This story begins the first night of our trip to the San Juan Islands. One could say it started with the eight percent beers or maybe the stiff sundowner cocktails celebrating our successful crossing of the Strait of Juan de Fuca. Or, one might say this story started many years ago, from decades of repressed exasperation towards the pure nature of a single human’s boisterous personality. (That incredible person, of course, being me.) Oh yes, perhaps that is the true origin of this tale.

Whatever it was that brought this all to a head, the feeling at the beginning of the evening was one of joy and excitement. We had left behind the daunting daily reminders of a worldwide pandemic and were celebrating the start of a weeklong sailing trip with friends (some of whom, might even call each other family). We were all aboard our respective boats, cruising the picturesque and uninhabited islands sprinkled throughout the Salish Sea on the Washington-Canadian border.

With Lilypad being a CHB sundeck model, the back deck is large enough to have a full-blown floating fiesta. As our friends from Cloudbuster, Capt’n Blu and Grace bobbed along with us aboard Lilypad that first night in Eagle Harbor, we were all in high spirits living life on the high seas. We turned up the music, lit the propane fire pit and drank the fore mentioned eight percent beers and sundowners.

I think most would agree the decibel level was consistent with that of any good-natured party. But perhaps it was just one notch of jubilation above one sister’s degree of tolerance. I wouldn’t have thought much of it – I, too, would have considered it “an accident” – but the number of times my sister has told me to “quiet down” or shushed me because “we’re in public” is too great to count.

I think what happened that night on Lilypad was not some mere accident; not an inadvertent flip of the wrist or slight of the hand. It was – without a doubt – intentional. Oh, she can say she didn’t mean to, but I know deep down this was deliberate, calculated and I dare say premeditated! That’s right! She just couldn’t take my delightfully energetic personality any longer. She grabbed my phone, acting as if she simply wanted to turn the music down a smidge, and then threw it directly over her right shoulder. I was standing beside her and could tell she knew I might be able to catch it. With incredible skill, she jostled her sunglasses off the top of her head so I would reach for them rather than my phone. And I fell for it! Just as I reached for her sunglasses… 

KER-PLUNK!

We peered over the edge of Lilypad’s party pad, just in time to watch my phone disappear into the icy waters of the Pacific Northwest. “Shit…” she said. You got that right!