Up until now, I had lived my life without direction, without concrete plans, and without a vision. I got used to dreaming large but without clarity, looking into my blurry future with a set of dampen glasses. I knew not where I wanted to go, what I wanted to do, or how I would make a lasting impact on the world. I spent my college years pursuing a degree of rhetorical adventure, because I was not courageous enough to confront a non-virtual world. I lived my life in comfort, allowing computers to suppress my desire to sail, my yearning for a dangerous life packed with passion, with love, uncertainty and adventure. I made many excuses, like how being a foreigner to this country meant I didn't have as many job prospects anyway, so sticking with what I already did well -- software development -- was a safe choice. And so I lived my life by a computer screen, neglecting the world that tried so hard to shine through my window.
Then, the incredible happened. I was given the opportunity to become an American, a U.S. citizen. At that moment, my world suddenly changed. The world of wonders that I previously ignored because it only existed on the other side of a tiny, dirty window had now opened a door. I was free to stay in the dark room where I sat, all alone, by a computer, or to go peek outside and risk tripping and breaking a leg. I chose to peek, but there was so much outside that I was overwhelmed. The opportunities were endless -- FBI special agent, NOAA Corps officer, robotics engineer, theoretical physicist, governor, soldier, mariner, astronaut... Although my world had suddenly expanded, I was still walking in it with no direction. Yet, I went after the two opportunities that integrated my thirst for knowledge and adventure with my passion to help and make a real difference. I applied to both NOAA Corps and the FBI. I took that first step. And then a second, and a third, and a fourth. And before I knew it, I was in Detroit taking and passing the exams for the FBI, and in Maryland/D.C. nailing an interview at NOAA. It was exhilarating!
As usual, though, my dreams that went up as high as Mars, eventually came crashing down, burning through the atmosphere and becoming celestial ashes. Thanks to a hand injury, it would be a while before I could pass the physical fitness exam for the FBI. At the same time, even though I did my best to get into NOAA, I didn't make it. It was to be expected though -- here I was, nothing more than a computer geek with dreams of grandeur, and no experience with pure science or ship handling, trying to compete against people who prepared their whole lives for this. I never stood a chance. However, something good came out my failure with NOAA. In the process of applying, I learned of the Coast Guard Auxiliary, the U.S. Merchant Marines, and the Coast Guard.
I jumped right in to volunteer at the Auxiliary. I started to get training in navigation and seamanship, and I loved it! I loved the prospect of being in a military uniform, feeling proud of my new citizenship. Moreover, I caught a glimpse of the life of a Guardian, and started picturing myself as one. But my vision didn't stop there. I saw myself out at a sea, having the life of adventure I always wanted, returning home after exotic trips, made into a champion, a real man. I started to look into service as a Guardian and as a merchant marine, and then learned about different schools for becoming a deck officer. My life had taken yet another turn. This time, it was on track. I had direction. I had a vision. I wanted to sail, to be on the water, to see the world and help humanitarian missions as a captain. I had a goal, now all I needed was a plan.
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When I learned about the U.S. Merchant Marine Academy, the U.S. Coast Guard Academy, SUNNY and the Great Lakes Maritime Academy, I knew one of them had to be a part of my life plan. Unfortunately, I was too old for the first two, but not for SUNNY or Great Lakes Maritime Academy. I researched both thoroughly, and discovered that the average age at the Great Lakes Maritime Academy was 27. That was perfect! I would be around 27 or 28 when I graduated, so I wouldn't feel like an old looser like I would at SUNNY. Plus, it was closer to home, and it had two added advantages: I could finish the program one year sooner, and I could get a Great Lakes First Class Pilot license in addition to a Third Mate's Unlimited License. No other state maritime academy had these options. So, I applied. I wasn't expecting much of it. I figured, if NOAA didn't take me in, why would a maritime academy do?
