Here I am doing the shower dance again. Sort of a rain dance ... but instead of boundless precipitation from the sky, it’s begging for a shower: with steamy hot water and decent pressure; typically in the sterile, tiled confines of a marina or yacht club locker room which is either a) unheated in the frosty winter or b) dank and steamy in a tropical summer clime or even c) both of the above; done naked, jiggling alongside a vinyl shower curtain of questionable cleanliness; and right about the time you realize you forget shampoo. (But not to worry, I dug up some dish soap). Nothing is worse than standing naked in a locker room, staring at a spigot of cold water gurgling from the showerhead or needle-fine shards of water stingily misting out, when what you need is a really good, hot soaking.
Today’s gig was busy but a fun one: about five hours on the water, preceded and followed by several-many hours downloading, editing and FTP’ing pix; sending specific pix of specific teams to specific media; taking more pix of other competitors – in this case with JJ Fetter, the Olympic medalist who came to give a fun and sometimes irreverent talk on “Path to the Podium” (“telephone-pole sized masts” and “Finn sailors are only good for helping take a boat off the roof of your van”) plus all the other work I am supposed to be doing at this time.
My duties went on and on, until one of the guys at the club chased me out of the back office to my boat (mi casa for the week, a very nice Tartan 35 which is super-roomy as far as camping out on someone’s boat goes) with a bribe of two plastic cups of wine. I worked on deck as the sun painted Newport Harbor angelic colors, then dragged my work (and two cups of wine) below. It was then I decided a blistering potent shower was due, before it got too dark and I’d have to grope my way back onto the boat. And it was lovely. Steaming hot from the get-go, good water pressure, and yes I even found some sort of soap to use.
Now, after a long and head-banging-inducing teleconf and now I’m going to bed, and will climb into my sleeping bag in the forepeak of the boat, with the companionway and a few other hatches open which keeps it cool, but airy – still shy of allllll my work, stories, deadlines, press releases, photo edits. Oh but how glamorous it is!
