November 2

Today I made a pact.  I think.  Is it possible to make a pact with yourself?  I’ll check.

My dictionary says the following:  “Pact: (noun) an agreement; a league; a compact; a covenant.”  Nothing about there needing to be more than one person, so it looks like I’m good.  Then again, they may have updated the definition since this was published, seeing as how it’s 15 years older than I am.  Maybe I should check online.

My wireless is acting up again, so I’m going to have to stick with what I have.  I made a pact today.  I have decided that I am going to ride a dolphin, if it’s the last thing I ever do.

November 3

This is how I see it.  I’m 37.  I’ve lived a good long life and done many fascinating and inspirational things.  Here is a short list:

1) Ate a buffalo chicken pizza.

2) Was offered drugs by a man on a street corner. 

3) Witnessed a local folk hero known only as Sombrero Man liberate several bags of Taco Bell takeout from a temporarily vacated Chevy Tahoe.

4) Voted for governor.  Twice.

I have no further life goals, save one: to ride a dolphin.  And I will one day soon.

Today I typed up my pact and hung it on the wall with the last unused thumbtack in my desk drawer.  This way it is always at the front of my mind, never to be replaced by a craving for Chinese food or a sudden urge to spend my nights watching online pornography.  The dolphin is more important. 

November 5

Sorry for not writing yesterday.  I stayed late at work.  I’m trying to accumulate overtime hours so that I can finance my voyage to the ocean, where I will harness and ride a dolphin.

When I got home I was planning on spending the rest of the day setting out the logistics of my plan, but that didn’t quite materialize.  I turned on the TV for background noise and it turned out that the entire first season of Magnum P.I. was on.  Needless to say, after a brief trip to the kitchen for seven microwave burritos, I spent my remaining waking hours on the sofa with Tom Selleck.  This is why I love Magnum P.I.:

1) The mustache.

2) I enjoy the predictability. 

Since I didn’t get anything done yesterday, I will be working for the rest of the night.  Details on what I accomplish later. 

November 6

I realize now that I haven’t really told the whole story behind my desire to ride a dolphin.  The reason I am intent on doing so is based on the following:

1)      I spent my childhood watching Flipper reruns.

2)      I’ve always had a strange fascination of the sea ever since my father lost his life in a tragic Ski-Doo accident off the coast of the Delaware Water Gap.

3)      My girlfriend in college was the daughter of an old sea captain who went by the name of Captain Tom, and insisted on calling me “Chief” instead of using my real name.

But that’s not all there is to it.  I’m too tired to explain the rest, so I will elaborate tomorrow.

November 7

Here’s the rest of the story: Every male member of my family has died for one reason or another at the age of 37:

1)      Father – Ski-Doo accident.

2)      Uncle – crushed by a falling piano.  I thought that only happened in cartoons.

3)      Grandfather – strangled with his own mustache after winning the World’s Greatest Mustache Competition in Norway.  The runner-up was furious, apparently.

4)      Great-grandfather – no one knows.  He just disappeared.

Seeing as how that is exactly how old I am, as of exactly one month ago, I figure my time is short.  Therefore, I must act fast to accomplish my final goal.

November 8

Today is my mother's birthday, and I have decided to host a party for her. She came by with my aunts and my grandmother to celebrate what will likely be one of my last family gatherings on this earth. I got her a new coffee machine.

It is a joyful occasion, but with somber undertones.

November 9

I am still full from yesterday.  I told my mother that I would be in constant contact with her over what remains of my 37th year, though I imagine I will get too caught up in my dolphin-riding quest to do so.

I have a preliminary plan for getting out to the ocean.  I placed a call to my college girlfriend, Tracey, to see if Captain Tom is still sailing.  “No,” she said.  “He came down with Old Prospector’s Syndrome seven years ago and has been trying to mine for gold in his refrigerator ever since.”

Mining for gold is a fruitless endeavor where we live, especially since the gold rush, and certainly in a fridge.  I told her so.  “I know,” she said.  “I’ve been trying to convince him for years.”  She did mention that his boat is still down at the marina, though, if I wished to use it.  I said yes.  Now I just have to figure out where the dolphins go.

November 10

Captain Tom’s boat is still in the same condition I remember it from 16 years ago – the paint is still chipped, it still creaks like a house built during the Revolutionary War and it still smells terrible.

The wheelhouse is covered in maps and charts, and the cooler that I remember always being stocked with 40’s of Colt 45 and cans of Spam shows signs of being attacked by someone with a sharp instrument, perhaps a pickaxe.

I found an unsent letter lying on the floor of the cabin, and it reads as follows:

“There’s gold in them thar waters!”

No indication of to whom Captain Tom was planning on sending the letter, or if it was just for his own benefit.

