Less a pirate of the Caribbean, more a casualty of the Pacific

So, I went sailing today!

Only by sailing, I mean that I dressed really cute and preppy only to spend two hours of the afternoon lying in the fetal position on the edge of the boat, trying not to throw up from sea sickness. Gosh, I'm fun! What are you doing next weekend? Let's hang out!

This was actually one of the best weekends I've had in a long time, and not just because I purged more calories than I consumed. (Yay, bathing suit season!) My friend Miya came to town this weekend for work, but also with the prospect of moving here when her lease is up in November. She's been thinking about moving to LA for a long time, but circumstances have kept her in New York.

When I met up with her last night, I immediately recognized her energy and excitement for the city as my own, a year and two ago, when all I needed was a night out among palm trees to feel like I had the world at my fingertips. Her energy was contagious, and of course because there was so much energy in the air, we ended up running into a third person from our high school at the restaurant - one neither of us have seen since we all lived in NYC together a few years ago. Karma, coincidence, Mercury in retrograde, perhaps, but it was just one of those nights when everything seems to want to fall into place and we were more than happy to let it.

Miya's business partner is a member of a sailing club in Marina Del Rey, and suggested that would be a nice activity for today. I haven't been on a boat in years and couldn't think of a better way to spend the day. I was picturing a quaint little sail boat on the water; however we ended up in a 35-foot, two-bedroom, fully-stocked lifestyle. It was beautiful and huge - unlike anything I've ever been on.

I was fine as we navigated out of the Marina, into the Pacific along the Venice and Santa Monica beaches. As the water became choppy I grew even more excited - this was a real adventure! And you know what an adventure calls for? Beer! I headed downstairs to get our second round, and the second I hit the below-sea level, the first wave of nausea crashed over me harder than any actual waves could have. I came back up the steps and tried to shake it off. Well, not literally shake it off. I sat very still and looked at the horizon and concentrated real hard on not throwing up all over this six million dollar boat. I knew that if I needed to throw up I should face downwind, but crossing over to the starboard side just seemed too ambitious for the time being.

When the feeling didn't get any better, I decided to swallow my pride and just see what the other side of the ship felt like; that's when I discovered that maybe all I needed was to just lay down for a bit. I found that if I lay alongside the edge of the boat with my face nearly in the water and my legs wrapped under me in a little fetal ball, things were actually peaceful. Instead of feeling like my insides were being put through the Cuisinart, I actually felt as calm and serene as a baby being rocked to sleep in the warmth of the late afternoon sun. And as long as I didn't open my eyes, I could imagine that I actually was that baby, and started feeling better.

Eventually, around the time my legs started falling asleep, I was able to upgrade to the cushioned seats above so I could actually stretch out and not hold on to the masthead rope for my life.

Now that's what I call sailing.

Hey, um, Johnny Depp, I'm available for that third movie. Call me!?