Moment of Impact
August 3, 2011
What started with enthusiasm a few hours before is now a bit like trying to finish off the last of a dozen warm doughnuts in one sitting. You have gazed at the stars and stared at the fleeting trails of meteors. You have munched way too many peanuts, string cheese, and a couple of sandwiches and perhaps too many cups of coffee. You have sung that ear worm so many times that you get confused about how the words actually go. Even the Star Spangled Banner starts to be difficult to remember. How many times have you fiddled with the radar or chart plotter? The dark was really dark this night, but the glow of the instruments and that stern nav light have been irritating yet the whole experience is something out of the book of joy. The sea monsters have left you alone to enjoy the bow wave luminescence and the sound of the boat as she plunges and rises on the swell. In the last few hours, you have diagnosed and resolved many of the world’s problems if only “they” would listen. That bug bite from the afternoon watch is still itching. You can hear your mate below in way-too-deep sleep. You know this because the mate has gone past snoring into a very deep breathing which marks an envious state. The hands on the ship’s clock have almost stopped and you struggle to keep both eyes open. Slapping yourself simply does not work no matter how many different ways you have invented. How many times can you tweak the autopilot compass to make it jive with the binnacle compass? The sounds of the boat other than the sea are all cataloged into one of the following: normal, something new not of significance, something to be checked and/or to be monitored. Thank goodness there were no “WHAT WAS THATs” on this watch. Just as the micron thin pink line appears on the horizon, you think to yourself: I’m gonna make it. Success comes when you decide not to awake the off watch a bit early. Be a martyr and let them sleep a bit longer, perhaps beyond six bells. What? Are you nuts? The rules are the rules and surely they know to get the heck up at least five minutes before their watch. Ok, it is time to start making some noise to chisel the mate out of that deep sleep. Start lightly so it does not seem too obvious. This new plan, thought shallow in scope, gives some relief to the drowsiness. Just as you start to thump, bump, and scratch, the mate calls from below: “How about some breakfast?” All that planning and you were foiled. “You are relieved. I have the helm.” Now what? Dufus, hit the rack! Down the companionway and past the saloon table is the destination. One last check with the on watch and you are there. You wiggle past the lee cloth and finally it happens. The moment of impact happens when the noggin lands in that warm, fluffy pillow. You ignore the fact that it happens to be just under that dripping portlight because sleep just favored you with unconsciousness.