Disclaimer: Suuuuure . . . I own InuYasha . . . now you're getting veeery
sleepy . . . you will believe that I own InuYasha . . . and when I say
'now', you will wake up and shout 'SIT' as loud as possible . . . ready?
NOW!!
. . .
DAMN THOSE FALSE INFOMERCIALS!!!
Author's Note: hem hem. Right. Anyway, just wanted to let you all know some crew lingo that might be useful for this fic . . .
Cox: The person in the bow of the boat that tells you what to do and how to do it. They see all. Cox's face the opposite direction than the rowers do. Stern: The front of the boat. Bow: The back of the boat near the cox. Starboard: People whose oars are on their left side. Ports: People whose oars are on their right side. Stern Pair: (if talking about a four seat boat) the starboard and port rowers on the stern end of the boat. Bow Pair: The starboard and port rowers on the bow end of the boat. Stroke: The seat at the very stern end of the boat. They keep an eye on where the stern end it headed and they are the leader if someone were to get out of sync with the rowing. Rigger(sp?): The contraption on the side of your seat which holds the oar in place. Never ever EVER get your head or anything stuck in the rigger. We've heard horror stories . . . Cox box: In order for the rowers to hear the cox's commands, especially the stroke, cox's are equipped with something called a cox box which is a microphone that attaches to a headband around your forehead. They have the same type of speaker headset that operators have . . . but cooler.
Commands: Commands the cox will use for rowers. On occasion, the cox might just have one person row to make sure their facing strait. Or they'll just have port side or starboard side row.
Way enough: Means stop. Row: Do I really need to explain it? At the catch: Leaning forward as far as you can to get ready to row. Back it down: Instead of starting at the catch, you start at your chest and push forward. This causes the boat to move the opposite way. Very painful to do when you row for a long time and need to suddenly back it. Feels like you're getting punched in the stomach. (Catch a) Crab: Sometimes, when you're rowing really fast, your oar will get caught under the water or on the side of a bridge or something like that. This is called a crab. When the boat is in motion, and your oar gets stuck, the end of the oar you put your hands on will come flying towards you unless you're super strong. More than once, kids get knocked in the head with oars or even thrown out of the boat. Oars In/Oars Out: Some bridges are possibly ten feet wide which is what my own school has to deal with. When you do get stuck in that kind of situation, you have to pull your oar from (not OUT) of the oar lock and into your lap so it doesn't get caught on the side of the bridge or scrape against it. The cox shouts 'oars in' and you do as told. When you are out of the bridge, (usually you glide) the cox shouts 'oars out' and you push the oar back into its original spot. All too often people get crabs from doing it. Power: Instead of easy strokes (which is normal), when you need to row fast during a race, you slow down as you come forward to the catch, but almost double the strength when you pull. This is called 'power rowing'. Typical in races. Starts: As you may or may not know, the seats in the boats slide back and forth so it's easier to row. (Makes sense when you think about it). At the start of the race, you do what's called a start. (really now.) A start consists of 5 strokes. First one, you go half way up your seat slide and row, then on the recovery, you go ¾'s of the way up your slide, ¾'s again, then you do two full strokes. From then on, you do power for the start of the race.
I will surly get a beating from my friend's if I've left out anything important. I just listed the basic stuff. Nothing really complex.
Sorry if I've confused you to the extreme. --; There's a lot more than I thought . . .
Enjoy!
Row, row, row your boat,
Gently down the stream.
Merrily, merrily, merrily, merrily,
Life is but a –
. . .
If only . . .
"No."
"Please?"
"No."
"Pleeeaaassee?!"
"Noooo!" I mock as my mother continues to try and persuade me that this is a good idea.
Fat chance of that happening.
She sighs and brings her carefully painted fingertips to her temples and rubs. She realizes the begging act isn't going to work. That only leaves one option- the 'I'm going to ground you into the floor' method.
"I don't think you understand, Inu-chan. This is a once in a lifetime opportunity! Why do you refuse to go? Nothing is holding you back!"
"Because, mother, it's not something I want to do! I don't want to waste any amount of my summer on this crap." I scowled, turning around slightly to plop back on my bed, surrounded by clothes that the maid was already beginning to pack.
God . . .
My mother looks at me with wide eyes as if she heard incorrectly. "But it's your passion!"
I can't help but laugh. "It's your passion, for me!"
"Now dear, you know that's not true."
