“In order to be old and wise, you must first be young and stupid”
- Unknown
There we were, a group of 10 eager young men in the middle of the sea on a large boat mid-Saraya season. It was late evening, and the sun had handed over night duties to a full moon and gone home to get some shuteye. The bright glare of the excited moon cast a floodlight over the open water, a myriad of tiny reflections bouncing and skipping across the surface as small waves chased each other. It was a beautiful night, some may call it perfect.
The problem with Sarayas are that they are extremely strong unpredictable winds that come out of nowhere, and last as long as they like. Before we left I checked the weather, and there were warnings of high winds. It seemed the weatherman was wrong again.
We were still close to the shore; just a few nautical miles and the plan was to stay there all night and eventually get back around 10pm. As some of us hung around on the deck cracking jokes, the rest took their chances and dove from the top level into the black sea. I’ve seen enough shark movies to stay away from a night swim but apparently, they did not. Someone casually asked them why they weren’t afraid of the night sea which triggered a frenzy; they all came crashing and panting back onto the boat to escape the sharks, killer dolphins, and assorted zombies. I felt it was time to move. A quick vote (since the weatherman didn’t know what he was talking about) and an hour’s drive took us to Jarada island; a sandbar in the middle of the sea that only appears during low tide. A mystical place my grandfather used to go to, and at night tiny oceanic animals glow phosphorous green when you disturb the water. As we moved through the water we were surrounded by a light green halo in the sparkling water. On the sand bank we barbecued a juicy selection of meats and chops and dipped our legs in the cool water. After a few hours of banter and hanging out on the shore we decided to finally head back. Everyone was onboard, and I was near the engines, helping pull the back anchor up when I felt a strong gust of air against my body. “Anybody feel that?” I asked. “Nope, feel what?” Answered the captain from above.
As soon as he spoke a terrific blast of wind from the North started throwing towels off the deck and made it hard to speak or hear. I pulled myself back up without lifting the anchor as we all instinctively scuttled into the cabin. We looked at each other in disbelief and then immediately looked outside through the windows. The calm happy sea had turned into a raging angry creature. Dark clouds covered the happy moon, and the tiny cute waves were now jagged six footers pounding on the side. It seemed we were stuck for the night. As the boat rocked from side to side, we instinctively took our positions. Those who wanted to attempt sleep went into the bedrooms, and the rest of us settled around the small kitchen table next to the fridge and oven and broke out food, drinks, and a pack of cards. Luckily, we had a carton of cigarettes, so it seemed we could last the night. The only question was: How long would this storm last?
As the tiny yellow light burnt above us, the captain, deckhand, and a few others sprawled in the living area snored in the dark. We were the only existence in the unbelievable hell that was outside. A tiny glimmer of existence in a raging soul-sucking dark sea. As the wind scowled and cursed, and the waves mercilessly beat up the boat we laughed and played through the night. The boat kept rocking, but we were too busy with the cards and jokes. A true bubble of happiness. Finally, the sun came out and broke up the party. As we groggily clambered to the deck we were greeted by a school of dolphins. A few adults and a couple of babies curiously peeked at us as they came up to breathe. A pink sky painted by a madman with the widest of strokes greeted us. It seemed we were gonna be okay after all. Thank God, we were almost out of cigarettes.