You’re free to express yourself…until you express yourself

It was a beautiful day for sailing. We cast off bright and early transiting the Lake Worth Inlet with only a few sport-fishing boats for company. Given the good weather, we were caught off-guard halfway through the channel when the seas suddenly turned rough with six-foot waves running straight at us.

I’ve become quite comfortable riding the swells when I’m at the helm. My favorite stance is to straddle the cockpit with one foot on the port seat and one on the starboard seat, staying flexible, anticipating and moving with the twisting rise and falls. I love that it’s physical and thinking of it as a version of yoga at sea makes the experience that much better.

My pleasure in the task at hand was broken by crashing sounds below deck and the realization that things weren’t completely secure. Our new, and thankfully stainless steel, French press coffee pot and its contents had traveled the breadth of the galley spilling its contents in the process. A few open portholes had had their screens pushed in and salt-water soaked part of the salon. It was yet another thing in the long list of lessons we knew, but clearly needed a reminder of: no matter the weather never wait until you’re underway to finish battening things down!

About a mile out, after clearing the inlet, the seas calmed and we hoisted the sails. Mike went below to work and I was enjoying how effortlessly Aleta was racing along through the beautiful turquoise-green waters. Watching the behemoth mansions of Palm Beach on the shore I remembered we’d pass Mar-a-Largo before long. Thinking of Mr. T shattered my contentment of the moment. I searched on my phone to see how close we were and chuckled when the first thing that popped up was it’s one-and-a-half star rating on Yelp, with the text of the multitude of reviews conspicuously faded to make them difficult to read.

Five minutes later Mar-a-Largo’s distinctive coral tower and massive American flag were in view. As we sailed past (at the required off-shore distance) I chose to express my feelings with a couple of middle finger salutes. A far cry from participating in last year’s Women’s March on Washington, but a succinct message that felt cathartic as I passed by.

I quickly re-focused and was again happily sailing in the glorious sunshine. 20 minutes later, just off Boynton Inlet, a yellow powerboat seemed to appear out of nowhere from the direction of the shore. For a few moments I thought it must be a SeaTow boat racing to an emergency, it was the same size and design. The boat aggressively speeded up to cross my bow closely and forced me to veer off and slow down. It then quickly circled behind us and stopped completely.

Despite its having the right of way, I was shaken by it’s maneuvering given he could have easily gone behind us. Cursing under my breath I looked back over my right shoulder and was stunned to see the driver focusing a camera with a big lens on me. He continued to shoot as I resumed course and called down to Mike. We agreed this must be our tax dollars at work, or the paparazzi of the alt right media. Am I now in a huge database of potential threats? Besides, does a proffered middle finger actually threaten anyone anymore?

If it was our government, then it really needs a life. If it was a Trumpy-stooge, then he really needs enlightenment. Meanwhile, much more important issues were at stake: I had a boat to sail and a port to reach before dark. With that we left the small man with his big lens in our wake.

More adventures:

Shake ’em on Down Run for Salvation Aleta and the ICW: A “Hystorical” Rant Aleta: Drag Queen