I am starting my blogging career with a humiliating story. I guess that is what this trip is all about …
Without access to cell phones, the primary means of communicating with other boats and people is through VHF radio. The problem is there is a rigid protocol to hailing and talking to other boats; not to mention that everyone (EVERYONE!) can hear you. So with that background …
Out being friendly on our first Saturday night we made some new friends at Willie T’s (a bar on a pirate ship in the middle of the water…no joke!) When it came time to say goodbye—I’ll call her “Jane”—we agreed we would keep in touch by radio. One problem: I have never used the radio.
The next day I wasn’t man enough to make the call so Dirkes and I took our tender, “Roni” (good naming job Dirkes), over to her boat. Everything is good. The next day I had to grow up. Quickly.
It took me the better half of the day going through all the best/worst case scenarios (mostly worst case) before I finally mustered up the courage to call “Jane”. To say the call went worse than a nightmare is an understatement. Not only did I not have the proper radio etiquette, but “Jane” was part of a 7 person crew on a humongous mega-yacht. Calling and speaking to her alone wasn’t an option—I had to talk to whoever was monitoring the radio. I went down in flames and everyone in the BVIs could hear me.
Me: “’Mega-Yacht’, ‘Mega-Yacht’ this is Peggy Sue.” That was easy! Then everything went disastrously wrong. The Captain—might as well read dad—answered. (When is the last time you had to talk to dad when calling a girl?)
Captain: “Peggy Sue this is ‘Mega-Yacht’.”
Now after he says this I am supposed to redirect the call to a different channel, but there are only certain channels you can use.
Me: “Hey. This is Adam. I am looking for ‘Jane’. Uh, switch to 7-9. Over.”
Me: “Uh I mean 6-9 …”
Me: “Um, over.” Oh man.
Radio silence.
Through all this Dirkes is looking up at me through the companionway dying in laughter. Now I’m sweating because I don’t know if “Jane” is going to call back on 16, 69, 79, or at all. Fortunately Peggy Sue has two radios so Dirkes monitored 16 and I monitored 69. After five, very painful, minutes we heard a women’s voice on channel 16.
First Steward (read mom): “Peggy Sue this is ‘Mega-Yacht’”
Me: “Uh hi. I am trying to get hold of ‘Jane’”
Me: “…Over.”
First Steward: “Ok hold on.”
After what seemed to be another eternity, she finally calls.
Me: “Hey. What’s up? Over.”
Jane: “Nothing. What are you doing?”
Me: “Uh, not much. Over.”
Now, despite the pain, we are talking and making plans. Everything is awkward, but going well or so I thought…
Me: “Ok cool. You want to meet at Pirates in 30 minutes? Over.”
Jane: “30 Minutes? Sure.”
Me: “Ok. Over.”
Me: “Great. Over.” All of a sudden I realize that I am ending every sentence with “over” and for some strange reason she isn’t. That’s what they do on TV so I’m sticking to it.
Me: “I’ll see you in 30. Over.”
Me: “Bye. Over.”
Jane: “Bye.”
By this time Dirkes is nearly in tears. So am I but not the good kind. The 8th grade kind when the call to your crush goes horribly, horribly, horribly wrong. To add insult to injury, after our call ended someone (remember everyone—the captain, the crew, everyone within 20 miles—can listen) giggled over the radio. They actually went to the trouble of pushing the little button on the radio and laugh! Not good.
I was later told by “mom” that I should never ever say “over” again. More salt in the wounds …
Awkward at best, downright embarrassing at worst, but in the end everything worked out. We went on a hike and saw some amazing views including this nice aerial view of our new friends on the mega-yacht (top center) and Peggy Sue (second down from mega-yacht; smallest sailboat in the picture).
Boat drinks! Over.
Check starving off the list of dangers on this little adventure. We caught our first conch (they are fast little snails). We cleaned it. And WE ATE IT! We are true seadogs now! 5 minutes from the sea and into our bellies (maybe more like 30)… It took us awhile to figure out how to get the slippery sucker out of its shell. A messy operation but once all was said and done it was mmm mmm good! Fresh conch salad.
