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IT’S CRAZY HOW HARD IT CAN BE to unplug from the internet for a vacation and even crazier how hard it is to jump back into the stream afterwards. We’re two days into our first Caribbean sailing trip and finally I’ve let go of posting blogs and tweeting. I have no choice, the internet service we paid for plain doesn’t work.
By the time we moor late afternoon of day two I’m feeling horribly guilty for leaving my readers stranded so I commandeer the dinghy over to a promising beach bar in search of Happy Hour. Perhaps this will ease my internet DTs… Two rum soaked Pain Killers later (I highly recommend this local concoction) I am feeling jusht coconutty and the evil guilt has liquified into a puddle like the condensation dripping down my plastic glass.Image may be NSFW.
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Marveling at the reddening sunset clouds I pull out my cell phone to take a snapshot and notice that Wifi is available and free at this Happiest of Hours. Ignoring the spectacular view, the fascinating people watching and even Blue Eyes, my Captain in Crime, I dive headlong into my dastardly device. Half an hour goes by, happy hour is finito, the sun has set and I have nothing to show for it. Not even a snapshot.
Something beautiful has passed me by because my mind is not yet on vacation. Caribbean Wifi simply does not tweet and forget about posting a Friday Funny.
Scary to think how frequently I connect to the internet on an hourly basis. God forbid my phone should be misplaced. I literally panic when I can’t find the bloody thing at home, running frantically from room to room screeching “Where’s my phone?!” Pathetic.
“To hell with the internet!” I now silently decide to be fully present in our sailing adventure.
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While sailing we gleefully take turns being at the helm to practice our newly learned Captain skills. Did you know that whomever is at the helm is in complete charge? Naturally I take great pleasure in mercilessly bossing the crew around, aka Blue Eyes.
“Arrh, Matey, could you please get my hat, no not that one, the one that’s in the very back of the stern berth.” Little does my first mate know I’ve hidden the sombrero in question so well he will surely become seasick rooting around for it… Aahh, life’s little pleasure.
When we suddenly find ourselves racing away from a sudden storm that is bearing rapidly down upon us I happen to be at the helm and do not ask my first mate for anything from down below. These islands are littered with shipwrecks. One hundred and fifty and counting. I am white knuckling it through huge waves and blasting near gale gusts from behind. It is all I can do to maneuver the boat and my terrified self is very thankful Blue Eyes did not take the ‘hat trick’ too personally. Right now I need him for survival.
Oh, I know he’ll get me back.
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As the ship’s bow lurches sickeningly down another broadside wave a sailboat slips by tacking in the opposite direction. I squint to confirm it is not a mirage, the crew is comprised of six perfectly tanned, Speedo clad bucky hunks! The cutest one is dangling precariously by one hand off the stern pulpit railing and is holding a video cam in the other as he tapes us in passing.
Um… ahoy?
Enjoying more delicious seaside Pain Killers later that eve on yet another island we carry on about the day’s adventure like a couple of bragging sailors. The sunset is magnificent and my phone makes itself useful by taking beautiful snapshots. I do not miss the internet one teeny bit.
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There’s just nothing like plunging overboard into obscenely aqua waters for a snorkel… without your cell phone in your hand.
Which makes me wonder. How much am I missing back home with my nose buried in the internet?
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Esmée Saint James