February, 2010. Marina del Rey, CA.
Specifically, at the California Yacht Club. I had attended the christening of my boss’ racing yacht, specifically built to win the TransPac race to Hawaii. (Spoiler: it didn’t.)
There with a whole slew of very rich folks wandering around in bare or stockinged feet because we weren’t allowed to leave any scuff marks at all on the virgin, white, unmarred deck. I was more concerned with the glass shards everywhere after the giant magnum of champagne was broken across the mast. I’m thinking that a fair amount of blood might have been a bigger mess to clean up than a couple of scuff marks, but what did I know?
The party was going strong but I was getting massive fish-out-of-water vibes, so as soon as it was politically correct I excused myself. On the way back to the car the sun was setting and I snapped this with my pocket point-and-shoot camera (too early for iPhones, my cell phone just made phone calls) and it turned out to be one of my favorite pictures I’ve ever been lucky enough to take.