Escape

I can’t help being drawn to the word “escape” whilst trying to draft an emergency preparedness plan. An “escape” to me connotates a fearless liberation of the default norm, rather than, the more classic, sprint through a burning doorway.

But would an escape from the norm just become the norm eventually?

Actually – don’t answer that.

Recently, I have become a little bit obsessed with the idea of my escape being a swashbuckling maritime adventure. Let’s call it the Count of Monte Cristo effect. Moving from far flung port to port, sailing GPS-less through pirate territory down around the Cape of Good Hope. Hair billowing behind me.

The notion of travelling cargo-class was something my grandfather had done for work in the 1930s (UK lime boats; Caribe bound).

But I had no idea that, even tomorrow at the click of a mouse, I could crash somebody else’s norm by hitch-sailing around the globe in the surplus staff cabins of the world’s largest container ships, becoming yet another mysterious and history-less stranger on the merchant navy ship tide lines. And for a fraction of the cost of a vay-cay cruise-liner.

To you, this probably sounds completely unglamorous; to me, it sounds like the experience of a lifetime. Salt water & diesel. Never mind the sea sickness or introvert contra-indications around chatting in the mess canteen of an evening. Or the not being allowed to disembark at a number of the ports, presumably for safety and/or customs reasons.

Perhaps I am too late in the day to be seeking a true adventure on the high seas, although an excellent excuse to inspire the writing of an emergency preparedness plan.