My boat was on a beam reach when a gust came over the water and nearly capsized my vessel. With that small diversion, the 13-year-old I was racing overtook me and made his way toward the finish line.
On this course, sailing one of the most pristine bodies of water on the eastern seaboard, my reign as an undefeated captain came to an end. On this day a small mistake cost me the win and I would have to pay the victor with a hot dog and some soft serve from the vendor right across the street from the Plaza.
Our sailing day was different than usual, it was on a pond in the middle of a metropolis, and our boats are measured in inches instead of in feet. My rented boat, #71, was beaten by #59 in Central Park on a pond populated with rented model sailboats sailed by amateur sailors, tourists and old salts alike.
