Last year, before we had our honeymoon plans set in stone, Joel was showing me the satellite images of the harbor of Monaco during the Monaco Grand Prix and it was yachts on yachts on yachts. It’s kind of expected at one of the most prestigious sports gatherings in the world. When we “just so happened” to be in the neighborhood back in May, I made it a point to get invited onto one of those GD boats. Did I succeed?! You bet your sweet ass I did…
After watching the practice races in the early afternoon, we ran into some sweet Brits who told us that we had to go down to the marina when the race was over to witness the crazy parties. “Alright, alright, alright” we said in our best Matthew McConaughey accents, “we’ll do just that”.
We walked along the dock and were amazed to see that, so early in the evening, the parties on board most of the yachts were already in full swing. I walked a little ahead of my brand new husband so people wouldn’t think we were actually together. We (me*) were immediately beckoned onto a boat filled with hilarious drunk Australians dancing the night away, then onto one with about 8 dudes and a Mexican Flag blowing in the wind. As we walked, we met two fellow American 20 somethings who shared our goal for the night. We teamed up with Russ and Ross (*real names? idk), who, with Joel, pretended to be a part of my entourage. Some nice elderly Swedish bros let us right onto their boat, no questions asked! After I got yelled at for jumping over something fragile and we were not offered any beverages, we all decided to try our luck elsewhere.
Because of my South Texas roots, the boat with the Mexican flag seemed like our best bet, but when we walked by, all of the guys on board had disappeared. Our new friends told me to just go for it, so I shrugged my shoulders and oomphed my hair and went for it. I, all alone, walked onto a 60 ft yacht filled with a bunch of strangers.
I walked right on that boat like I fucking owned it. I went right up to each gentleman and casually kissed him on each cheek like I was the fanciest girl in the world. We small talked and drank together and 5 minutes later, Joel joined us. The look of disappointment on the faces of the yacht owners was only really noticeable when the rest of our new gang showed up. 1 girl to 11 guys was not an ideal ratio, apparently. We took our beers and exchanged quick and slightly awkward goodbyes to rejoin the 99%.
Tips for sneaking onto a yacht (in any country)
- have boobs
- having blonde hair probably doesn’t hurt
- just walk right on and say something like “this isn’t where I parked my car”