November 11

I paid a visit to Tracey today to see if I could get the keys to The Poinsettia.  That’s the name of Captain Tom’s boat.  You see, despite being a scary, scraggly old man, he was always a big fan of Christmas.  During the two and a half years Tracey and I dated, he got me the following gifts:

1)      The sharp part of a rusty anchor he covered with decorative bows.

2)      The Idiot’s Guide to Talking Like a Sailor™.

3)      A 25-piece puzzle of the prospector character from Toy Story 2.

Tracey seemed happy to see me.  She gave me a big hug and then welcomed me inside.  I immediately saw the affects of her father’s disease, because the back door to her house let you into the kitchen.  The fridge was pocked with holes, and the door was missing.  I commented on the state of the fridge, and asked Tracey how she kept her frozen goods viable.  She pointed to a locked door on the opposite wall.  “There’s a working one in there,” she said.  Captain Tom didn’t even acknowledge my presence.  Maybe he doesn’t remember me.

November 12

I paid another visit to Tracey today after work.  I thought I should tell the woman who once loved me what I was about to do.  She seemed shocked when I explained it to her.  “How in the world are you going to do that?” she asked.  “You do know that swimming with wild dolphins is illegal, right?”

I had no idea this was a law, but not wanting to look foolish, I replied yes, yes of course I knew that.

She wondered if I would take Captain Tom with me.  She thought that maybe a trip to sea would cure him of his disease.  I agreed that we might as well give it a try.  We set a date to bring him to the marina on Saturday.  I made a list of things to bring:

1)      A picnic lunch.

2)      A mop to clean the decks of The Poinsettia.

3)      Antiseptic and bandages, in case an errant pickaxe swing by Captain Tom were to injure Tracey or myself, or a bystander if they got too close.

I feel that we will be prepared.

November 13

Today will be my last entry until the weekend.  My boss is cracking down on me for not getting any work done, and he is making me stay extra late for the rest of the week to make up for it.  I explained to him my situation, but he seemed unmoved.  I have narrowed it down to the following four reasons why:

1)      He hates dolphins.

2)      He had a traumatic experience at an aquarium touch tank as a child.

3)      He is a New England sports fan.

4)      God put him here as a test and I am meant to kill him in order to realize my goal.

In any case, I will be far too tired to write when I get home.  Farewell until Saturday, when we bring Captain Tom to the marina to try and cure him.  I put a note on my briefcase to remind me to purchase antiseptic from Rite Aid on the way home.

November 14

It was one hell of a week.  My boss was finally satisfied that I had gotten enough done when I left at seven yesterday.

This morning we brought Captain Tom to the marina.  Luckily the antiseptic and bandages were unnecessary, because once we reached The Poinsettia, he dropped his pickaxe, grabbed the mop from my hand and stepped onto the deck.  He hesitated a moment before beginning to wash the boards at a fevered speed.  Tracey and I smiled at each other, heartened by what appeared to be a sign of his recovery, and we sat and ate our portions of the picnic lunch while he cleaned.

When he was finished, Captain Tom climbed back onto the dock, sat cross-legged next to his daughter and said, “Hand over one of them thar sandwiches, Chief.”  I obliged, and then, while he was eating, I nudged his pickaxe over the edge of the dock, into the water.  As far as I know, he didn’t notice.

November 15

Tracey called me and asked me out to dinner last night after I wrote my entry.  She was overjoyed that we were able to cure her father of his affliction.  She told me that just to make sure, she put a small drink cooler at the dinner table when they got home, and he simply gave it a puzzled look and relocated it to the hall closet.

We went to TGI Friday’s.  I told her that I wonder where they get all the stuff they put on the walls.  “I have no idea,” she said.  It was a pleasant evening.

This morning I made a major breakthrough in my dolphin search.  According to the Wikipedia page on bottlenose dolphins, they can be found almost everywhere in the Pacific Ocean, which is oddly convenient, because that is the body of water nearest to where I live.  Tracey seems to be more on board with my mission now, and has been searching for ways to get around the “no-swimming-with-dolphins” rule.  She went to law school after college, so she probably knows what she’s doing.

November 16

I quit my job today.  I told my dolphin-hating, Red Sox-cheering boss that, judging by my constant preoccupation with my favorite aquatic mammal, I have no choice but to see my plan through to its conclusion.  Starting tomorrow, Captain Tom, Tracey and I will start preparing The Poinsettia for its voyage.

Captain Tom gave me a checklist of things to bring along:

1)      Two changes of warm clothes.

2)      Any old issues of the Sports Illustrated Swimsuit Edition I happen to have lying around my house.

3)      Beer.

4)      Scuba gear.

5)      A camera.

6)      Ted Kennedy’s memoir.

