Page 90 of The Big Race
“In a heartbeat,” George confirmed.
As the evening progressed, other eliminated teams drifted in and out of the gathering. The chefs, Jenny and Carlos, did indeed seem to be avoiding each other, sitting at separate tables across the bar. The gay friends were subdued, still processing their elimination.
Around midnight, as the group began to disperse, Ernie pulled Ray and me aside.
“You know about the boat tour tomorrow, don’t you? They’ll want you two there for filming.”
“We’ll be there,” I said.
As Ray and I rode the elevator back to our room, a comfortable silence settled between us. The adrenaline of the race was finally wearing off, leaving behind a deeper sense of contentment.
“Those guys are something else,” Ray said as we got ready for bed. “We should have them visit us in Florida when this is all over.”
“Absolutely. Leo would love them.”
Ray paused, toothbrush in hand. “Do you think he’s worried about us? Leo, I mean. We’ve been gone for weeks with no contact.”
“Production would have told him we’re fine,” I assured him. “They don’t leave families completely in the dark.”
“Still, I miss him. Can’t wait to tell him about everything we’ve done.” Ray hesitated. “Everything we’ve figured out.”
I joined him at the bathroom sink, our eyes meeting in the mirror. “He’s going to be happy for us. Relieved, too, I think.”
“Yeah.” Ray rinsed his toothbrush. “So am I.”
We fell into bed, exhausted but at peace. For the first time in weeks, there was no pressure to wake up at dawn, no challenge waiting to test us, no elimination looming over our heads. Just us, finding our way back to each other in the quiet hours of the night.
The morning brought clear skies and calm waters—perfect conditions for a harbor cruise. Ernie and George were waiting in the lobby at nine, dressed in matching Vancouver Canucks hockey jerseys.
“Don’t ask,” George said before we could comment. “They were on sale in the gift shop.”
The rest of the teams showed up within minutes, and it reminded me of how we’d all been together the night before departure. Except three teams were missing, the three that were still racing.
A production crew of four, two camera operators and two sound techs, followed us to the marina where a large, sleek boat awaited. The captain, a weathered man named Jim, greeted us warmly.
“Perfect day for a tour,” he said, helping us aboard. “We’ll cruise around the harbor, pass under Lions Gate Bridge, and circle Stanley Park. If we’re lucky, we might spot some harbor seals or even orcas.”
As the boat pulled away from the dock, the four of us settled on the rear deck with cups of hot coffee. Other teams found their own places on the ship. A cameraman positioned himself discreetly nearby, capturing our conversation for what would likely become part of the show’s “where are they now” segment.
“So,” Ernie began once we were underway, “what’s next for you two when you get back to Florida?”
Ray and I exchanged glances. We’d discussed this briefly but hadn’t made any concrete plans.
“Continuing our therapy,” I said honestly. “The race gave us a jumpstart on reconnecting, but we’ve got work to do.”
“And we’re going to make time for each other, every week. Like we did when we started dating.”
“What about you guys?” I asked. “Back to garbage routes in Detroit?”
George nodded. “For now. But we’ve been talking about starting our own waste management company. The race showed us we make a damn good team, even under pressure.”
“Especially under pressure,” Ernie corrected. “Besides, after falling off those paddleboards in Panama and climbing mountains in France, dealing with Detroit trash doesn’t seem so bad.”
The boat curved around the harbor, offering spectacular views of Vancouver’s skyline against the backdrop of snow-capped mountains. The captain pointed out landmarks as we passed—Canada Place with its iconic sails, the historic Gastown district, the lush expanse of Stanley Park stretching out before us.
“It’s funny,” I said as we glided under Lions Gate Bridge, the massive structure casting momentary shadows over us. “A month ago, we were all strangers competing against each other. Now look at us.”
“Race family,” George said simply.
