I am a hopeless, pessimistic, gutless defeatist. A total loser. Do NOT read this blog. My attitude will infect you.
You still here? Don't say I didn't warn you.
Anyway, last week I was eagerly looking forward to the Hangover Bowl. When I sailed it on New Year's Day 2005 it was a blast -- 15 to 20 knots, wild reaches, scary runs, crowded marks and lots of capsizes. In the middle of last week the forecast was predicting similar weather this year. Yeah baby.
Then, a day or two before the regatta, the forecast changed. Snow and rain were predicted for Saturday night. Worse, the winds were forecast to be 1 to 3 knots on Sunday afternoon. That didn't sound much like fun. Especially as I have an 80 mile drive to get to the club. Bummer.
So on Sunday morning I reluctantly decided not to sail the event. During the day I checked in on Weather Underground. On WU there is a link to a personal weather station just across the river from the club. From noon onwards it was showing the wind speed as "calm". Zero. Nada. Zilch. Yeah, there was the occasional gust of 2mph but who wants to sail in that? And every other station up and down the Connecticut shore was showing the same. I congratulated myself on my good decision not to waste several hours driving to a regatta that must have been abandoned with no sailing. Smug, smug, smug.
Then on Sunday evening I checked out the club's website. Wham! I see that the regatta did happen. Results were posted on the club website with their usual efficiency. They got in 5 races. DVDs and bottles of alcohol were awarded. What? How did that happen? Damn, damn, damn.
Now I feel stupid. I could have gone sailing, had some fun on the water, hung out with my buddies afterwards and maybe come home with a cool prize and some wacky sailing experiences to write about in this blog. What a way to start the year! Oh well. Forget all those zany resolutions that I posted yesterday. First real New Year Resolution is ... be optimistic. The risk of hanging out at the yacht club in no wind and light rain and freezing temperature while a race committee vacillates about whether we will sail or not (not to mention driving for three hours to and from aforementioned freezing, rainy, windless venue) is a lesser evil than the risk of missing the only day of Laser racing round here between December and March.
You still here? I warned you. I'm a loser. A faint-hearted, indecisive, dithering deadbeat. Do NOT read this blog.