Sideshow Ally

There we were, five wanderers staring at a remarkably tiny yacht floating on the Ionian Sea. After spending a night on a ferry from Italy, we found ourselves in Plataria, a spec on the coast of Thesprotia, Greece. The sun was up, the economy was down, and we were ready to take our minimal sailing knowledge out to sea. The two men of the party – 22-year-olds Mike and Charles – were ready to go, loading the boat with an acoustic guitar they had procured in Spain. Having the least amount of sailing experience, I was sent to hunt down supplies, and was off to one of the four shops that were close by.

On my return, with bags full of bread and ouzo, I discovered that the other girls had covered the boat in leaves and branches they had discovered in the area, nicknaming our tiny home for the next few days The Jungle Boat. This was clearly going to be one hell of a boat ride.

We slept on the boat that night, the stagnant cabin air forcing us to stay above deck as long as our eyes would stay open. Mike and Charles played bad renditions of Red Hot Chilli Peppers and Oasis, and I spent the time discovering who these strangers were. The world was silent around us.

We set sail to clear skies. Barely clothed, we allowed the orange sun to keep us warm and the salty air to push us forward. The wind became strong and small pellets of water begun to sting our faces. In no time, our home was at tipping point, preparing to toss us into the monstrous sea that had moments ago sparkled with invite. Thrust into action, we grabbed at ropes and sails franticly, fighting against the harsh wind and rain that slapped our skin. Four of us dangled off the boat in attempt to balance it while Mike motored us forward. With no land in sight, all we could do was grab a rope and hold on.

The storm continued. Mike’s knuckles were white as he clung tightly against the metal wheel; his feet had turned a deathly shade of blue. The leaves that had been strung so carefree across the yacht were fast being appropriated by the wind. Charles turned to the silent group; fear was painted on each of our faces, yet he began to smile. “This is hilarious,” he yelled over the sounds of the storm. Laughter erupted.

The storm passed, and we made it to land. My feet hit the wooden dock, and I turned back to face Charles. He gave me that same smile, grabbed me and threw me into the water. It was surprisingly warm and comforting, and as I broke the surface I saw four figures jump in after me.