.
So it's all quite bizarre. But I wanted an adventure, and it's beginning already.