Friday, 2 September 2011

Red wine drowning

photo: Henrik Nor-Hansen
Feeling blue and alone I opened a bottle of red. Nina was in Boston. I read for a while, but lost my concentration somewhat and started to listen in on the radio.

I was invited to a dock party, and being at anchor I could keep an eye on people gathering on the dock. I felt uneasy and slightly nervous at the prospect of meeting lots of strangers.

It was getting dark. I could hardly see the figures ashore. If I was ever to join the party then this was the time. Besides, I was out of wine.

San Francisco had a rather cold spring in 2010, and I dressed up in a huge woolly sweater. Then I slid carefully down in our little inflatable dinghy. I rowed across the channel with my eyes on Bika.

What happened was that I rowed towards the dock and grabbed enthusiastically for a mooring that suddenly passed above me. Being slightly drunk I flipped the dinghy. Cold water rushed in. I soon realized that I was too heavy to drag myself up at the dock.

I was treading water behind an enormous motor yacht, with one hand on the slippery dinghy. But I couldn't see anyone. Being unable to get any help was a mixed blessing. At least I was spared the embarressment.

This is how I'll drown, I thought. Trivial and stupid. It even seemed vaguely funny.

But the water was damn cold and I needed to do something. I managed to ease slowly up at the dinghy's bottom, letting water pass from the heavy clothing. Then I could reach the dock. I overturned the dinghy and suddenly felt I could get away with this.

Rowing back to Bika I could see the party in the warm yellow light, moving around in the luxurious motor yacht, drinks in hand.

photo: Henrik Nor-Hansen
Nina once mentioned I'm writing a bit too much about alcohol. Unsure of the meaning I fenced it off. Later I've come to the conclusion that writing is exorcism.