Saturday, May 19, 2012

Sailing

No, it wasn't even remotely close to a three-hour tour. We didn't end up stranded. In fact, the whole trip was rather boring in a lazy, warm, and comfortable way.

And--as it turns out--you don't actually need a storybook ending to spend an enjoyable afternoon on a lake. Not that storybook endings aren't awesome. Everyone I know would give their front incisors to be marooned on a desert island in some remote jurisdiction with periodic hurricanes and copious quantities of coconut crabs.

(If, at this point, all you can think about is the redundancy of the phrase 'front incisors', consider joining the dental profession.)

There's something to be said for being content with life as it is. Not content in the sense of status quo, but content in the sense that you're used to having a picnic in the park without the earth swallowing you whole and being held captive by the Grand Viceroy of the Underworld, GVU for short.

Okay, maybe I do mean status quo. If random encounters with the GVU is the status quo in your life, I'm sorry.

Most storyboard characters take this sort of misadventure more or less calmly, or at least with a certain resignation. I--on the other hand--would probably just scream and die of cardiac arrest.

Usually, by the fifth consecutive kidnapping by orcs, you'll see the lead characters shoot an expression that says "really??". Maybe raise an eyelash or two. That's about it. They're made of sterner stuff than I.

At one point in my life, I set out to understand why we're drawn to stories about people with extraordinarily bad luck. One theory is that these sorts of people are gifted weighted luck dice by the GVU. I was forced to abandon this theory through lack of evidence and spontaneous seismic rumblings.

Eventually, I came to the conclusion that we're just stupidly happy when epically bad stuff happens to strangers we don't know, and doesn't happen to us. This is probably wrong, but until I overcome this seed of iniquity in myself, I'll continue to laugh with self-evident glee every time the Pittsburgh Steelers lose a game.

And... not to pass off the morality of this discovery on genetics, but I suspect there's a self-preservation gene involved as well. Suffice it to say, 88° F weather on a tranquil lake with a slight tailwind? I'll take it.

Until next time,
- Daniel


P.S. Thanks to the Engels for providing the vessel and taking on an unlikely non-paying passenger.

1 comment:

  1. And I always though the point of reading disaster stories was to learn from the 'role models' in them. Sigh. (Though I suppose it's difficult to apply lessons about being kidnapped by orcs if you've never managed to find one--wait, I meant if you've been able to avoid them so far.)

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