And my feet went squish, squish all the way home

Some students at the college where I work are about to set sail on a two-week adventure as crewmembers aboard a square-rig tall ship. They'll be out at sea, depending on each other for their lives, facing the elements, combining strength and skill to keep several tons of wood floating purposefully above the depths.

It's a good thing I'm going to stay at my desk.

When I was about 15, I took sailing lessons one summer on the Charles River in Boston. My first time out without an instructor, I capsized at the dock. I was soaked with Charles River toxic slime from the waste down. I took the subway home, and the little puddle forming under me would spread forward when the train braked, and backward on accelerating. The worst part was the shoes and socks. My poor Nikes were never the same again.