I listened raptly as Hollywood explained to me what was happening on the course and answered my million and one questions with patience. How much time between races? Why is that boat going in a circle? What is that sail called? How do you tell the difference between the types of boats? What do the numbers on the hull mean? Why are they different from the numbers on the sail? What are the rules if someone cuts your boat off? How do you get points? How many points win? Why do you hang off the side of the boat? Little by little, leg by leg, I began to understand more. As one boat stole the wind from some of our good friends and passed them near the finish, I started cursing…like a sailor. I had my binoculars at the ready and at the end of each race Mer & I called out the winners to Clean who then sent out the field report to SA. This was a day for a live video feed though. Watching the boats round the mark in real time as they headed off the wind under spinnaker on a sunny Saturday in March while much of the country was still suffering through winter was something that I know you all would have enjoyed.

In between the races, I sat and talked to another Meredith. This Meredith is a bronzed and athletic girl who decided after a successful career in New York as a news producer to ditch the corporate rat race. She returned to her hometown of Miami to become a Program Director for some of the youth sailing programs including one of the only sailing programs in the country for children with disabilities at Shake a Leg Marina in Coral Gables (www.shakealegmiami.org).

Her stories are inspiring and she is equally inspiring. She told me of a little boy who is a quadriplegic who had learned to sail and uses his head to steer on one of the specially outfitted boats. I listened to Meredith describe how autistic, developmentally disabled, mentally challenged and paraplegic kids learn to sail. I looked around at the wheelchair bound and happy people with us, I learned once again that every day we each make a choice of how we are going to live in this world.

I never would have thought that amidst all the drinks, laughs and ridiculous antics of these regattas that I would be reminded of such an important life lesson while on this very special boat. The last J/24 crossed the line and we headed back from the course, and I asked if I could helm the boat back to the Marina. I took the helm and like riding a bike it all came back to me. Red Right Return. Go diagonal into the waves. Find a point on the horizon. My seaborne guardian angel gave me a perfect first day on the water.

And like all good sailors, after returning to shore and cleaning up the boat, we headed over to Monty's at the Marina. Mer & I continued our mass SA tattoo campaign by branding many of the crews from the bay course boats while simultaneously drinking margaritas, eating unhealthy fried foods and socializing. Thoroughly spent after a couple of hours of this, we headed back to our respective hotels in South Beach to regroup, recharge and get ready for the night ahead.

Thankfully, at the last minute I had recruited two of my girlfriends from back home to accompany me to South Beach. But while I was on the water continuing my sailing education they did what the average person does when spending the weekend in South Beach. They lied on the beach in front of the hotel, drinking fruity drinks in between napping off the exhaustion and alcohol poisoning they received courtesy of a night of dancing and drinking at Snatch, Mynt, the Delano, Shore Club and other SoBe hot spots.

Following the Biscayne Bay races, I met them in the hotel. After a brief disco nap we turned on the iPod speakers and rocked out while getting all glammed up for another night on the town. Mer & Al were nowhere to be found, so the three of us headed over to the South Seas Hotel for the Regatta party. Of course, it had taken us a while to get it all put together and we showed up at the tail end.

We met up with some friends, had a few cocktails and headed out on the town for one more night of fun. Many of the sailors wanted to go to a bar down in the art deco district called Mango's Tropical Cafe. A bunch of Brits, loads of Americans and random Miami tourists crowded this jungle-themed bar/club. Pseudo-strippers, male and female, were spread throughout this fine establishment in their extremely small and tight leopard print polyester costumes, dancing up on the bars. One exuberant intoxicated sailor was nearly tossed by a gigantic bouncer when he attempted to jump on the bar and join the dance party.

I'd really love to tell you what happened after we left Mangos, but then I'd have to kill you. Just use your anarchist imaginations to conjure up what happens when a group of sailors (including some hot girl racers) and a bunch of single party girls go out in the city with maybe the hottest nightlife in the country. Think about it…and I promise you - you're not even close.

And that, my dear friends and new enemies, brings this tale to its end, although I imagine that for me that it's really a beginning. My long dormant competitive genes suddenly awakened by racing, I realize there isn't a chance in hell I'm going to just sit back and watch all the action. I too want to hang off the side of the boat and have black & blue hip bones. I want to scream and curse and cheer and hug my crew at the finish. And no worries - I now know there are no ropes on a sailboat…only lines.

My first "Learn to Sail" class starts in May. We'll be sailing Ultimate 20's at Bayview. And hey, I know I'm not a sailor yet, but if you don't think I'm an anarchist, wait until I see you on the line at KW '08 aboard our Flying Tiger. I'll be the one with the tattoos and the bikini top…a virgin no more.

Yes indeed, there is more to come - stay tuned.

04/14/06