There is no greater loss of control than sitting on the bow of a boat, in the middle of the ocean. Someone else is driving. This is tough for you in a car, but even more so on a boat, because you don’t know how to drive a boat. You’re not nautical, and unsure of how this thing even works, like scientifically.
There are no sails but it does have a motor, and in an attempt to gain a sense of authority, you decide to give it a name. Let’s call it a yacht. A small one. Something about floating on top of water feels unnatural and impossible. The ocean is unpredictable. We have no clue what’s down there! The sky is mercurial, much moodier out here than the sunny day you left behind in Marina Del Rey. You have no life jacket on and can’t really swim. Unless, the doggy paddle counts.
Venice pier is just up ahead. A bunch of men stand at the railing, waving like crazy. Your friend’s brother yells from somewhere behind you, “Holly, it looks like you’ve got some fans! Wave back!”
“I don’t think th…
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