Shifting about, I struggle to settle on a comfortable position. As I curl up under an insufficient blanket, a dim light flickers in the periphery. Immediately, I am on my feet in a sheer panic. The light grows brighter and appears to be drawing closer. Terrified, I strain to get my bearings. Is the anchor dragging? Is there an oncoming vessel? Where the hell is the cockpit? Suddenly, the realization hits me that I am staring out of the window of my apartment and the light is a lone streetlight illuminating a deserted sidewalk. A wave of relief washes over me. In another moment, my relief is replaced by an indescribable sadness. Returning to my bed, I understand that the boat sits safely in a boatyard in New Zealand and I find myself landlocked half a world away in Los Angeles. The Bible advises us that “he that does not work, shalt not eat.” As an unrepentant devotee of food, I reluctantly returned to the workplace on February 26th in the capacity of Finance Manager – Costs and Manufacturing for POM Wonderful. Based in West Los Angeles, this position is responsible for budgeting, tracking, and understanding the costs of producing the fine pomegranate juices and teas that seem to be all the craze these days. In this role, I am expected to travel to the manufacturing facility located outside of Fresno for a couple of days each week. During my initial visit to the production site, I was surprised to find the majority of the plant unoccupied and the machinery lying dormant. Since pomegranates are only harvested once a year, the plant only runs for thee months, from October through December. While being given a tour of the vacant plant, I was amazed at the array of technology used in the process. After being delivered by trucks directly from the fields, the pomegranates are placed on a conveyor belt that passes under a series of cameras used to assess the color, size, texture, and firmness of the pomegranates to determine whether they will be used as juice or sold as fresh fruit. Even more impressive than the cameras is a newly developed machine that can extract the arils from inside of a pomegranate, thus saving consumers from the inconvenience of opening their own pomegranates. Despite only 12 percent of Americans being able to identify what a pomegranate looks like, the juices and teas are wildly popular and the business is thriving. The success of the juices and teas has created a market for other pomegranate products and the company is constantly developing new ideas. Soon, the health benefits of a bottle of pomegranate juice will be available in pill form. Aside from the product, the other large difference from my previous experience working for General Electric is that the company is privately owned. As a result, there are some nice perks that come with the position. Since the company also owns Fiji Water, there are unlimited bottles of delicious water from the South Pacific available to drink at work. In addition, the company has a fleet of small airplanes that make travel from Los Angeles to Fresno amazingly convenient. There are no lines, no security check, no ticketing, and no unexplained delays; just show up at the airport and board the plane. A door-to-door trip from LA to Fresno that would take three or four hours by commercial travel takes an hour. As an added bonus, I have been able to fly in the co-pilots’ seat. Interestingly, flying a plane is similar in many ways to sailing from the use of the GPS and waypoints to the autopilot and importance of understanding weather patterns. Being new to the Los Angeles area, I was faced with the daunting task of finding an apartment and getting settled while attempting to learn a new job. Perhaps the biggest change from sailing is the overwhelming sense of uncertainty and the general lack of control. Onboard Audentes, there are a limited number of things on which I needed to focus and I developed a fairly efficient routine for handling the numerous responsibilities that required attention. Unexpected emergencies arose, but my concerns were normally confined to a relatively small space. Further, the outside distractions were limited. My domain was small, but it was entirely mine. Life was fairly simple and most complexities were self-made. That is not the case ashore. Back on land, I find myself dealing with the actions of others, struggling to adapt to dynamic conditions, and suffering the hundreds of small humiliations that accompany everyday life. In Los Angeles, there is no larger frustration than dealing with traffic. Many people have suggested that long passages would prepare me for the tedious, plodding progress of a traffic jam. It doesn’t. Instead of the calming repetition of rolling waves continually lapping against the hull and urging the boat forward, here the repetition is rows upon rows of cars idling impotently and inching forward fueled by a barely suppressed rage. Not surprisingly, commuters in this area invest a lot of money in their cars (not counting the appalling $3.35 per gallon for gas). Each morning, I find myself stranded in a sea of Mercedes’, Lexus’, BMW’s, Porsche’s, Hummers, and the occasional Ferrari. Each weekend, the lines of idling cars move from the streets to the plentiful car washes that are nestled between the beauty parlors and burrito joints that service the two major needs of this city. The only benefit of this tendency to spend so much time in their cars is that the radio stations are terrific and probably offer the best selection of music that I have found in any city. Still, each day I find myself getting irritated whenever I predict that someone will do something stupid and, much to my chagrin, they almost always prove me correct. Fortunately, my commute is a relatively short 15 minutes. To entertain myself, I count the number of times that I get cut off (usually 7-8 times per trip; Prius owners are the worst) and keep track of how many people run red lights (averages between 3 and 4 cars pouring through each light). Usually, as I sit becalmed at a light, some motorcycle threads its way between the lanes of cars and it is all that I can do not to open my door or change lanes just as he is overtaking. I am not a good person. When not waging an unwinnable battle with