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I was raised on, by, over and under the water by a rugged, funny, foul mouthed Tugboat Captain father. Though some would say I’ve lived an unusually crazy life for a 5’3” female of the petite persuasion. I, on the other hand think it’s perfectly normal. A typical day in the hot Florida sun doing a number of duties from climbing into water tanks only small enough for me to squeeze through, to standing on a Styrofoam float in the ocean welding while it rains. I’ve been electrocuted more times than I can count, and have caught fire on several occasions. Now, I have tried many, many, many times to step out into the “real world” and work jobs that a nice young girl should work. Anywhere from Office work and Management to Cosmetology and Bartending but reality always seems way too harsh and complicated for the likes of me. It’s not the work, never the work; I was brought up to do what I was told and not complain (even if it may or may not kill me) it’s the people. Human beings surprised me more than any kind of labor. Betrayal blows like the wind and people breath it all in just to turn around and blow it on somebody else. I’ve learned that lies are a form of survival I just couldn’t seem to live with. Life on a Tug is dirty and hard, we cuss and we’re scarred and we’re all a little crazy but the only air we breathe is fresh off the Florida Waters...