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anchors aweigh WHEN IT COMES TO TAKING ADVANTAGE OF BOATING SEASON, THE WORLD'S GREAT YACHTING CITIES COULD LEARN A THING OR TWO FROM CHICAGO. BY PAIGE WISER M that things we'd never do on the mainland—drink beer, for instance—are way more fun when we're on the water. We're not telling them, either. But our kind is endangered. In theory, boating is a sporty way to get away from the riffraff. But Chicago recently expanded its harbor system with a $90 million outpost at 31st Street, making the lake exactly 20 percent less exclusive. We have to enjoy our little lake while we can. And so we rely on the qualities that make us Chicago boaters—our taste, for instance. We may have glimpsed G-strings on the Riviera, but they have no place on our boats. Chicago buttocks are pale… and proud. If it's striped, layered, or a hat, we're wearing it. If it looks like something that might end up crumpled on the floor of one of the Kardashian half-sisters, we take a pass. We rely on our sense of restraint. It's tempting to express ourselves in naming our watercraft, and appropriate—up to a point. "Seas the Day"? Cutesy but fine. "Pana-Sea-A"? Pushing it. "Fredweiser, King of Piers"? Tacky. And if you're seriously considering a traditional pirate ship name ("The Foul Serpent of Hades"), slowly step away from the helm. Deep down, Chicago boaters are really just gracious hosts with excellent balance. But there are limits. When Uncle Stan's date starts pole dancing on the mast, we act mercifully but firmly. We've found out the hard way that it's illegal to eject an unwanted passenger over the side of the boat, and it takes too long to get her where she belongs (exhibitionist Cannes, maybe, or the Wisconsin Dells). So we banish her to the stern, and tell her to keep an eye out for Asian carp. Because for a Chicago boater, there is no weather too severe, no life jacket too unflattering, no Jet Ski too annoying. But when it comes to Asian carp—we just don't mess around. MA Onward! ILLUSTRATION BY DANNY O'LEARY SN Travel published a story about "The World's Secret and Most Glamorous Yacht Ports," and there was one surprising omission. No, not Monaco. Or Portofino. Or Cannes or Antibes. What was missing? The exotic harbors of Chicago. You're right to feel snubbed; Chicago's boating community gets no respect. True, we may have the shortest sailing season in the universe (some years, the best we can hope for is a mild weekend). But we make up for it in so many other ways. I'm sure Portofino is lovely and all—I hear that's where Madonna yachts—but Chicago leaves that fishing town in its wake. We have no Eurotrash, no desiccated royalty, no paparazzi, and above all, no Madonna. Yes, some of us may get a little overenthusiastic on the water—docking 10 boats together to make one mammoth party boat—but that's just because we're all so friendly, not because we're aiming to maximize our access to premium booze. And after six months of staring at the lake's frozen whitecaps, you can hardly blame us. You want exclusive and glamorous? We're a small crew, and we like it that way. We know the rules. We know that there actually is a legitimate occasion to wear boat shoes, and that this is it. We know that if you're wearing anything but Sperry, you're trying too hard. We know that loitering all day at the Chicago Yacht Club's pasta bar totally counts as "sailing," in the same way that shopping in Vail counts as "skiing." Yes, we can pronounce Mackinac. No, we don't feel any real urge to sail there again anytime soon. Landlubbers don't know 152 MICHIGANAVEMAG.COM 152_MA_BOB_AndFinally_SUMMER13.indd 152 6/18/13 11:49 AM