The story of how I almost went under the bridge:

Shortly after the 1989 SF earthquake, I had 4 (and sometimes) 5 roommates in a Westlake Village 2 bedroom, just over the SF border into Daly City.  One of my roommates, Francis, had a family friend w/ a 36" yacht they docked across the bay at the Oakland waterfront docks.  Francis took care of the boat for them, kept it cleanly, waxed it, kept the supplies stocked and then often slept on it when he understandably got tired of sleeping in a living room w/ 3 or 4 other dudes.  We all planned a Saturday, sailing w/ him to Angel Island and around Alcatraz and then out to the Golden Gate Bridge and maybe beyond.  For whatever reason, none of our other roommates could actually go when it came to the day so just Francis and I went.  I had been sailing maybe 7-10 times with our across the street neighbor Stan so I knew the basics as a 'first mate' but would never call myself a sailor.  We headed out, pointed towards Alcatraz on a bright, windy morning thinking 'wow, these are the things rich people can do whenever they want' as I listened to Francis call out orders of which side to shift to and which ropes to let out or draw in.  Easy peasy.

It took forever to tack (zigzag) against the wind blowing at us and by lunchtime we were exhausted and decided to pull in to Angel Island to eat quickly (you need a day pass to dock for more than 15 minutes)   Sailboats don't exactly have brakes and the winds weren't helpful so we approached the docks at what was probably full on sprinting speed, the dockmaster yelling WOAH WOAH WOAH at us.  We slid up the dock higher than I thought possible, full eye contact with a horrified dockmaster and then slid back, docked, and then justifiably got yelled at by the dockmaster for a full 5 minutes.

Lunch eaten, back onboard, we headed for the GG bridge and ocean beyond.  This is where I called my parents from Francis' huuuuge brick sized cellular telephone.  The first one I think I had used at that point and definitely the first call I ever made from a vessel on water.

The winds were now stronger, the choppy waves a good 5" high as we did a loop around Alcatraz.  Ok.  On to the bridge.  The winds now even stronger, the waves 6-8", Francis and I looking at each other like "damn, this isn't as fun as the first part".  Halfway to the bridge, everything became more intense.  Avoiding oncoming boats, riding up and down big swells, fighting with ropes that pull fast when the wind hits the main sail, trying to hear Francis' directions above the wind. The sky seemed darker now and the ocean felt much deeper and more real.  We headed at a large wave trying to hit it head on, to ride high over it.  Instead, the bow of the boat disappeared beneath the wave and so did Francis.  My jaw dropped, sitting at the back on the boat, one hand on the rudder, another on the sail lines.  The boat came through the wave, Francis flopped around at midship, trying to get onto his feet when the bow disappeared again beneath another wave, with Francis completely engulfed again.  He came back up, grabbed for whatever lines or railings he could reach and then ... disappeared again beneath a third wave.  Time slowed down and I then had about 200 individual thoughts.  Top three: 1. oh my god, my friend is dead or will be once I see him float away behind me.  2. I am never going to be able to sail this thing back.  3. that is, if the boat doesn't fill with water or capsize first.   Thank all powers that be, he rose through the water, the wave washing half off the boat, half into the cabin below and he sprinted back towards the cabin, shivering and said "sail us back towards Oakland, i have to change clothes"  (avg temp of SF bay 45°-55°).
As soon as I did and the sails caught wind, fully at our back, we outraced any waves that had been slamming into us previously. More than halfway back to Oakland, Francis came back up from the cabin and we recounted our versions of horror and laughed where we could and I think, both probably cried a little inside from fear and joy.

We went from memorable-fun-day to potential-tragedy-to-never-forget to .. ordeal-averted-memory to recount in a far too long email.   : )  post.