When I was a youngster, I was IN LOVE with Christopher Cross.
I imagined, as I listened to “Sailing” and “Ride Like The Wind” that I would be immeasurably rich by now, wearing flowing white linen pants and sundresses, draped in gold, driving through some sort of weaving tropical highway with the wind teasing my Crystal Gayle-length hair into a knot of bliss. No doubt I was speeding towards my joint wedding with Mr. Cross and Michael Jackson, who was also, at that time, the man of my dreams. In reality I’m a 4’11” party writer/photojournalist/social media gangster owning not a stitch of linen, unable to fit into my favorite seersucker pants, I’m carless, and my joint wedding more realistically looks like it would be with the boy and David Cross. And quite frankly, I’m thinking that’s a better ending. I did find myself sailing last night with what may or may not have been a cluster of singles with their own ideas of the future. Let’s mix up the chronology, why don’t we I approached North Cover Marina in a slimy disaster of sweat. I’m talking Lake Michigan-sized pools of sweat that were just cascading from my summery dress (that I later discovered was perfect wind molestation material — so, you’re welcome for the show). Before I spotted the boat, I could see the masts (or something) of other sailboats tipping and jerking wildly in the harbor. My stomach heaved and warbled up at me, “You are NOT going on that boat.” The boat in question was The Shearwater, a beauty of a boat, not so much resting at the dock. The fact that one of the deckhands said “wait ’til it comes back” as I leapt aboard the violently shifting boat didn’t quell my squall of nerves (as I write this, I still feel like I’m on the water). I was also in heels, which was stupid, and I eyed the barriers to sea entry suspiciously. It was true, what the captain said though – once we hit the water it was much smoother. I’ll be gentle with naming, because I know some people are sheepish about going to singles events, but like I said, no shame, people, no shame! Own it! Also, some were attending as frequenters of other green Drinks activities. However, my friends, the name of the event was “Single Mingle” so you can only hide for so long. Some characters from this eclectic bunch were Sylvia from Germany, who works in sales in publishing and has a fabulous idea for a travel business, Steve who “used to be employed in finance” and should investigate a career in motivational party hosting — so gregarious and full of relatable stories and fun unemployed insights. We agreed that really, August is such a silly month to look for a job anyway — everyone’s either in The Hamptons or too flippin’ hot to give a hoot. The Shearwater took us by the beautiful and not-so-single Statue of Liberty, we fought some pirates, and we swung past the lit Brooklyn Bridge — leaping through the churning Hudson all the while. I climbed up to the bowsprit and perched precariously at the tip as one wave after another made me think the bowsprit was going to scoop at the water itself, rendering me a dating casualty. It was at this point that a guest asked if I wanted him to take my picture. Oh yes, of all the times I’m going to let an energetic stranger take control of my professional camera, it’s definitely going to be while we’re pummeled by waves on a quickly traveling sailboat. When we docked and I departed, I ran into a male guest who shall remain nameless to protect his stomach lining. He looked a little green around the gills and admitted that “the trip was a little unnerving for me.” “Oh really” I questioned him, sort of recalling a “hhraawwwwwp!” noise behind me at one point. He admitted to “feeding the fish,” as would say. Poor guy. Anyway, it was a great experience from the coverage side, and based on the thrum of conversation, I’d say the guests had a great time, too. The only thing unnerving to me was that when you’re on a boat, you’re captive. So if you’re trying to end a convo that’s going nowhere, you can’t escape. The other unnerving thing is that my head is so swimmy today. I’m sitting at my desk feeling like I’m swaying in my seat, but I’m not. Or am I