I roll my eyes and turn to the maid on my right. I close the suitcase sharply so she can't pack anymore and give her a death glare. She begins to shake.
"InuYasha Youkai! That is no way to treat anyone! You will open up that suitcase and then you will march downstairs and wait for your bus to come while Koharu finishes packing! Do you understand me?!"
I try to remember any point in my life when that tone of voice in my mother seemed intimidating.
. . .
Wait . . . still thinking . . .
"Did you hear me?!"
"Yes, mother dearest. I shall do whatever your heart desires." For some reason, I've never been able to call her mom or mother without mocking it. Obviously it's even harder for Sesshoumaru.
I trot down stairs girlishly just to piss her off.
I'm eighteen years old, and still get sent away to camp without any word in the matter. How pathetic is that?
Lucky I'm the only person on this hell hole of a bus. I must be the only one that lives in Boston. Not that I'm complaining.
At All.
. . .
I quickly slide on my headphones so they fit snuggly around my ears. I lean my head against the window gently to make sure there are no incoming road bumps to send me flying toward the glass. After I settle, I fall asleep –
Very slowly, I might add.
In the process, I begin to remember how I got into crew in the first place. There were only a few sport options at my school at the time. So I had to decide what to do. There was Tennis – something about running back and forth on a tar court in sunlight didn't seem appealing to me. Lacrosse – it was for the jocks. You know the ones, the hockey jocks. The last thing I would do was become or be called a jock. Baseball – the thought came through my mind for a little while until the coach said I needed to try pitching at tryouts and I almost knocked the umpire unconscious. So that was ruled out.
So, other than the musical (no fucking way in all hells), all that was left was crew.
At first I didn't know what crew was. But when they said things like oarsmen and boats, I began to understand. It didn't sound too bad, so I gave it a shot.
I shift upward on my bus seat, leaning my head back against the hot leather.
What I failed to tell my mother all these years was that crew was like my home. I knew the second I saw the Allen (the name of our boat in Middle School) that I was meant to row. The shear size of it, the panels, the riggers, the oarlocks, the rudder, everything about it. It sent shivers down my spine; not of fright,
But of excitement.
AN: Yo. Sorry this is so short. It'll get better, I promise. I'm sorry if I spelled anything wrong or used bad grammer. It's 7:55 in the morning right now so I'm I little out of it. But thanks for reading!
Author's Note: hem hem. Right. Anyway, just wanted to let you all know some crew lingo that might be useful for this fic . . .
Cox: The person in the bow of the boat that tells you what to do and how to do it. They see all. Cox's face the opposite direction than the rowers do. Stern: The front of the boat. Bow: The back of the boat near the cox. Starboard: People whose oars are on their left side. Ports: People whose oars are on their right side. Stern Pair: (if talking about a four seat boat) the starboard and port rowers on the stern end of the boat. Bow Pair: The starboard and port rowers on the bow end of the boat. Stroke: The seat at the very stern end of the boat. They keep an eye on where the stern end it headed and they are the leader if someone were to get out of sync with the rowing. Rigger(sp?): The contraption on the side of your seat which holds the oar in place. Never ever EVER get your head or anything stuck in the rigger. We've heard horror stories . . . Cox box: In order for the rowers to hear the cox's commands, especially the stroke, cox's are equipped with something called a cox box which is a microphone that attaches to a headband around your forehead. They have the same type of speaker headset that operators have . . . but cooler.
Commands: Commands the cox will use for rowers. On occasion, the cox might just have one person row to make sure their facing strait. Or they'll just have port side or starboard side row.
