A Party Even Gatsby Couldn't Miss

Jay Gatsby threw all his amazing parties for one reason – to get his lost love Daisy to attend. So he never really mingled his parties; he would linger in the outskirts, scanning the guests for a glimpse of his true love.

On Mazurka, he’d have nowhere to hide.

Throughout the summer we have parties – sometimes twice a week, to fit the Wednesday/Saturday fireworks schedule at Navy Pier, where we glide underneath the display, the lake itself giving the best view of the action. This was one of my first dates with Mark, in September, the last fireworks show of the season. He was hosting some friends and their parents and invited me along, and as we found our spot right off Navy Pier, I wandered down to the bow, when suddenly the show started. I sat alone, the fireworks pouring over me, as if they were a show just for one. There was only one other audience member – Mark, at the helm, observing this new girl onboard his boat.

We try to bring people together for different reasons – colleagues, or family, or friends who really should meet each other. Mark auctions off a boat ride for a student fundraiser at his university. Sometimes they are guests neither of us has met – a friend visiting from out of town will bring along their family who live in the suburbs.

That’s part of the great thing about living aboard a boat in Chicago; you can show people who are visiting and people who have lived here twenty years a view of the city they have never seen.

You learn a lot about someone by sailing with them. Last summer, I had a group of my writing friends on board. While Mark drove us around, we read aloud our manuscripts. Just when the last writer was reading, a thunderstorm came up of Lear quality; we huddled underneath the bimony, laughing hysterically. The storm passed as suddenly as it came on, and we watched the fireworks. Later, in the cabin, Mark passed around dry clothes to everyone. “You don’t happen to have a skirt, do you?” my friend Julia joked. Mark brought out a white skirt he made in a sewing class he had taken to learn how to sew curtains for the boat (he was the only guy in the class, and their project was skirts). It was white denim, and fit Julia perfectly. Another night, at the end of a two-week heat wave, we had about a dozen people on board to go swimming; a lightning storm came up; rather than go inside, we collected under the bimony, watching lightning strike other boats in the harbor. Only when the rain came sideways and the grill wouldn’t stay lit did we go back inside, crowding into the cabin, chatting away.

The group dynamics are fascinating. You take a group of people who perhaps have never met, and you throw them all together on a boat where anything can happen. Probably there is beer and wine, and a promise of dinner later on. Put a lifejacket on them and tell them to hold onto a rope as we pass through the locks, and they are lifelong friends. Last night, for example, as we finished a five-hour cruise and headed through the lock at Navy Pier, we came upon very windy conditions and rough water on the lake. It was about a half hour ride from Navy Pier back to Belmont Harbor, where the wind threw us from side to side. Atop the fly bridge, with Mark driving, we blasted Steely Dan and linked arms to keep our chairs from sliding too far. Inside, the crew held tight to anything that might go flying off the shelves (we lost two wine glasses).

You can tell a lot about the crew by the way they disperse on the boat. Our first party this year was a birthday bash for our friend Kathy; most of her guests we had never met. They collected mainly in the bow – they are up front, friendly, taking-life-by-the-horns kinda folks, a lot like Kathy.

Last summer, a crew of psychiatric medical residents spent the entire evening inside the cabin, talking shop, even though we were parked in front of the Hancock building on a beautifully calm night. Most of the time, people collect on the fly bridge, where you can grab a plastic chair and sit near the captain, and maybe convince him to let you take the helm for a moment.

Whatever judgments you make of someone in the first five minutes will disappear once you set sail. ‘Cause now you’re on the water, where anything can happen. The crew is all you have to depend on. Dormant parts of a personality suddenly come alive on rocky waters; someone you thought was wishy-washy, or shy, suddenly emerges with strong, deft decision-making. The introvert can lead the crew; the know-it-all sulks in the cabin. The way a person reacts to the beautiful lake, or challenging weather, or the immense space says a lot about them. And nearly every single time we arrive back at port, our guests will exchange phone numbers and emails – they’ve sailed together; they’ve bonded.

That night I went aboard Mazurka with Mark to watch the fireworks, we learned a lot about each other. I learned he had tools all over the place and didn’t stand on much ceremony. I learned he was generous and kind. He learned I wasn’t the kind of girl who needed constant attention; I was happy to sit on the bow of the boat, alone, watching. I could handle my own business.

He figured I might just make a good first mate.