traffic, I spent my first month in Los Angeles looking for suitable housing. While residing in the corporate apartment for a month, I spent my weekends scouring the Westside desperately seeking a decent place to call home. Using Craig’s List and an internet apartment search website, I trudged between a series of dilapidated hovels and rundown closets. The only thing that all of the apartments had in common was that they were overpriced. Unlike the rest of the developed world, the real estate market in Los Angeles seems to strongly favor the seller instead of the buyer. Attractive apartments are rare and are snapped up within hours. Landlords can charge ridiculous prices for a good location, even if the studio lacks quality, size, or parking. Most apartments do not even come with refrigerators. My own specifications were fairly simple: I wanted a place close to the beach so that I could be close to good running and biking and I wanted something in Santa Monica so as to avoid a lengthy commute to work. After several weeks of viewing nothing but depressing holes, I was ready to resign myself to settling for anything in my modest price range when I stumbled upon a gem of an apartment right in the heart of Santa Monica. The price had recently been reduced and the open house was packed with eager prospective tenants. Cautiously optimistic, I applied and was told that my application would be considered alongside the 15 other applications that had been received within hours of the showing. Following some advice from a co-worker who had recently purchased a home in the area, in addition to my application I also provided a brief letter outlining my background and why I would be a good tenant for the apartment. Fortunately, I somehow prevailed in the beauty contest and was awarded a lovely apartment only two blocks from the calming influence of the Pacific Ocean and overlooking bustling Main St. Even better, the apartment includes a parking, a refrigerator, and a small balcony. As I gradually furnish my new home, I am excited about exploring the vibrant streets of Santa Monica and enjoying the easy access to the nearby waterfront. And so, I navigate the muddled waters of everyday life, dropping in unnecessary sailing metaphors whenever even the smallest opportunity presents itself. Several weeks ago, I even made it out for a short daysail with a co-worker. In light winds, we cruised out to the Channel Islands and I reveled in the sense of well-being that I found in the familiar surroundings. To quote Ishmael from “Moby Dick”: “Whenever I find myself growing grim about the mouth; whenever it is a damp, drizzly November in my soul; whenever I find myself involuntarily pausing before coffin warehouses, and bringing up the rear of every funeral I meet; and especially whenever my hypos get such an upper hand of me, that it requires a strong moral principle to prevent me from deliberately stepping into the street, and methodically knocking people’s hats off — then, I account it high time to get to sea as soon as I can.” I am not yet shopping for coffins or joining funeral processions, but I do occasionally dream of far-off exotic islands. For the moment, I am happy where I am and hope that my life in Los Angeles will satisfy my sense of adventure and provide the opportunities for learning that I crave. Finally, I wanted to notify long-time readers who might be interested that I recently had an interview published in “Ocean Voyager,” an annual special issue of Ocean Navigator. As one of the offshore voyagers interviewed in the publication, I answer questions about preparing for long-distance cruising and my inspirations for deciding to head offshore. There are several pictures, including an amusing one of me suspended aloft performing the highly technical repair of tying a pillow around a spreader tip in a desperate attempt to stop my asymmetrical spinnaker from tearing whenever it backfilled. The most observant readers might notice that I am reaching around a courtesy flag hanging limply in which blue masking tape is coming off. The reason for this oddity is that I tried to save money by making an Colombian flag into the Ecuadorian flag by simply covering the stars on the Colombian flag with blue masking tape – probably more of a discourtesy than not flying a courtesy flag at all. My Dad has suggested that this interview represents my 15 minutes of fame, which is possibly the most depressing thought imaginable. Personally, I always thought that I had all the makings to become the wittiest serial killer to ever terrorize the streets of some nondescript town. Although the public would be appalled by the atrocity of my acts, they would not be able to help but to appreciate the clever methods and the subtle social commentary made apparent by my crimes against humanity. My rampage would reveal a polyglot criminal whose statements range from cutting political humor to painful religious observations. Ultimately, my downfall would be an ill-conceived pun that renders the righteousness of my crusade dubious. It seems like a natural end for my God Complex. For those interested in purchasing a copy of the “Ocean Voyager” magazine, copies are available at West Marine stores throughout the country. I should note that I have been getting gauged by West Marine for years and I typically leave the store feeling dirty after purchasing another overpriced item for the boat. During my last visit, I suffered flashbacks of the thousands of dollars that Brian and I poured into the West Marine store in Ft. Pierce, Florida as we spent a month living in a squalid boatyard, turning Audentes into a seaworthy vessel. (If West Marine was my Vietnam, then Budget Marine in the Caribbean was my Iraq.) Despite my animosity, West Marine does offer a good selection of magazines that are no more overpriced than anything else in the store and I was happy to be able to find a copy of the interview in the landlocked confines of Fresno. The special issue will reportedly be on display and for sale until the end of the year. For any readers of the interview in Ocean Voyager who have found their way to this website, I welcome you to browse through the pictures and journals depicting my voyage. As always, I welcome feedback.