I will write again after our preparations are complete, just before we set sail.

November 23

The past week has been a whirlwind of activity.  Captain Tom, Tracey and I have been busy preparing the boat, and it appears to be quite ready to make way.

Captain Tom has installed a fish finder on The Poinsettia.  I’ll admit, I was skeptical that the technology would work since dolphins are technically not fish, but Captain Tom assured me that it wouldn’t be a problem.  “They swim, don’t they?” he said.  “This here machine is the best me money can buy, Chief.  No need to worry.”  I believe him.

Tracey decided that she wants to come with us.  I was hesitant, fearing that there would be some danger out there, and I certainly don’t want her to run the risk of being injured or caught by the Coast Guard.  But she insisted, and Captain Tom is all right with it, so I guess that’s that.

Something seems to be happening between Tracey and I.  She is behaving much differently toward me than when I first called her weeks ago.  I think she shares my enthusiasm for dolphins.

November 24

This morning we set sail.  Captain Tom has already made headway into the beer cache.  I told him to use caution, since I am relatively inexperienced at boat piloting, but he would have none of it.  “Listen, Chief,” he said, “I steer better with than without, so ya just mind yer own business.  Aye Chief?”  Not wanting tension in these close quarters, I agreed.

I am preparing myself for the moment when we finally come across a group of dolphins in the ocean.  I have the equipment I need, but I must be mentally ready.  Therefore, I have worked out how the whole thing will go:

1) Put on gear and jump in the water.

2) Find a dolphin, or let one come to me, whatever happens first.

3) Tell the dolphin the name I have for him - Tom, after my favorite actor.

4) Ride the dolphin as far as he will take me.

5) Get back on the boat and give Captain Tom a hearty handshake.

Hopefully, it’s only a matter of time.

November 25

I’m beginning to regret that I asked Captain Tom to take me out to sea in the wintertime, because it is outrageously cold out here on the ocean.  The wind blows mightily and tosses our boat around like Matt Mitchell did to me in the fifth grade.  I was small.

We’ve been at sea for two days, but I haven’t changed yet because I’m afraid I will freeze to death the second I take off my coat.  I think it’s because of these things:

1)      When I was seven, my older brother – may he rest in peace – told me snow was God’s dandruff, and that totally grossed me out.

2)      The year after, I came inside after playing in the cold to find that boogers had frozen on my upper lip in the shape of Fidel Castro’s face.

Luckily we are headed for warmer waters.  Captain Tom says that the fish finder has detected movement to the south.  That means that if we make haste in that direction, we have a good chance of finding some dolphins.

November 27

The first thing I did this morning was change into my gear for the swim.  I did this because Captain Tom woke me up by smacking me on the side of the head.  “Chief, we got them dolphins yer so intent on seeing off the starboard bow!” he said.  I was very excited, of course.

As soon as I walked out on deck I saw them, which means today is the day.  I will let you know how it goes, because Captain Tom is waving at me angrily.  The dolphins are apparently moving very quickly.  Plus, I think he wants me to just get in the ocean so we can go home.  Wish me luck!

March 13

It turns out that it wasn’t just dolphins out there in the ocean.  The reason they were moving at such a fast pace is because a great white shark was pursuing them.  I didn’t think sharks normally went after groups of full-grown dolphins.

I’ve spent the past three months or so recovering in the intensive care ward of our local hospital.  The shark apparently didn’t care to differentiate between delicious dolphin and me.  The doctor also informed me that during my treatment one of the medications didn’t quite agree with me.  That would explain the strange visions I had of Jesus riding a velociraptor and singing, “Swing Low, Sweet Chariot.”

Tracey and Captain Tom dragged me back on board The Poinsettia after Captain Tom hit the shark in the eye several times with last year’s Swimsuit Issue.  They’ve both been in to visit on several occasions.

My doctor says I should get some rest, so I will have to write again later.

April 5

Greetings!  This might come as a surprise, but I’m dead.  From what I can tell, my wound became infected and then it was downhill from there.  I could tell something was up because I started having those hallucinations again. 

So I’m in Heaven now.  Sorry it took me so long to write again.  I had some trouble getting back down to Earth to recover my diary.  Tracey locked it up in a box in her attic along with a bunch of my other stuff.  Turns out ghosts can go through walls, but we can’t pick locks.

Anyway, it’s very nice up here.  Here’s why I think so:

1)      God is a great guy, but he told me that his son has never ridden a dinosaur.

2)      I finally got to ride a dolphin!  You can do pretty much whatever you want up here, so right after that I beat Wilt Chamberlain in a game of one-on-one.

3)      Free t-shirts.

This is going to be my last entry.  I think I would rather go out and enjoy myself than spend so much time writing.

Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go learn Spanish from Ricardo Montalban.