Boat Safety begins not with oars, but with determination and courage. Each vessel, port and starboard, must be deemed seaworthy. Each sailor in aforementioned vessels employ must be judged by a court of the deep seas as being buoyant and intrepid. For every barnacle accounted, there must be a jib, pulley, and aft. When the nigh winds howl at ye wooden leg, a boat safety expert must welome them not with merely a grimace, but a defiant scowl, your good eye glistening with the grit of the anticipation of battle. To safely maneuver a boat from one channel to another strait, from these waters to those shores, from bay to bight to tomorrow’s evanescent anchorage, a true practitioner of boat safety must muster an unparalleled depth of knowledge of all things life preserver, choke, and mast. Unto each sail, may ye flap in safe waters, and unto each mooring may ye sway in safe harbor, for where the creed of boat safety travels, thereunto all men shall be safe boating.
Night is when the lone wolf howls. Night is when the mist rolls in. Night is when the freaks, ever fearful of the sun’s rays, make their long awaited appearance. Night is when the glitterati throw confetti at the paparazzi on the piazza.
Fully stocked with more fun than you could shake a live eel at, the bazaar is reminiscent of your first night in Istanbul, aged 18, slightly drunk on ouzo, reeling with delight in the world that you didn’t have a care in. Between various vendors, aggregate epicureans, recreational revelers, myriad musicians, and a phalanx of fans, the Brooklyn Night Bazaar captures the essence of an eastern shuk dressed in the sheen hip of a borough rave.