On memorial day, my friend Ariel planned a "man's weekend sailing trip" to Port Jefferson, New York from New Haven, CT on his 27ft sail boat. During this trip, I was thoroughly sunburned, absolutely punished with alcohol and I quite nearly broke my foot jumping off a fence carrying pizza and calzones back to the launch.
Yeah, really it was the best time ever!
Ariel started the journey by motoring his boat out of New Haven harbor and then ran up a single tack and gave me the wheel. He told me to aim for the smokestacks on the other side of long island sound and to avoid running over any lobster pots along the way (which there were a lot of, btw). The wind was good and we held a steady 7.2 knots almost all the way there, but the sea was choppy and currents were 'bitchy' and the two hour trip was a pretty nerve wracking affair for me since that was the first time I've ever sailed a boat in my life.
The trip was supposed to be 'just the guys', but they dropped out due to family or work considerations or whatever, so Ariel's girlfriend Hannah came along and Shannon was invited last minute as well. About thirty minutes into the sailing, both the girls were out like lights in the cabin and snoring away.
When we reached harbor, we called the launch and walked into town. Port Jeff is 'bizarro' New Haven. They have the same bars and shops but they are smaller and quainter and the people talk a little funny there. We immediately went to one of Ariels favorite bars (kinda like Rudies, but for grown-ups) and had an amazing selection of New England bar food which included wings, mussels, shrimp and burgers.
Somehow the combination of sun and waves made us all a bit more susceptible to alcohol and the modest few drinks we had felt like a lot more.
After that, we mostly hung out on the boat and relaxed but a late night urge for pizza drove me and Ariel back to dry land. After 9PM, he gates of the harbor are locked (to protect us or the town?), so we had to climb the fence to get to the pizza. Getting in worked out pretty well. However, when we were coming back (carrying several boxes of Italian pizza goodness) I somehow misjudged the landing and really injured my right ankle. I'm blaming my ever-so-fashionable Converse high-tops for the injury.
Funny to think Converse high-tops were the high-end-technology shoe for basketball players only 30 years ago. Today, they're nothing but a health hazzard in any sport except perhaps swing dancing. I'm still gimping around a bit and it's been three weeks already. I think another week and I'll be in good shape and back to doing some physical activity.