This is the first chapter I wrote in this book. I wanted to start with this particular moment because it changed everything.

When I walked into the surf shop in San Juan, Puerto Rico, I was hungover, felt like garbage, reeked of alcohol, and looked exactly how you would imagine someone on a multi-day bender would look. As my eyes adjusted from the bright Caribbean sun, I heard someone greet me in Spanish.

"I'm sorry, I don't speak Spanish."

"Welcome. Let me know if I can help you find anything."

Then I looked up and saw a beautiful Puerto Rican girl standing shyly with the most adorable smile. It is hard to describe the feeling I had at that moment. It was as though time stopped, sound faded except for my heartbeat, the air was sucked out of the room, and the whole world disappeared around me.

I walked down the ramp for the first time toward my aircraft’s parking spot.  There were bright orange T-34 turbo mentor planes everywhere.  It was bright, it was loud, and more than anything, it was hot.  I waited my whole life for this moment, the moment I saw in all my favorite movies when the pilot strutted to their aircraft in their flight suit, carrying their helmet and gear, peering steely-eyed through aviator sunglasses, dog tags rattling, and ready to take on the world.  I should have been excited, but it was the last place I wanted to be. 

In 2004, I embarked the Coast Guard Cutter Mellon in Dutch Harbor, Alaska, and sailed across the Bering Sea and Pacific Ocean to Singapore. We were in port for several days, and I explored every part of the country. As this was before wifi, Travelocity, or Yelp, I developed a technique where I would go to the souvenir shops and peruse the postcard rack. I would study the photos on the postcards because, generally, they would showcase the area’s greatest hits. I would see what piqued my interest and head off into the unknown. I remember seeing a postcard for Sentosa Island Beach Resort. There was an image of the suspension bridge spanning Palawan Island, the southernmost point of Continental Asia. I took off into the sweltering heat and went to the beach.

I am perched on a lifeguard tower at Second Beach in Middletown, Rhode Island, staring out at the ocean. My skin is dark, and my hair and lifeguard sweats are bleached from the sun. As I watch beachgoers enjoy the cool Atlantic waters on a beautiful New England summer day, I hear a call on the radio asking me to report to the main lifeguard office. I climb down the tower and rush through the hot sand. My boss is in the office and hands me the phone. I couldn't think of anyone who even had the number of the lifeguard office or why it would be important enough for me to leave the tower. Nervous and confused, I answered,

"Hello?"

"This is Lieutenant Commander (John Doe?) from the Coast Guard Academy. Is this George Matthews?"