The Place to Escape

Three weeks in. Although not fully submerged, I’m in deep. Already involved, not by choice, on the periphery of island drama. And I thought Arcata was small. This 13-mile by 3-mile island puts things into perspective. My sailing instructor, Capt. Jessica, put it well, “everyone here is escaping something, whether is the busy-ness of a 9-5, or something else, you have to be a certain person to move here.” When I try to trace back my motivation for moving here, I believe it can be attributed to a series of events that date back to my sophomore year of college.

One blustery Sunday night in Baltimore City, I decided it was a good idea to explore the bus route with Zoe. Not a good idea. Sorry Mom and Dad. It was the first time my parents allowed Zoe to visit. I was 20 and she was 16, just old enough to drive up to Towson. I didn’t take into account that it was a holiday weekend. Oooops. The bus dropped us off in Mt. Vernon near the Walters and Peabody. It was 8pm and nothing was open. The bus never came back. The only safe place that I thought might have something open in close distance was Fells Point. We walked to the inner harbor and caught a cab. The only place that was open was Meli’s, a greek-owned trendy cocktail restaurant. It was 21 and over only, and for some reason, they allowed us in no problem.

The only table left in the classy dark basement was located right in front of the Ryan Diehl jazz band. We sat down, and started chit chatting with Ian Hoffman (I’m unsure if his last name is Hoffman, but that is how I remember this fact from a one-time encounter 3 years ago). Ian was a local restaurant/bar/hotel critic. I remember trying to figure out how I could someday acquire his job. Anyway, he was asking me where college kids liked to go etc etc etc. Ian happened to be friends with the drummer Ryan, and in between sets he would come over and we would talk about sailing since Zoe and I were from St. Michaels. He casually mentioned the Virgin Islands, and spending winters chartering his sailboat down there. Over the next few years, I stayed in loose contact with Ryan, and we joked about me working for his charter boat Liberty.

I guess this is where my escape part of the story comes in. Damn it. I had excluded myself from Jessica’s comment until just now. I’ll make a long story short, leaving out the dirty details. I fell in love in California. Our relationship was on and off for the entirety of my residence in Arcata. I realized that since he couldn’t commit to any of my adventures I would just have to do them alone. I wasn’t going to wait around for a stupid boy. Even though I still imagine how it would be different if he had come along. But I’ll still justify my move as a desire for adventure. Honestly, it was a combination of my whole life that led me to where I am right now.

So here I am. Quickly falling in love with the water, wind, sunsets, and sights. And slowly falling in love with the rest of it.