You're either a plate shitter or you're not
Screams from the water propel me out of the galley onto the deck. The glare of the sun against the white topsides forces me to squint. I can't see him. He screams again. It's coming from next to the boat. "Shit! Shit!" he screams. Sharks? Did he cut himself on the prop? He is cramping up? "Are you OK?' I yell down, leaning over the lifelines to see him. "There are shit stains coming from these through-hulls! Shit stains! Yours not mine!" I look at the kid that Ole Yeller down in the water has been working with this winter and he says under his breath, "That's because we don't shit onto paper plates in the cockpit, hanging off the steering wheel with our pants down. It's a sight to see." He laughs but is totally serious. I am thankful this maneuver wasn't demonstrated on my watch.
This guy shits on a plate. No wonder he's been deeming his paper plates "good enough for another use" after each meal.
No fucking way.
Of course this doesn't surprise me as I have become accustomed to seeing various gatorade and juice bottles full of piss. I thought it was because we were on a starboard tack for the delivery south and Ole Yeller didn't want to use the port side crew head because it doesn't flush very well uphill. But no. He continued to use the bottles when we reached St. Lucia.
Now, I have to come clean. I have done my fair share of peeing in bottles and crapping in plastic bags in the middle of the night. I admit it. This was on my own boat years ago when J and I got to New York with a much used and much-in-need-of-repairs boat. Gitane's plumbing wasn't functioning, poor girl, and living without a water tank and toilet during a winter in Jersey City... it's a challenge. Even if the head had been working pumping shit into the Hudson is pretty illegal. Besides, the marina water was frozen all around us so it would have just sat under the hull until Spring. Yum.
So on those nights when it was in the 20s and a 2am trip to the head required pants, boots, and a heavy coat, well, screw that. So into a bucket it all went.
But this is different. I am working on a multi-million dollar yacht. Ole Yeller is the caretaker and therefore thinks that every time he avoids using the head he increases the lifespan of every gasket and pump in the line. (And avoids shit stains on the hull, of course) He may be right. But to me that is like keeping the plastic covers on furniture or having a favorite set of china that you never use so none of it will ever break. So no one sits in the family room on pristine couches and dust collects on robin blue teacups. What's the point?
A boat is meant to be used to get you places, to relax upon, to make yourself at home within. Guests need to crap in the toilets. And use the sinks and the showers. They come dripping down the companionway and leave salt and sand in their wake. They drop things like phones and swimming masks and bottles of wine onto the cabin sole and sometimes it leaves a mark in the varnished teak and holly. Someone opens a hatch during a sail and a bunk gets soaked and stained with saltwater that never really comes out of the thick fibers of the mattress. Lines and cushions get sun damage along with the sunburned guests (and um crew) and need to be replaced.
A boat is meant to be used well, enjoyed, worn in, maintained until it gives out.
If it ever does.
Like love.
Like friends.
Like life.
Shit on a paper plate to avoid the messiness of dealing with a something that is meant for exactly that purpose?
Seems like a messier option to me.
Especially if you miss.
This guy shits on a plate. No wonder he's been deeming his paper plates "good enough for another use" after each meal.
No fucking way.
Of course this doesn't surprise me as I have become accustomed to seeing various gatorade and juice bottles full of piss. I thought it was because we were on a starboard tack for the delivery south and Ole Yeller didn't want to use the port side crew head because it doesn't flush very well uphill. But no. He continued to use the bottles when we reached St. Lucia.
Now, I have to come clean. I have done my fair share of peeing in bottles and crapping in plastic bags in the middle of the night. I admit it. This was on my own boat years ago when J and I got to New York with a much used and much-in-need-of-repairs boat. Gitane's plumbing wasn't functioning, poor girl, and living without a water tank and toilet during a winter in Jersey City... it's a challenge. Even if the head had been working pumping shit into the Hudson is pretty illegal. Besides, the marina water was frozen all around us so it would have just sat under the hull until Spring. Yum.
So on those nights when it was in the 20s and a 2am trip to the head required pants, boots, and a heavy coat, well, screw that. So into a bucket it all went.
But this is different. I am working on a multi-million dollar yacht. Ole Yeller is the caretaker and therefore thinks that every time he avoids using the head he increases the lifespan of every gasket and pump in the line. (And avoids shit stains on the hull, of course) He may be right. But to me that is like keeping the plastic covers on furniture or having a favorite set of china that you never use so none of it will ever break. So no one sits in the family room on pristine couches and dust collects on robin blue teacups. What's the point?
A boat is meant to be used to get you places, to relax upon, to make yourself at home within. Guests need to crap in the toilets. And use the sinks and the showers. They come dripping down the companionway and leave salt and sand in their wake. They drop things like phones and swimming masks and bottles of wine onto the cabin sole and sometimes it leaves a mark in the varnished teak and holly. Someone opens a hatch during a sail and a bunk gets soaked and stained with saltwater that never really comes out of the thick fibers of the mattress. Lines and cushions get sun damage along with the sunburned guests (and um crew) and need to be replaced.
A boat is meant to be used well, enjoyed, worn in, maintained until it gives out.
If it ever does.
Like love.
Like friends.
Like life.
Shit on a paper plate to avoid the messiness of dealing with a something that is meant for exactly that purpose?
Seems like a messier option to me.
Especially if you miss.
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