18 months ago, I quit my job, sold all my possessions, and decided to buy a sailboat.  It was the hardest decision I’ve ever made and it took me almost a year before I finally built up enough courage to take the leap.  I’ve had a handful of friends over the past few months ask what that process is like.  Instead of giving mediocre responses to each of them, I decided to spend some time ruminating on it, and I put together a guide (of sorts) describing the process I went through.  This guide is aimed at people like me: educated twenty-something, a few years out of college, building a career, making good money, etc.  If you don’t fit that mold, hopefully you can still glean some insight out of it.  
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Step 1: Save Some Moolah
A lot of people are complete dumb-asses when it comes to managing money.  My parents were fairly frugal as I was growing up and they gave me enough education to understand and control my spending.  This doesn’t appear to be the norm, so I’ll try and impart some of the mindset that has allowed me to live off of savings for a couple years.

A lot of people in the US complain about not having enough money to “make ends meet”, but a lot of people in the US also have $600 smartphones, buy bottled water every day, and pay a hundred bucks a month for TV subscriptions that rots their brains.  Over the course of my travels, I’ve met and talked with people that live on a couple of dollars a day.  Lots of these people are totally satisfied with their lives.  When you examine the lives of “poor” people in the US through the lens of people that are truly poor, you find that they’re actually living like kings.  It is this perspective that sets you free.

If you’re constantly comparing yourself to pop culture icons and professional athletes, your hunger and consumption will be insatiable.  This is what modern media and marketing work towards in the US.  If you compare yourself with a Chinese farmer or a Chilean fisherman, you’re suddenly living a life of tremendous excess.  If you’re serious about saving money, this change in perspective will help you re-evaluate your spending.  Eventually you’ll realize that most of the things you “needed” to buy were really just things that you “wanted” to buy.

A good place to start is your bank statement.  Take a real look at where your money goes!  How much do you spend a month at coffee shops?  How much is your cell phone bill?  What do you spend every year on gas for your car?  Do these financial expenditures bring you proportional amounts of happiness?  Fulfillment?  Add all these figures up and make pie charts and really wrap your head around where all of your money goes.  A couple of dollars a day add up to substantial amounts of money over the course of a year.  Is your Diet Coke habit really worth 4% of your income?

Once you have a good understanding of where your money goes, you can start making decisions on where you can spend less.  Maybe you’ll move into a smaller apartment.  Maybe you’ll sell a bunch of the clothes you bought on a whim.  Maybe you’ll trade your car in for an older one or start riding a bike to work.  Try to cut out all of the expenses that don't truly enrich your life!  These are the parts that won’t be fun or easy, but they’re also the parts that will enable you to live your dream in the end.  Find a balance between austerity and happiness and don’t lose sight of the light at the end of the tunnel.

Easy for you to say, you’re probably thinking.  White, male, well educated, healthy, etc.  Fair enough.  I’ve definitely had a lot of advantages in life. 

But you’re fooling yourself if you think you can’t achieve some financial independence.  Maybe you’re even cheating yourself.  Because if you truly want something bad enough, and you exercise enough will power and hard work, you can get it.  The only obstacle to your financial freedom is your own mindset.  

Step 2: Make a Plan
You’ve got to make sure you’ve got a legit parachute before you jump out of the plane.  Quitting your job with just the vague notion that you’re going to “travel the world!” or “ride a bike to India!” would be a pretty rash move.  You should do some serious research, develop a budget, come up with a timeline, and really know what you’re getting yourself into. 

The internet is goddamn incredible.  People have done pretty much anything you can imagine, and they’ve blogged about it.  There are so many inspirational stories out there.  Read books, send emails, and learn as much as you can about your new life.  People are always eager to share their experiences, so take advantage of that.  You need to try and understand the nuances of what your new life will be like.

The next step is cracking open a spreadsheet to figure out the financial realities of your dream.  What will your living expenses look like?  Will you have any residual income from investments?  How much does food cost in Tibet?  How many kilometers can your motorcycle go on a liter of fuel?  How much will health insurance cost?  Will you have a monthly cell phone bill?  What is rent on a beach cabana in Costa Rica?

