The Carrying On of A Wayward Son

This morning, I made my second visit to a toy store in the last year.

For some reason, I always feel slightly creepy walking around a toy store alone.

What kid hasn't dreamed about chasing turtles with his very own remote controlled boat?

It’s one thing to be with friends and to laugh and make jolly as you wonder the aisles, poking fun at the multitude of children’s playthings that surround you.

It’s another thing to browse the aisles of a toy store alone at 11 a.m. on a Tuesday morning.

What can I say? I love toys. I’m willing to risk looking a little creepy on the off chance that I’ll find some new toy to spend my money on.

Today I finally bought a remote controlled boat.

I’ve wanted one for quite a bit of time now. Last summer I spent many afternoons hanging out at a local lake while my housemate fished. Not having a fishing license or pole of my own, I spent my time reading books and watching the ducks that communed on the lake. As I watched the birds, did I wish I had some bread to feed them?

God, no; I wanted to chase them with a high-speed remote controlled miniature yacht.

I put off buying a boat for an entire year due to various reasons: lack of money, waxing and waning interest and cooler, more expensive toys discovered.

In the last few months, though, I made up my mind to buy an RC boat as soon as I had saved up enough money. Well, the time has come. Last night I visited a few Wal-Marts to do some comparison shopping but did not discover the boat of my dreams. This morning I made my way to Toys ‘R’ Us and walked the aisles, looking for a boat to call my own. After comparing a few various models, I found what I thought would be the right one.

So, picking up a few more toys, I exited the store with dreams of nautical expeditions floating above my head.

According to the instruction booklet, it would take five to ten hours for my boat to fully charge. I figured I would study for a bit while the battery got nice and strong. But, after a few hours spent with my nose in a Finance textbook, I found that I could not wait any longer. I assembled the boat and drove to Central Park.

Nestled in Central Park is a nice lake that would be perfect for sailing in, but there were too many fishermen.

Normally, I would love the chance to mess with fishermen with my boat but I was still inexperienced in the art of RC motorcrafting. I didn’t want to open myself up to a counterattack from a pissed-off angler and find that I couldn’t escape quickly enough.

I decided to find another lake to break my boat in at.

I made my way to Wolf Pen Creek, a small lake that was relatively unattended.

Putting my boat in the water, nothing thrilled me more then that first sputter of the motor. With a little push of the remote, my boat was zipping along.  I raced circles around turtles, chased ducks and impressed local kids with other assorted bits of derring-do.

But after ten minutes, the boat started to slow down.

Oh crap! I thought. I guess I should have charged it for a bit longer. Well, I’ll pilot the ship back to shore, collect my boat and go home to charge it for the rest of the afternoon, I figured.

As I began my slow crawl back to the shore, it became apparent that I wasn’t going to make it. I lacked the battery power necessary to bring my boat home. My first RC boat was going to be stuck in the middle of some god forsaken lake and I was going to have to swim among the turtles to collect it. Crap.

I panicked and began pushing and prodding my remote, hoping to find some hidden reserve of energy that would safely bring it back to shore.

The kids that had gathered to watch me pilot my boat began to cluster around the opposite shoreline, a look of hunger forming in their eyes.

I could tell from the way they were slowly taking off their shoes that they would be all too glad to race me to the boat, stealing my newly purchased dream without even a second thought.

The boat, in its last reservoir of energy, was still ever-so-slowly crawling back to the shore. I knew it wasn’t going to make it back. As desperation began to sink into my gut, something on the ground caught my eye. A few feet from my toes lay a stick long enough to reach out and grab the boat, dragging it to shore.

As I leaned forward to hook the boat, I learned my lesson: Good things take patience to enjoy. I waited a year to buy my RC boat. I guess I can wait a day to fully charge my batteries before I take my boat out on the open water again. Or else next time I might have to bring a pair of emergency swim trunks.

Afterword:

This story was written almost two years ago. Since then, I sailed my boat exactly three more times. Within a month I was bored with my purchase. I eventually sold the boat on Craigslist and realized I had learned an entirely different lesson from the experience that I had first thought: I really need to stop buying junk that I don’t need.