My Escapes

Most people do anything they can to avoid prison. I longed for it. I trained for it. And not a run-of-the-mill county jail, not even some barb-wired enclosure fifty miles out of town.

I coughed up a premium for the plane ticket. If I waited, I’d back out. Friends and acquaintances responded with puzzled looks as I announced my destination. Every so often, someone got it. “That’s so cool!”

Indeed. Alcatraz. Like thousands of people every year, I planned to hop on a boat to the infamous island. But I never stepped foot on the compound. I settled for Alcatraz-adjacent.

I joined three dozen energetic souls at 8 a.m. on a September Saturday, each of us toting a bag of extra belongings and engaging in excited—or, in my case, nervous—chatter. “Is this your first time?” served as an easy conversation starter. It also helped us newbies figure out who to follow. If that was even possible.

“Keep the two apartment towers in your view,” our guide told us as we motored away from Fisherman’s Wharf. I wondered if a fresh loaf of sourdough bread might have been enough of a memory. Too late. I eyed the Ghiradelli building by the towers. My target.

We came within a hundred feet of Alcatraz. I eyed a passenger ferry dropping off saner tourists. A few mused as, one by one, my pod of green-capped comrades made splashy exits from our boat. A posse of kayakers and paddleboarders lurked on the periphery, our would-be rescuers should the journey prove too much.

The “Theme from Rocky” scored our send-off. At first, the biggest challenge was avoiding smacking the feet of another swimmer. Soon enough, there was distance between us. After five minutes, I looked back. Alas, no distance between the island and me. I swam on, swallowing two gulps of salty water as I navigated the swells. A kayaker shouted that I was drifting too far left. Currents I could not detect. Ten minutes. Still no shaking Alcatraz. I considered waving for a rescue, but no boaters were in sight. I kept swimming, fifty strokes at a time.

In time, The Rock shrank. Ghiradelli was somewhere ahead. I spotted the towers and trudged on.

How many prisoners drowned in these waters? “Jaws” and “Sharknado” whirled in my mind. I kicked and pulled harder. Every so often, I spotted a green cap, bobbing in the water. You are not alone.

At last, I swam between two piers and made my way past a pirate ship. I stroked until my right hand hit sand. Land ho! Chocolates! I did it. I escaped Alcatraz.