Shark Blood

To order such a concoction would usually mean one of two things, a 21-year-old on Spring Break or an adult American tourist in Cabo. I’m going to profess that while I fall into the second category – I was in Cabo, and yes, I couldn’t resist ordering a drink as obnoxious as a “Shark Blood Margarita” from a marina-side patio with English-translated menus, I think my moment of misjudgement had more to do with the subconscious than with a sudden desire to act like the kind of girl who could strut around in a cowboy hat/bikini combo when not ordering cheap tequila with food coloring.

After a long week of work, Kristi, Britta and I sat on the Cabo beach all day in front of a bar called “The Office,” surrounded by barefoot Mexicans in flowy white things and staring out at the various watersports in-between vendor avoidance naps. If there’s one thing that makes you think of Shark Blood, my friends, it’s young girls on Banana boats. So really, I couldn’t order another Pacifico (delightfully sans preservatives) when something emulating Jaws was available, and consequently one of the most disgusting drinks I have tried this side of a Harvey Wallbanger.

Until the selfish conservatives one day decide that I also have the right to live and enjoy my life, I will most likely never know this from experience, but Kristi appropriately compared the Reunion Voyage to a wedding reception. Hordes of people from all different factions and years of your life come pummeling at you, and while you would love nothing more than to spend hours, even days catching up with every single one of them, the nature of the beast permits you to do nothing more than relegate the intimacies of lifelong friendship to a quick, small-talkish catch-up over a bowl of nemos and a Tiger if you’re lucky. Thankfully, since it was the wonderment of being open that brought us all together in the first place, the MV Explorer is one of the few places I have found where people are understanding and impressively flexible. “Always working in that AV booth,” they all said with a smile. Whether you’ve sailed with me for 10 days around the Caribbean or 100 around the world, it’s my home away from home. Err. Actually, it’s now my only home.