Pirates of the Coronado Islands
The sea wants me. Back.
Yesterday I asked Angie what she had planned for the weekend, and she told me all excited "Going sailing tomorrow!!" My eyes were wide open with double her excitement. "Do you want to come with us?" she asked. I think I answered half-screaming: "blleyyeaoohh!" before i could even think about it.
Just 5 days ago I was invited to Rock The Boat off the coast of San Diego. I went on a 24-hour trip and loved 23 hours and 47 minutes of it. The other 13 minutes I really liked.
I've known for a long time that Ken is a sailing fanatic, so I wasn't at all surprised that as soon as we extended an invitation to him he was already packing his bag. Early in the morning, Angie, Chris, John, Ken and I put up the sails of our adventure vessel and embarked on yet another trip away from the shore. 
The relaxing sounds of the splashing water, and the hypnotic side-to-side rocking of the boat are perfectly augmented by some silly humor, mostly courtesy of funny-mouth Chris. Eight minutes quickly stretch into 8 hours, and as we make our 360-degree turn around the Coronado Islands, we find ourselves in boiling water and playful winds. Chris tries to calm the jittery nervous boat, but quickly loses control. Holding on to the helm, he says "Somebody tell me what to do!" At that point, we all knew we were in good solid hands. Our captain gave us so much confidence, that even though the flatbed of our boat was cruising tilted at an 80-degree angle, we felt safe and relaxed.
Panic.
Swing. Splash. Slam.
The unfriendly sea is so exciting. Adrenaline is rushing through me. Angie thinks we're dying; I think we're being re-born. We're fighting winds and water. The boat and I are both rocking to Led Zeppelin's "Immigrant Song" in our heads. A perfect soundtrack for this adventure:
From the midnight sun where the hot springs blow.
The hammer of the gods will drive our ships to new lands,
To fight the horde, singing and crying: Valhalla, I am coming!
We take control of the restless beast that is our boat and now we're smooth-sailing North, locked on steady course, galloping towards San Diego Bay. A stunning sunset rewards our efforts and relaxes us. We're back to where we started from 13 hours ago, but feeling 13 hours younger and 60 miles closer to some truth.
Would I go sailing again tomorrow? Name the place and time.
Krassy Can Listen To It: "Immigrant Song" by 
