I'm sleeping on a boat

At about the same time when passengers from the doomed Costa Concordia cruise ship were jumping into the Mediterranean Sea and swimming for land, I was invited to spend the night on my friend's 100-foot charter sail boat off the coast of St. John.

He overheard me telling a friend on the phone that I was spending the night on a 'luxury sail boat' and I think it bothered him but I didn't care. It was luxurious as hell and that's how I roll.

Bill is the captain of the Tilly Mint and his girlfriend Nathlaie is the ship's amazing cook. She also keeps my man honest and will humor his slight addiction to Southern-style grits. Check out their blog.

Moments before I met Bill in the Yacht Haven Grande parking lot, he sent me a text:

"Forgot to remind you, don't bring anything illegal on board..."

Who does he think I am? Some kind of Caribbean drug pusher? The only thing I brought with me was a case of beer, two bags of ice, a couple dramamine tablets and my sobriety.

After we hauled a new sail for the boat and maneuvered our way past the cruise ships in the Charlotte Amalie Harbor, we were out to the open sea and the conditions were rough. I started to get that seasick feeling where my body breaks down and I just want to take a nap.

That shit passed. And then the sobriety thing I talked about earlier was my next victim.

Bill and Nathalie had to start a charter in St. Maartin the next day so this was more of a celebration of freedom. And when you're dealing with freedom, a little rum is always involved.

The bar voyage started at Joe's Rum Hut in Cruz Bay, shifted toward the Mexican restaurant behind Beach Bar (Bill thought he could eat more happy hour tacos than me but he was sorely mistaken) and then we got sidetracked at Woody's.

Getting sidetracked at Woody's? Like that's ever happened...

Before we knew it, we were inside a sophisticated establishment called Castaway's Tavern. This is the same place Scottie H. and I literally pulled the soda gun out from behind the bar and started to spray random people. And they still didn't kick us out.

This is also where a mysterious photo was taken on my cell phone. Not sure the story behind it or its origin but it did scare me. Nothing but head scratches the next day.

So we rode the dingy back to the Tilly Mint and I was asked to go to sleep peacefully inside a charter guest room. I had never slept on a boat before (intentionally) so it was a unique experience for me.

I woke up the next morning feeling great and just before Capt. Bill served me up some grits, I started to look through the photos taken the night before.

The painted finger nails exhibited such beauty, such glamor. Whoever this girl was, she must have been something special. Something magnificent.

"Nah dude, she was a dumpy prostitute," Bill remembered. "When I saw you talking to her, I didn't know what the hell you were doing. Then you pulled out your camera! Later on, we saw her talking to the cops outside. You don't remember? Either she was about to get arrested or she was about to turn tricks for the pigs."

I guess that's what happens when you mix dramamine with rum and Mexican food.

Sailing the Caribbean Blue

Why do scurvy sailors always have to make fun of land lovers like myself when we take Dramamine before getting on a boat (or in a kayak during rough conditions)?

I covered the 2011 International Rolex Regatta this past weekend and besides taking in all the colorful sights and foul-mouth sailor lingo, I was constantly belittled because yes, I sometimes get a little seasick. The harassment occurred in person and through facebook (I'm talking about you, Billy Haynie).

But I didn't let the yacht folk ruin a great weekend. I was on the media boat with the rest of the hired geeks for two days during the three-day regatta and got to meet some extraordinary people.

I brought the Wolverine with me for the first day. He posed as my intern/assistant/boat-savvy associate and after seeing all the sights, it just magnified his renewed passion to buy a boat and live on the water.

That first day, I also met up with Jason (last name escapes me), who I met last year during the regatta. This guy comes down from New Jersey every year, shoots his ass off, puts the photos online and hopes the 700+ sailors in action purchase enough so he can pay for the trip.

His girlfriend came with him on the boat last year but deferred this year because from time-to-time, she also gets a little sea sick. Go figure.

While on the deck after the first day, I kissed the ground and started to chug water because it was the first time all day my stomach was comfortable with fluids in it. I also met up with Ansen, who works for the V.I. Olympic Committee and he told me that the VIOC voted me as their "exclusive media person" for the upcoming Pan American Games in Mexico and the 2012 Olympics in London.

I'm not too sure but it sounds pretty good. This guy (two thumbs pointed back at me) is going to the Olympics next summer. Booyah!

On the final day, I brought along Daily News features reporter Michael Todd, who was just hired last month and also prided himself as a sailor of the seas. He doesn't get seasick, but he also did not make fun of me when I downed three Dramamine pills, chased with a cold Budweiser.

Two Italian photographers were also on this amazing Catamaran, which towed the hired geeks from one photography site to the next for the regatta. Dale was the boat captain and he was awesome. Probably going to tap him for a future charter when my no-good friends come to town next month.

Back to the Italians. They barely spoke English and I think they made fun of my equipment. I openly made fun of their accent with Mike and then we were even.

"That's a lovely accent you have. New Jersey?"

Overall, the Rolex Regatta was a fantastic experience.

It was just another moment I can freeze-frame in my mind and then ask the same questions I've inquired about for the last year: "What the hell am I doing here? How did I get so lucky?"