nautical gal

That’s right, it’s offical.  I can operate a boat.  Legally.
Be scared.  Cause I’m still not sure how to even turn the dang thing on.
As you may have guessed from my utterly boring cries-for-entertainment tweets on Saturday, Adam and I finally gave up a Saturday to go get our boating licenses.  Since his family has a boat.  And we spend all summer on it.  Glorious.
The class?  Not so glorious.  Think driver’s ed in slooooow motion.  And then cry tears of joy that you only have to take it once in your entire life.
Unless you were born before 1982.  Then you are apparently just born with nautical traffic laws ingrained in your mind.  Right.
But I did it, learned all the lights, sounds and that waving your hands furiously indicates you are either spazing out or in danger.  And while I could go on and on about how utterly bored I was, I feel 100% better knowing that in a pinch, I might be able to get the boat back to shore safely.  Even if we do end up beached and have to swim the last mile.
I earned this baby.  Kind of badass.  Although not quite on the level of helicopter license.  Now that, that would be badass.

1 comment
  1. My roommate bought a groupon for helicopter lessons and then called it a day when she started the 3 hours of studying before she could even take the class to find out if she could get in the pilots seat. Way too complicated.

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