Its a Small world after all: Miami: Job #2

Before leaving South Carolina I got a response from a captain in coconut grove, miami area interested in my resume lacking any boat work experience. Aunt Peggy, and all the amazing aunt-hoodedness that she is, road tripped with me down to the tip of Florida to serve as my body guard and parental eye just incase the captain was a drug lord, pirate, or smuggler of cuban cigars. I waved her off and disappeared on the boat for my 3 day interview/trial period confident that if all hell broke loose on the boat my high school years of water polo, college years of surfing, and watching endless episodes of survivor man that I would return still breathing. The 3 days off the radar ended in a job offer that included a lovely salary, free roof over my head, food on my plate, and toiletries to keep me sparkling. So now my home is a 98 ft yacht surrounded by small islands in miami. I sleep in a bed larger than any other I've called my own. I have all the modern conveniences like cable, running water, internet, and a fully stocked fridge of lobster, filet mignon, and ahi tuna. Quite the change from my previous home aboard the 28ft Mi Corazon.

My workmates, housemates, and playmates are a 30 yr old capt from Alaska and a 29 yr old deckhand from New York. We work 6 days a week with one day off that I have made sure to turn into a vacation at every chance by an overnighter to key west, wake boarding, biking to the beach (which is oddly enough over an hr bike away), and salsa lessons. Its not a bad life. By day I clean toilets, learn the hospital tuck for making a bed properly, fold and iron more linens than I care to admit, serve ice cold flutes of LeVuve Champagne to women wearing $1,000 necklaces to match their swim suits and men smoking cubans like cigarettes. I sneak into bathrooms after each use and fold triangles into the ends of the toilet paper roll and put chocolates on pillows. By night, after work, I indulge in the left overs of a 4 course meal cooked by chefs trained at Le Cordon Blue paired with the half empty bottles of champagne and wine more expensive than my graduate school tuition. This job is the perfect combination of a the submissive humbling work of a slave and the spoiled luxury life, it keeps me balanced.

After one month of working on the boat I have been promoted to part time chef. I whip up arrays of appetizers and 4 course meals including everything from tuna tartar, sushi, home made lox, bacon wrapped scallops, fresh bread, creme brule, gazpacho, meringue, and sun-dried tomato and portobello mushroom stuffed beef tenderloin. I love it! Finally a creative outlet admits the tedious mindless work of house cleaning. And further completing my suspicion that this job is more training for wife-hood than anything else.

Miami closely resembles San Diego in many ways except for three: the natalie seeking mosquitos, the life sucking humidity, and the daily torrential down pours...thus making San Diego superior. Other than the above mentioned its a fun packed city on the water. I can jump off the roof of the yacht and swim in the bathtub temperature water to the little island I have claimed as my own. There's a fun downtown area walking distance with bars that adorn only the classiest of drinking games such as beer pong and penny beer nights. Everyone here is dressed to the nines in a Great Gatsby new money way which does not complement my backpacking around South America wardrobe. The culture is more Latin American than Caucasian. Grocery store clerks only respond to you in Spanish, everyone knows how to salsa, samba, and chacha, and cuban restaurants are as prevalent, if not more so, than Starbucks. Its a training ground, prepping me for my upcoming stint in South America.