Crossing the Equator

Tonight, on my shift we will cross the equator. Pierre tells me I must give gifts to Neptune. What kind? Good ones, like a laptop and the like, he replies.  I am willing to sacrifice the fridge, the dessalator, and a bunch of other broken things but my environmentally conscious citizen’s mind won’t let me go there. The best thing on this boat is my husband. Can I throw him while he is wearing the Spinlock and then reel him in with the Life-Sling? The captain says “no”.

During my night shift, I squeeze into the chest-minimizing device (aka Spinlock harness) and fiercely steer the ship towards the equator. The ship’s size is swelling in proportion with my captain’s pride. Almost like Holland America size by now. My pride has grown an indescribable color beard, and mustache, a belly and clenches a wooden tobacco pipe in between the teeth. Wait, it should make me clench, just like the scuba regulator in between my teeth. I make a mental note to get a new nightguard when I get back to the US.

My hands firmly grasp the wooden steering wheel. I have the responsibility of getting my crew and all the merchant goods to the Northern Hemisphere. My crew of 300 is sleeping below the decks next to the barrels of flour, butter, dried fish, rum, four tortoises from the Galapagos, dodo birds’ eggs from Mauritius and …. there should be something from Tahiti.  Oh, a painting from that oddball so-called painter Gauguin who sailed with us last time. And vanilla. Lots of vanilla. Wait, is vanilla shipped in barrels as well? I hate vanilla, by the way. The imaginary vanilla smell upsets my stomach and I let a series of loud burps into the starry night. My deflated pride disappears down the wind. Wrong timing. “Dragon, I am married to a dragon “, I hear Jim’s voice behind me. My shift is over.  I donate a couple of quarters to Neptune per captain’s orders and relinquish the helm.

To my biggest disappointment, crossing the equator was not memorable at all. No ribbons to tear with the mast, no LiveLines on the water, and no cheering crowds. However, in the morning the real ship captain named Pierre presents us with Official Crossing the Equator Certificates and now I’m named “The Lady of the Ocean”.

Crossing the Equator Certificate