Read Online Just Add Water (1) by Jinx Schwartz - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Jinx Schwartz
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sail, right?”
Jan cast a cynical eye in my
direction. “Don’t give me any stiff upper lip crap. You’re gonna mouth off
about the place having a certain air about it. Probably get us kicked out
before we begin.”
“You know me all too well, sailor.
Okay, I’ll stow the sarcasm for the sake of my shipmates.”
As their sign instructed, we rang.
After a small delay, during which I suspected we were being checked out through
the peephole, a willowy blonde in white ducks, Docksiders, and a pink
windbreaker swung the door open and greeted us. “You must be Hetta and Jan,”
she said. “I’m Doris. Come on in. We’re getting organized for today’s sail. We
need you to fill out a form or two before we shove off. Did you bring your
Coast Guard certificates? Gotta be careful these days. Lawyers and all.”
We gave Doris copies of our
certificates and followed her into a pennant-festooned room with round, dark
wooden tables surrounded by captain’s chairs. A steaming coffee pot sat on a
counter lined with cups, and marine charts littered a large conference table.
Several women glanced up from poring over the charts, waved, and went back to
planning our day. Jan and I were given questionnaires and pens.
“Sailing experience?” Jan said,
studying the form.
I shook my head. “Nada.”
“If we say that, they might not let
us go.”
“Jan, three weeks ago you said
there was no way in hell you were going to take these lessons. What brought on
your sudden dire need to be accepted?”
“You did. You said if we sailed,
we’d meet men. I’m willing to put in the time.”
“Good girl.” I waved the form at
her. “Let’s be honest.”
Picking up my ballpoint, I filled
in under SAILING EXPERIENCE, Caribbean,
Mediterranean, and trans-Pacific. I left out the fact that all of this
cognitive content was gained on cruise ships the size of small cities.
The next question was easy. WHY DO
YOU WANT TO LEARN TO SAIL? It is against my nature to answer this type of
question with any honesty, but I thought, what
the hey ? and wrote: Meet new people.
Learn a skill. Find a mate.
“You two about ready?” Doris said.
“We’ll be out around four hours. Hope you had breakfast.”
Jan and I looked at each other. “Uh,” I said, “not
exactly. I thought maybe we’d stop for brunch at some waterfront
establishment.”
Doris grinned, shaking her head.
“Sorry, girls. We’re out to sail, not bar hop. I suggest you grab some crackers
from the coffee counter. Sailing on an empty stomach is a real bad idea.”
Jan and I stuffed our pockets with
packages of Premium Saltines, she grumbling something about no peanut butter.
We trailed Doris to a rickety dock where others waited. “Shipmates,” she
yelled, “newbies.”
Twenty women were quickly divided
into four teams and assigned a boat. Mine was a thirty-two foot Catalina under
the command of Dilly, a sturdy looking woman with silvery crew cut hair and
yellow, crooked teeth. Dressed in shiny, dark gray, foul weather gear, she
resembled an overweight shark. After perusing my flimsy sailing curriculum
vitae, she glared at my French manicured silk wraps, ruby ring, and Rolex
watch. An unrefined snort of derision preceded her command to take off the
jewelry. “It’s dangerous,” she spat.
I quickly began shoving everything,
including my neck chain, into a zippered pocket. “Anyone else dressed for
cocktails?” she snarled. Head shakes all around. “No? Then let’s go sailing.
If, that is, Princess here is finished stashing her jewels.”
Feeling like a six-year-old who’d
farted at a family funeral, I slunk onto the boat and gazed longingly towards
Jan, who was being welcomed aboard another vessel by her teammates. She waved,
smiled, and gave me a thumbs-up. I pouted.
Two hours later, I was cold, tired,
hungry, humiliated, and livid. Dilly gave me no quarter, screaming orders I
barely understood and then dressing me down when I didn’t react properly
Jan cast a cynical eye in my
direction. “Don’t give me any stiff upper lip crap. You’re gonna mouth off
about the place having a certain air about it. Probably get us kicked out
before we begin.”
“You know me all too well, sailor.
Okay, I’ll stow the sarcasm for the sake of my shipmates.”
As their sign instructed, we rang.
After a small delay, during which I suspected we were being checked out through
the peephole, a willowy blonde in white ducks, Docksiders, and a pink
windbreaker swung the door open and greeted us. “You must be Hetta and Jan,”
she said. “I’m Doris. Come on in. We’re getting organized for today’s sail. We
need you to fill out a form or two before we shove off. Did you bring your
Coast Guard certificates? Gotta be careful these days. Lawyers and all.”
We gave Doris copies of our
certificates and followed her into a pennant-festooned room with round, dark
wooden tables surrounded by captain’s chairs. A steaming coffee pot sat on a
counter lined with cups, and marine charts littered a large conference table.
Several women glanced up from poring over the charts, waved, and went back to
planning our day. Jan and I were given questionnaires and pens.
“Sailing experience?” Jan said,
studying the form.
I shook my head. “Nada.”
“If we say that, they might not let
us go.”
“Jan, three weeks ago you said
there was no way in hell you were going to take these lessons. What brought on
your sudden dire need to be accepted?”
“You did. You said if we sailed,
we’d meet men. I’m willing to put in the time.”
“Good girl.” I waved the form at
her. “Let’s be honest.”
Picking up my ballpoint, I filled
in under SAILING EXPERIENCE, Caribbean,
Mediterranean, and trans-Pacific. I left out the fact that all of this
cognitive content was gained on cruise ships the size of small cities.
The next question was easy. WHY DO
YOU WANT TO LEARN TO SAIL? It is against my nature to answer this type of
question with any honesty, but I thought, what
the hey ? and wrote: Meet new people.
Learn a skill. Find a mate.
“You two about ready?” Doris said.
“We’ll be out around four hours. Hope you had breakfast.”
Jan and I looked at each other. “Uh,” I said, “not
exactly. I thought maybe we’d stop for brunch at some waterfront
establishment.”
Doris grinned, shaking her head.
“Sorry, girls. We’re out to sail, not bar hop. I suggest you grab some crackers
from the coffee counter. Sailing on an empty stomach is a real bad idea.”
Jan and I stuffed our pockets with
packages of Premium Saltines, she grumbling something about no peanut butter.
We trailed Doris to a rickety dock where others waited. “Shipmates,” she
yelled, “newbies.”
Twenty women were quickly divided
into four teams and assigned a boat. Mine was a thirty-two foot Catalina under
the command of Dilly, a sturdy looking woman with silvery crew cut hair and
yellow, crooked teeth. Dressed in shiny, dark gray, foul weather gear, she
resembled an overweight shark. After perusing my flimsy sailing curriculum
vitae, she glared at my French manicured silk wraps, ruby ring, and Rolex
watch. An unrefined snort of derision preceded her command to take off the
jewelry. “It’s dangerous,” she spat.
I quickly began shoving everything,
including my neck chain, into a zippered pocket. “Anyone else dressed for
cocktails?” she snarled. Head shakes all around. “No? Then let’s go sailing.
If, that is, Princess here is finished stashing her jewels.”
Feeling like a six-year-old who’d
farted at a family funeral, I slunk onto the boat and gazed longingly towards
Jan, who was being welcomed aboard another vessel by her teammates. She waved,
smiled, and gave me a thumbs-up. I pouted.
Two hours later, I was cold, tired,
hungry, humiliated, and livid. Dilly gave me no quarter, screaming orders I
barely understood and then dressing me down when I didn’t react properly
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