Weekend Wanderer

Andrew Glazer

I’ve wanted to para-sail since I was a wormy 9-year-old on a beach in

southern Mexico.

I was lying on my back, looking at clouds, when I saw a human kite fly

by. I convinced my reluctant father to send me up into the air.

But the man driving the boat -- which tows people harnessed to a

parachute high into the sky -- said that my 65-pound frame was too light

and would be stuck floating in the air forever.

Disappointed, I walked away, filing the activity on my to-do list,

somewhere between finishing the fifth grade and kissing a girl.

Seventeen years later, with the other two items on my list completed,

it was time to para-sail.

I booked a ride with Marina Watersports in Balboa. An 1 1/2-hour boat

ride, with 10 minutes hanging 400 feet in the air, would cost $45.

Myself, my friend visiting from New York and a couple who won the ride

in a raffle, all met at Marina’s dock.

The four of us sat shivering in the morning fog hoping we wouldn’t get

wet, while we waited for our crew to get the 27-foot speedboat ready for

the journey.

“Captain” Mike Perrin, who wouldn’t give his age but looked to be in

his early 40s, dove into the harbor and splashed around for about five

minutes.

His clean-cut deckhand, Brandon Johnson, 19, fiddled with harnesses on

the boat’s deck.

As soon as we were called to board the boat, Perrin began his shticki.

While we pulled out of the Newport Harbor, he cranked up the boat’s radio

-- “Oh, Mickey you’re so fine, you’re so fine you blow my mind” -- and

grinned at the apprehensive 40-something couple.

“It’s really a pretty safe deal, as long as we’re paying attention,”

said Perrin, letting go of the steering wheel to lay the punch line.

Johnson laughed, apparently not yet tired of his companion’s routine.

“He’s my favorite deckhand because he laughs at all my jokes,” Perrin

said.

Perrin told us that the para-sailing ride would be more of a tranquil

float than a thrill ride.

“That’s why it’s only 10 minutes. Otherwise you’d get bored,” he said.

After pulling out of the harbor into the ocean, Perrin warned everyone

to hold onto their cameras. Seconds later, he pushed the throttle and

leaned the boat into a hard right, raising my side of the boat and

splashing our photographer as his back was only inches from the water.

We sped around the ocean, Blondie blaring, Perrin at the helm smiling

and Johnson, who fits central casting’s description of a wholesome

California surfer, standing at his side.

The scene -- speedboat, loud, anathematic music, and white teeth --

was so overtly Southern Californian that I felt like I was in a French

commercial for a cigarette called American Style.

After a 15-minute ride, Johnson began putting a harness onto the

raffle-winning husband, who gave thumbs up and let out a few hoots.

One end of the harness was attached to a wide, multicolored parachute,

while the other was fixed to a large, mechanical spool of steel cable.

Johnson lifted the parachute, allowing it to fill with air. Then he

turned on the spool, which gradually let the parachute and man drift

higher and higher into the air, until he was so high that he looked like

a spider hanging from a rainbow-colored web.

At one point, Perrin killed the boat’s engine and allowed the

para-sailer to fall gently toward the ocean until his dangling feet

kissed the surface. Then Perrin accelerated, raising the parachute back

into the air.

As I watched the other three passengers float, I was anxious to lift

off. I just moved to this area two months ago and couldn’t wait to get a

view from above.

As I was stepping into my harness, “Tainted Love” came onto the radio.

I stood on the padded back seat of the boat and slowly began to soar,

just as the singer said “I want to ... get away ...”

The boat began to shrink and thankfully, the music started to fade.

After a few seconds, all I could hear was the wind blowing, the distant

hum of the boat’s motor and my own laughter. Amazingly, I could still see

Johnson’s shimmering teeth.

The harness was rigged to feel like a bench. The sensation was the

same as riding on a chairlift over water instead of snow. I floated by

the Balboa Pier and could see fishermen gazing out to the sea.

I looked for the dark shadows of sharks or large fish, but only saw

the ridged texture of choppy water.

When I heard the drone of the motor stop, I knew to expect a foot

bath. I swung my legs back and forth and waved to the boat as I sunk

toward the ocean.

My big toe touched the icy water. I was glad that would be the only

part of me getting wet. But as I kept sinking deeper, I began to wonder.

The water raised to my ankle, then knee and then my waist.

Wet and shivering, I glared at Johnson and Perrin as I began to fly

back into the air. Everyone on the boat was laughing as the machine

reeled me back onto the boat.

Apparently my friend had asked Perrin to get me soaked. That’s the

last time I’ll invite her anywhere.

WHAT: Para-sailing

WHERE: Marina Watersports, 600 E. Bay Ave., Newport Beach.

HOW MUCH: $45

PHONE: (949) 673-3372