Let's drag a black ship down to the sacred sea, select a crew, load oxen on for sacrifice, and Chryseis, that fair-complexioned girl. Let's have as leader some wise counselor—Idomeneus, Ajax, godlike Odysseus, or you, Peleus's son, most eminent of all, so that with sacrifice we may appease the god who shoots from far away.
The Iliad, Bk. I
Do you mess about in boats? I do on occasion. I grew up around boats in New York and Connecticut and am at home on, in, and under the water. Come to think of it, I've spent the vast majority of my life near a coast of some kind. I'm a particularly strong swimmer and enjoy spearfishing, angling, and surfing. I rowed at university. I love spending time in the water, whether it's skindiving off Kauai, hunting grouper in the Bahamas, or showering with a couple of young brunette surf hotties back at my place.
But sailing? I've never had a particular interest in sailing as a calling or way of life. It's just something one does. I'm afraid I find it rather boring. Some sailors go on about sailing the same way wine enthusiasts talk about wine. No reason to get pedantic about it. It's highly irritating. Ruins the mood. But that's just me. I prefer motor boats. Thames launches and Adirondack wooden boats are more my thing. I am, however, still able to admire as objects of beauty the sweeping lines and majestic configurations of classic yachts.
I'm surrounded by classic yachts. Southern California, as you well know, is a sailor's paradise. For several years my late father owned a sailboat, a 47' beauty stabled in Newport Beach and La Paz, Baja. He couldn't sail, at least not very well, so he hired a crew to handle the sailing side of things. With friends he accompanied it down to Baja and up the coast to the San Juan islands in Washington. When he died, an event I wrote about here two years ago, the boat more or less disappeared. The case is ongoing.
I belong to a yacht club. Which reminds me: I need to cancel my membership. The other members are an awfully nice crowd, don't get me wrong, but they drink cocktails at levels that provoke my competitive drive. That's not a good thing when my goal is to unwind. And anyway, I don't need to belong to a yacht club in order to enjoy some cocktails and chase tail. If you still want to run in yachting circles, you would do well to befriend generous chaps who own yachts and love to party. Why buy the yacht when you can get the Veuve Clicquot and girls for free?