My roommate works at a kayak shop in Bellevue and gave me the opportunity to do some kayak geocaching in the Mercer Slough. I decided to take a sprinter since they’re fast and I’m familiar with them after our last kayaking trip.
My roommate and her coworker both asked if I was sure I wanted to take the Sprinter, but I was confident I could handle the faster, more tipsy, less stable kayak. About the time I passed under the I-90 overpass, I hit water that looked something like this:
The problem with the Sprinter is it has holes in the seat to allow quick drainage. That means you’re always sitting in a puddle of whatever water you’re in. I suddenly realized that my confidence in handling the Sprinter had blinded me to the knowledge they were trying to impart on me when the asked, “Are you SURE you want to take the Sprinter?” They knew exactly what the water was like and that I’d be sitting in a puddle of it.
And so it goes, this is how a lot of my experiences wind up – I act confident and gung-ho, only to miss the experience and knowledge of others who could impart wisdom on me if only I’d listen.
On a brighter note, showing a couple of small town folk, including my Dad, around Seattle on the weekend of Hempfest was a fun experience. “Oh my God, I smell marijuana!” was a common expression from the four of them. They also didn’t know what to think about all of the stoned, painted, marijuana-loving, (NSFW) Naked, freaks wandering around Hempfest.