As part of the application process, I visited the Academy. I learned more about the program, job prospects after graduation, summer internships on commercial sea-going vessels, and the challenges ahead. I also toured the fascinating navigation lab, the radar and pilot house simulators, and the school's training ship, the T/S State of Michigan. Here I was, looking into a career at sea, never having been aboard a large ship before. So, when I stepped into the T/S State of Michigan for the first time, it was almost like stepping into a movie. I stepped aboard this ship not knowing what to expect. Would it be exciting? Would I be infatuated with this ship upon first sight? Would I feel the rocking underneath my feet, look at the endless lake and feel too scared to proceed? Would it be anything like the ships on TV, with tight spaces, water-locked steel doors, steel mesh floors, dim lights, valves everywhere and all sorts of strange equipment on the walls? What would it be like? I asked myself, as I took that first step from the dock into this wondrous boat. It was all of the above, and so much more!
I felt the adventure rushing through my veins. I was aboard a real freaking ship! It was huge on the inside. It had classrooms, a cafeteria, tons of rooms and the biggest engines I have ever seen! The engine room was like looking at a complete power plant, all cramped into one and a quarter floors. The hallways stretched thin and long, scary-looking, worthy of an action movie where sailors would be thrown up and down during battle. The rooms were tiny, with beds about an eighth of the size of a normal bed, but lacked nothing in amenities or maritime style. It was a shock to find complete classrooms on board, but then again, the ship itself was a floating classroom. The stairways were steep and cramped, but served their purpose well: to allow for travel between the five floors on the T/S State of Michigan. Finally, at the very top of the ship stood the bridge, the pilot house, the ultimate room to be in, the captain's domain. I lack the words to explain just how cool the bridge was. It had an area for charting, large windows all around, and the absolute strangest contraptions to man the ship. On board was also a radar screen, and what I can only guess were positioning and control screens. This room was built to support both technology and human ingenuity, and it was, without a doubt in my mind, where I wanted to be. Here I was, stepping on the centroid of my ultimate dreams, imagining my future the way it should be.
On my way back home, I couldn't stop thinking that this was what I wanted, but how could I get there? Money would be the biggest issue. How would I afford this expensive education? I had to devise a plan, and I had an idea about where to start.... For three years, I thought, I could do contract work. It would help with my day-to-day expense, but it wouldn't be enough. If I ever went for a whole month without finding any contracts, that would be the end of it. I needed savings, but I also needed something steadier than contract work. So I thought, since I was following my dreams, why not compliment them with something that I really liked to do? I enjoyed being at the Coast Guard Auxiliary thus far, so maybe, just maybe, I could join the Coast Guard as a reserve officer. Why not? It would be fun, rewarding, and it could help me get a steady albeit small source of income to survive three years in school. And so, I applied to the Cost Guard! That was only the first step. There would probably a process longer than NOAA's waiting ahead.
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Two weeks later, I received a call from John, the director of admissions at the Great Lakes Maritime Academy.
- "Gabriel," he said, "I need to speak with you. I have all your application materials in front of me, but I want to know. Are you absolutely certain that this is what you want to do?"
Absolutely certain? I thought. At that point, my worst fears appeared before my eyes. What if I left my job and sold my house to go to school there, and half-way through the program I ran out of money? I would be thousands of dollars in debt with student loans, have no home, no job, and no future. I wasn't 100% positive that I could make it through three more years in school. I would certainly be walking a dangerous road financially. What if I shipped to my first summer at sea, and discovered that a mariner life was just too hard for me? I couldn't just walk off the boat and return home, since I would be in the middle of the sea for weeks at a time, landing at foreign ports before ever seen home again. It could turn into one frustrating adventure that would make me wish my life was still confined to a dark, lonely room with a computer, a room in which the world quickly passed by my window waiving good bye.
Was it worth the risks? Perhaps, I thought. What if I succeeded, and earned a Third Mate's license, and was able to sail the seven seas? I would meet people and see places around the world that I could only dream of in my computer screen. I could become an unsung hero, leading humanitarian missions and thus making a real difference in the world. I could be out at sea, gaining inspiration, coming back home for month-long breaks to dedicate time to my passion for writing. I could even become a high-ranking officer at the Coast Guard, and help protect my nation, my country, my home. I could learn to lead. I would have to lead. I could then steer my life in the right direction, and maybe even find amongst the world's many fine women a lovely wife. Yes, perhaps I could. But it would require my absolute devotion, enduring financial hardship, and making school my life for three long years. Could I really do it? I thought. Certainly.
- "Absolutely," I replied in an authoritative tone. "This is what I want to do."
- "Great," John said. "In that case, I am officially admitting you to the Academy. Welcome aboard!"