“Did I Do That?” (in Urkel voice)

Captains Log: November 10, 2022

Continuing preparations for my circumnavigation. The project of the day was beautiful in its simplicity: fix the diesel heater on the boat, makes warm water, dishes done, hot showers without firing the engine or bleeding the batteries dry. Not to mention, you know, I might need a heater sitting on the equator for the next three and a half years (that’s a joke). In retrospect, I really wish it worked rounding South Africa. But, of course, this is my life, so nothing goes smoothly.

The heater lives in a locker off the stern — a coffin‑shaped crawlspace about eight feet long, maybe four feet tall, three feet wide. You climb in, lie flat on your back, and reach up to tinker with the innards of the heater. No airflow, no room to move, headlamp on, beanie on, sweatshirt on so you don’t shred yourself on mystery fiberglass. It’s basically a DIY sauna built by Satan himself. I brought a one‑gallon jug of water to sip while I wrestled the heating beast, but the locker’s too awkward to set it down, so it sat just above me outside the locker where I could blindly grab it.

First mistake: After a bit of tinkering I realized I needed to drain the coolant out of the system. So I grabbed an empty one‑gallon jug and used it to catch the coolant. I think you see where I am going with this. 😂 Finished the job, set the jug up next to the water jug outside the locker. Identical jugs. Same shape, same color, same “I dare you to ruin your day” energy. Again, I think you see where this is going.

Second Mistake: Five minutes later I’m sweating like a Thanksgiving turkey, wipe my brow, reach up for a glorious cold gulp — and bring the jug down without looking. Two, three huge gulps. About a cup and a half of what I assumed was water. Spoiler: it was not. It was coolant with a slight hint of “you absolute moron.”

At that moment, lying on my back in a dark locker, throat full of antifreeze, I spit out the rest that was in my mouth. Time slowed down like a bad movie scene: record scratch, freeze frame — "yep, that’s me, you’re probably wondering how I ended up here." I was sure I’d either die or at least be very remorseful about this poor life decision. I didn’t WebMD first — I went full on Forrest Gump: sprinted to Cedars‑Sinai (the ER’s at the end of the street from my boat in Marina del Rey), burst in like an idiot who swallowed poison and begged not to be dead.

The triage folks, bless them, assumed I drank it on purpose and entertained the idea of putting me on suicide watch. I don’t blame them — it reads like an emergency‑room plot twist I have seen on ER, Greys Anatomy or Scrubs! 😂 I had to prove I was not clever or dramatic enough to plan that: showed them pictures of the boat, the tool kit, the headlamp, the beanie — a convincing catalog of incompetence. “I’m just a dumb boater who drank coolant,” I told them, and after a bit of convincing they accepted that explanation.

They rushed me back to my own personal suite of stupidity — think Motel 6 meets Darwin Awards, complete with fluorescent lighting and a big sign over the door that said, “Congratulations, you played yourself.” I swear all the doctors were holding their laughs down as I paraded by wearing the scarlet letter of stupidity. They took it seriously because coolant and organs are not friends. Although every time the nurse walked in, under her mask, I could swear she was grinning ear‑to‑ear, deviously. She brought me what looked like a medical version of a medieval potion: activated charcoal slurry. They mix this gloopy, gritty charcoal into water and hand it to you like some kind of cursed smoothie. Texture: wet sand. Flavor: charcoal with no apology. The nurse even offered to toss in some orange juice “to help.” She lied. It still tasted like campfire ashes sprinkled on Tang.

I forced it down, gagging and making faces like I was auditioning for a bad sitcom, and somehow lived to tell the tale. Instead of dying, I walked away with a free charcoal smoothie and a ridiculous story

Legendary face‑palm. Funny now, terrifying then — classic sea story.