Perspective
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William Lobdell's dream job, continued ...
“This is the best job in the world, doggie!” McLeod said. “It doesn’t
pay much, but you’re outside and the boss can never look over your
shoulder – you’re underwater!”
We tied up to Running With
Scissors, a 41-foot yacht moored in the harbor. I dressed for battle:
wetsuit, hood, mask and fins. In my mouth: a regulator attached to an
air hose. In my hand: a scrubbing pad.
Underwater, I couldn’t hear anything other than the sound of bubbles made by my breathing. Visibility was poor, maybe 6 feet.
McLeod
told me to get the water line; I would work the perimeter of the boat,
from the water line to about 2 feet down. I started scrubbing.
There
was something very satisfying about cleaning boats. With each arm
stroke, I wiped away the algae and saw the boat’s hull shine again.
Propelled
by fins, I quickly scooted around the boat twice, making sure I hadn’t
missed a spot. And then I ventured deeper. As I swam underneath the
boat, I first fought panic; with a huge yacht above me, I felt trapped.
But I concentrated on the job and soon was overcome by a
strange sense of peacefulness. I grew hypnotized by the sound of my
breathing matching the rhythm of my strokes. No boss. No distractions.
Weightless in another world.
With the boat’s hull cleaned, I
slowly swam underwater to McLeod’s skiff, not wanting my job to end. As
I broke the surface, I took in a deep breath of fresh, salted air and
looked around: pelicans, seals, yachts, mansions, stand-up paddle
boarders, kayakers and fishermen in small boats. This was “a holiday at
the sea.”
On weekdays, I’ll still be “making mud pies in a
slum” as a journalist. But any weekend I can manage, I’ll be out in
Newport Harbor, working my part-time dream job. At least until Playboy
calls.
William Lobdell is the author of “Losing My Religion: How I Lost My Faith Reporting on Religion in America—and Found Unexpected Peace” and co-publisher of the Web-based Newport-Mesa Daily Voice newspaper.
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William Lobdell's dream job, continued ...
“This is the best job in the world, doggie!” McLeod said. “It doesn’t
pay much, but you’re outside and the boss can never look over your
shoulder – you’re underwater!”We tied up to Running With Scissors, a 41-foot yacht moored in the harbor. I dressed for battle: wetsuit, hood, mask and fins. In my mouth: a regulator attached to an air hose. In my hand: a scrubbing pad.
Underwater, I couldn’t hear anything other than the sound of bubbles made by my breathing. Visibility was poor, maybe 6 feet.
McLeod told me to get the water line; I would work the perimeter of the boat, from the water line to about 2 feet down. I started scrubbing.
There was something very satisfying about cleaning boats. With each arm stroke, I wiped away the algae and saw the boat’s hull shine again.
Propelled by fins, I quickly scooted around the boat twice, making sure I hadn’t missed a spot. And then I ventured deeper. As I swam underneath the boat, I first fought panic; with a huge yacht above me, I felt trapped.
But I concentrated on the job and soon was overcome by a strange sense of peacefulness. I grew hypnotized by the sound of my breathing matching the rhythm of my strokes. No boss. No distractions. Weightless in another world.
With the boat’s hull cleaned, I slowly swam underwater to McLeod’s skiff, not wanting my job to end. As I broke the surface, I took in a deep breath of fresh, salted air and looked around: pelicans, seals, yachts, mansions, stand-up paddle boarders, kayakers and fishermen in small boats. This was “a holiday at the sea.”
On weekdays, I’ll still be “making mud pies in a slum” as a journalist. But any weekend I can manage, I’ll be out in Newport Harbor, working my part-time dream job. At least until Playboy calls.
William Lobdell is the author of “Losing My Religion: How I Lost My Faith Reporting on Religion in America—and Found Unexpected Peace” and co-publisher of the Web-based Newport-Mesa Daily Voice newspaper.
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