two-twenty

mickey's widemouth sailing team | alex

This half of two-twenty must admit a dirty little secret – I am a sailor. That’s right, by night I am a city-dweller, replete with literary interests and aspirations, more or less tolerable taste in music, and a socially acceptable but tremendous drinking problem. By day (at least during certain spring and summer months) I am a WASPy creature ruled by the wind and the sea, wearing khaki shorts and the occasional blazer, surrounded by too much reggae and sporadic bursts of Jimmy Buffet (not of my own free will, I assure you), and burdened by a socially acceptable but tremendous drinking problem. So sue me. There are worse hobbies one could have, like collecting imaginary girlfriends, being a plushie, or blogging. Dammit.

Moving on. Never in my wildest dreams did I imagine that my two worlds would collide. But they have, and the resulting wreck is called The Real World: San Diego. The show began under a dark cloud of rumored date rape, and has already begun to live up to these foreshadowings of scandal. I started watching because I had a passing interest in the participants’ day job, which is crewing on former America’s Cup yachts. But I have been drawn in by their other activities – mainly getting blind drunk on forties, calling people “the n word”, getting in fights, enjoying (or not) intoxicant-fueled romantic interludes, and most recently getting arrested (two at a time no less, in unrelated incidents!). Oddly, as I watched the hilarity unfold I found myself thinking, “Where have I seen this combination before?” Then I remembered (link below). Life imitating art is good, life imitating parody is good reality television.

Colt 45 Cup | Sailing Anarchy