By Josh Tavares-Pitts

And in that moment, I realized I had seen the future. The déja vu I experienced when I stared at that ice cooler was unlike anything I had ever felt before. The outdoor benches under a gazebo, the cool gray pavement with that signature puddle of water running out from under that same big, light-blue cooler with I-C-E on the front, it was something I had definitely seen before. But I knew I had never been there before, as this was a summer sailing camp. And I hate sailing.

Back on that fateful day in 2018, when I was still that naive 12-year-old, I had made a fatal error. I was lazing about on my sofa, watching some classic cable TV, when my parents asked me about the possibility of going to a sailing camp during the summer. Of course, I agreed, thinking nothing of it. “It might be a fun experience,” I told myself, oblivious to the nightmare that would befall me in a month and a half.

When I arrived at the Boulevard Club that July (very fancy, I know), I was excited. We were taken to the back area of the club, where the docks were. It was a pretty open area. The outside entrance, where the parents would come at the end of the day to pick up their children, was enclosed by a fence, leading into a small hill with a grassy field. The edge of the field was cut off by a small cliff of about two meters, at the bottom of which was a very trash-filled pocket of Lake Ontario. This pristine green field, I would later find, would become my saving grace throughout this entire experience.

The first day was filled with icebreaker activities. We all gathered on the grassy field, where we went around in a circle introducing ourselves. All of the introductions were as you would expect; however, one in particular caught my attention. It landed on a girl who introduced herself as Sterling Scott. To any normal person, this name would mean nothing special. However, if you’ve ever watched a Youtube channel called Studio C, you would recognize the name from one of their more famous skits, Scott Sterling. This skit featured the penalty shoot-out portion of a soccer game, in which the amazing goalie, Scott Sterling, would impossibly save the ball from going in the net each time, unintentionally using his face. It escalates to the point where he is nearly unconscious on the ground, crawling away from the net, as another ball hits the rim, bounces off, and smacks him in the face again. I recommend watching this skit, as it is one of my personal favourites. You can find it here.

As crazy as this coincidence was, it got even crazier when they announced we would be playing a friendly match of soccer and, lo and behold, Sterling Scott was to be our goalie. We were winning two to one, and with one minute left, the enemy team was coming up on our goal. If they scored here, we would be tied, which for kids of our age was essentially a loss. The striker of the team wound up their kick and released, sending the ball flying. WHAM! I kid you not, the ball barreled directly into the face of Sterling Scott, saving the goal and winning us the game. Everyone was cheering as Sterling was taken away to receive an ice pack.

Now, you’re probably thinking, “you said you hated this. It sounds to me like you were having a great time.” Don’t you worry, the suffering is about to begin.

During lunch on the second day, I was sitting at the picnic tables with some of the other camp attendees, including one bruised Sterling Scott. On top of the déja vu I experienced from looking to my left, where the light-blue ice cooler at the base of the club building was, I was about to witness the beginning of my end.

The chatter from the tables died down as the instructor approached. “Today guys, we are going to start sailing! Who’s excited?” Cheers erupted from the crowd, my voice among them. How foolish I was.

When we had gotten our wetsuits on, which consisted of a swimsuit and a thin shirt to keep us warm, reviewed the rules of the ropes, and gotten into partners, we set off on our sailboats. The moment I stepped onto the boat, it rocked like crazy. That was red flag number one. While out sailing, the boat would not stop shaking, throwing water in and out like a hose on the mist setting. Red flag number two. The winds were incredibly strong that day, making the boat incredibly difficult to steer, blowing it all across the water. Red flag number three. Nearing the end of the day, we had to be rescued by our instructor, as we didn’t know how to control the boat enough to get it back to shore. After experiencing my first outing, I was traumatized. This was not the relaxing boat ride I had wanted or expected.

The final day of the camp, following the past week of what can only be described as torture, was the “test” day. We were to demonstrate our skills to the instructor out on the water. Most of it went fine, until the point when we gathered on the water and listened to our final task. “For the final assessment, you will now capsize your boat and right it again.” I was astounded. One thing was going through my mind. So you’re telling me that we need to purposefully flip over our boat, launching in the ice-cold freezing water, to simply put it back up again and carry on like nothing happened?

It is safe to say I didn’t pass that test.