Way enough: Means stop. Row: Do I really need to explain it? At the catch: Leaning forward as far as you can to get ready to row. Back it down: Instead of starting at the catch, you start at your chest and push forward. This causes the boat to move the opposite way. Very painful to do when you row for a long time and need to suddenly back it. Feels like you're getting punched in the stomach. (Catch a) Crab: Sometimes, when you're rowing really fast, your oar will get caught under the water or on the side of a bridge or something like that. This is called a crab. When the boat is in motion, and your oar gets stuck, the end of the oar you put your hands on will come flying towards you unless you're super strong. More than once, kids get knocked in the head with oars or even thrown out of the boat. Oars In/Oars Out: Some bridges are possibly ten feet wide which is what my own school has to deal with. When you do get stuck in that kind of situation, you have to pull your oar from (not OUT) of the oar lock and into your lap so it doesn't get caught on the side of the bridge or scrape against it. The cox shouts 'oars in' and you do as told. When you are out of the bridge, (usually you glide) the cox shouts 'oars out' and you push the oar back into its original spot. All too often people get crabs from doing it. Power: Instead of easy strokes (which is normal), when you need to row fast during a race, you slow down as you come forward to the catch, but almost double the strength when you pull. This is called 'power rowing'. Typical in races. Starts: As you may or may not know, the seats in the boats slide back and forth so it's easier to row. (Makes sense when you think about it). At the start of the race, you do what's called a start. (really now.) A start consists of 5 strokes. First one, you go half way up your seat slide and row, then on the recovery, you go ¾'s of the way up your slide, ¾'s again, then you do two full strokes. From then on, you do power for the start of the race.
I will surly get a beating from my friend's if I've left out anything important. I just listed the basic stuff. Nothing really complex.
Sorry if I've confused you to the extreme. --; There's a lot more than I thought . . .
Enjoy!
Row, row, row your boat,
Gently down the stream.
Merrily, merrily, merrily, merrily,
Life is but a –
. . .
If only . . .
"No."
"Please?"
"No."
"Pleeeaaassee?!"
"Noooo!" I mock as my mother continues to try and persuade me that this is a good idea.
Fat chance of that happening.
She sighs and brings her carefully painted fingertips to her temples and rubs. She realizes the begging act isn't going to work. That only leaves one option- the 'I'm going to ground you into the floor' method.
"I don't think you understand, Inu-chan. This is a once in a lifetime opportunity! Why do you refuse to go? Nothing is holding you back!"
"Because, mother, it's not something I want to do! I don't want to waste any amount of my summer on this crap." I scowled, turning around slightly to plop back on my bed, surrounded by clothes that the maid was already beginning to pack.
God . . .
My mother looks at me with wide eyes as if she heard incorrectly. "But it's your passion!"
I can't help but laugh. "It's your passion, for me!"
"Now dear, you know that's not true."
I roll my eyes and turn to the maid on my right. I close the suitcase sharply so she can't pack anymore and give her a death glare. She begins to shake.
"InuYasha Youkai! That is no way to treat anyone! You will open up that suitcase and then you will march downstairs and wait for your bus to come while Koharu finishes packing! Do you understand me?!"
I try to remember any point in my life when that tone of voice in my mother seemed intimidating.
. . .
Wait . . . still thinking . . .
"Did you hear me?!"
"Yes, mother dearest. I shall do whatever your heart desires." For some reason, I've never been able to call her mom or mother without mocking it. Obviously it's even harder for Sesshoumaru.
I trot down stairs girlishly just to piss her off.
I'm eighteen years old, and still get sent away to camp without any word in the matter. How pathetic is that?
Lucky I'm the only person on this hell hole of a bus. I must be the only one that lives in Boston. Not that I'm complaining.
At All.
. . .
I quickly slide on my headphones so they fit snuggly around my ears. I lean my head against the window gently to make sure there are no incoming road bumps to send me flying toward the glass. After I settle, I fall asleep –
Very slowly, I might add.
In the process, I begin to remember how I got into crew in the first place. There were only a few sport options at my school at the time. So I had to decide what to do. There was Tennis – something about running back and forth on a tar court in sunlight didn't seem appealing to me. Lacrosse – it was for the jocks. You know the ones, the hockey jocks. The last thing I would do was become or be called a jock. Baseball – the thought came through my mind for a little while until the coach said I needed to try pitching at tryouts and I almost knocked the umpire unconscious. So that was ruled out.
So, other than the musical (no fucking way in all hells), all that was left was crew.
At first I didn't know what crew was. But when they said things like oarsmen and boats, I began to understand. It didn't sound too bad, so I gave it a shot.
I shift upward on my bus seat, leaning my head back against the hot leather.
What I failed to tell my mother all these years was that crew was like my home. I knew the second I saw the Allen (the name of our boat in Middle School) that I was meant to row. The shear size of it, the panels, the riggers, the oarlocks, the rudder, everything about it. It sent shivers down my spine; not of fright,
But of excitement.
AN: Yo. Sorry this is so short. It'll get better, I promise. I'm sorry if I spelled anything wrong or used bad grammer. It's 7:55 in the morning right now so I'm I little out of it. But thanks for reading!