Christina Oxenberg

August 16, 2009

Yesterday, late in the afternoon, I was walking along the shore of a bay.

A movement out on the water caught my attention. I couldn?t make it out as the sun was directly behind it. Whatever it was, it was shuddering with speed.

Speeding and zooming into view it turned out to be a Sunfish sailboat.

In an instant the Sunfish was vertical and the dude aboard was standing up with the little boat traveling behind him, like a wall. The mariner was grappling with the ropes and a crazily flapping sail.

Full speed, sliding over the water, he was headed for land and, slowly I noticed, I was directly in the way.

Panic.

Heart racing, I clumsily attempted to scarper in the direction of the dunes.

But the Sunfish was too quick and it struck the beach, right at my toes.

I held my breath, but just as suddenly, the boat was all innocence. Not so much as a whisper from the sails. The monstrous danger evaporated into the original perfect sunshiny afternoon.

Up close I could see the young man in charge was no more than a boy, maybe 14.

He hadn?t seemed to notice me at all.

Our parallel realities related only in their intensities.

He stayed sitting on the now tranquil vessel, ran a hand through tangled hair.

Then he started yelling:

?I was pissing in my pants in the whole time! I?ve never been more frightened in my whole life! That was great!?