A Weak End
"It's Friday night, People! Listen Up, People".
Blaring, reverberating, rattling, echoing Macarena, Latino and Rap beats the harbor's tranquility into an auditory pulp. Like a low, slow-meandering squall that drenches and soaks an island with its rain shower, all the dry and quiet drains with this vessel's arrival. Like some bullhorning bully announcing its private party parade to the neighbor, every non-partier within shouting distance is aware they too are "in the house, bro."
Miami's double-decker Spirit de Sol party boat creeps along the mile-long north shore, tosses over an anchor along with some of its inebriated passengers at the headwaters of Marine Stadium anchorage. Their "Chug, Chug, Chug" chants evoke a choking, dying engine but it's an onboard disc jockey's shout-outs to his gyrating minions to drain their cups while all others within earshot attempt to hear their thoughts.
"Ya'll, it is a party boat, nigger".
"I know, you have to be heard then make a scene.... or be seen.... or be seeing stars tonight."
Circling like a vulture waiting for wasted riders, an accompanying jet ski lures a few staggerers towards a water ride spin around and around innocent and unsuspecting anchored cruising vessels. I suspect few of these cruisers realize their boats would become obstacle pylons in a jet ski slalom course. To any sober spectator, it's another dizzy booze cruise tour of the harbor.
While I understand the attraction, this kind of sophomoric behavior never appealed to me in college as fun. Maybe if I were an alcoholic, a bunch of drunks aboard a floating discotheque dancing and groping strangers sounds like fun. Naa.
But I do not want to judge others. To each their own. Party hardy bro and sis. Just ain't for me at my age, but this music and mayhem only reminds me to elevate my thoughts and feelings above the fray. Light is the only direction I want to steer so in a perverse way, the dark helps me see the light better.
It is Friday and I can feel my impulses...pulling...tugging at me. Yes, I'm human...and feel the urges of these youngsters. I feel their desire...I understand their instincts. Maybe standing on my head while balancing on a waterboard or riding a jetski at 50-60 miles an hour around private yachts would seem like fun if it were intoxicated. But since I am not, I prefer more natural highs!