Chances are, your new life is going to be totally different financially from your old life, so there will definitely be some guesstimating and back-of-the-napkin calculations.  Do your best, but be realistic.  Based on all of these costs, figure out either how much you need to save, or how long you’ll be able to unplug.  Plan to have some cushion money stashed away for your return back into the world of work in case it takes a while to get a job again.  

Once you know roughly how long you’ll be gone, give yourself some milestones – things you want to accomplish and a date to accomplish them by.  This will all depend on your goals.  My initial milestones involved buying a boat and learning to sail and eventually evolved to things like sailing to the Sea of Cortez before hurricane season and arriving in Chile before winter set in. It’s important to stay motivated and focused, because it’ll be all too easy to just veg and relax once you’re not working every day. 

If at all possible, try to get a real taste of the life you’re contemplating.  Take some vacation time to crew on a cruising sailboat.  Spend a few weeks hiking the PCT.  Sign up for a yoga retreat in Thailand.  Make sure you truly enjoy what you’re planning to do, as opposed to just enjoying the idea of it.  I didn’t actually do this to be honest, but it seems like solid advice (haha).

Alright – you’ve thrown some money in the ole piggy bank, you’ve built a rock solid plan, and you’re getting ready to burst at the hinges with excitement.  What’s next?

Step 3: Retire with Tact
Everyone around you probably thinks you’re going to keep busting your ass until age 65 before taking a break.  Your boss, your friends, and your family are probably all making plans based on this assumption, so when you break the news you’ve got to do it gently and hope they’re supportive instead of angry for “changing the plan”. 

What you’re doing isn’t “normal”, so people won’t necessarily understand or agree with the decisions you’re making.  The research you’ve done, the plan you’ve developed, and your realistic budget should help to persuade your friends and family that you haven’t totally lost your marbles.  If they truly love you and care about your happiness they’ll support you and help you succeed.  You are in charge of your life.  You can’t let other people’s opinion’s dictate your happiness.  

As far as your job goes - I figured the best route would be working really hard before departing and being really open and honest with my boss. This has the benefit of making for a less awkward conversation when you resign and also leaving a good taste in your employers’ mouth if you wind up needing a job again in a year or two.  Giving short notice or leaving before an important project / deadline is obviously a bad idea and chances are it will come back to bite you.

It took me a long time to build up the courage to actually hand in my resignation.  It can be a really, really scary thing and the finality of it is resounding.  After you quit, there is no going back.  It’s the build up to taking that step that is the hardest part, without a doubt.  I was lucky enough to have a few friends as role models, and they gave me the confidence and support I needed to go for it.  If you’ve managed to make enough money to quit working for a while, you’re probably going to be leaving some money on the table (impending raises / bonuses / etc) when you go, which obviously makes it even harder.  You’ve got to take a step back, however, and think of all the experiences you’re not having as you continue to amass your savings.  You can’t put a price on your time.  

Once you grow the balls to quit, it’s all downhill from there.  Deep down inside, everyone is thinking (or has thought) about doing something like this and when they see you doing it, a little piece of them rejoices and they applaud you.  It’s like a switch has flipped and the entire universe is conspiring to help you towards your goal.  People will come out of the woodwork to lend advice, or introduce a contact, or just give you a pat on the butt when you need it.  Knowing that it will get easier definitely makes it easier to take the big step.  Don’t be afraid to throw a big “retirement” party to thank folks and provide a symbolic end point to your old life.  

Step 4: Live the Dream
This is the easy part.  Go out and put your plan into action!  The first few weeks are kind of a rush as the truth of your new life sinks in.  You’ll end up with some growing pains somewhere along the way, so try to remain flexible.  It’s good to leave your plans a bit open ended as you adjust to realities that might be a bit different from your plan.  The most important thing, in the end, is to have fun, and enjoy yourself.  If you find that you need to alter your plans to realize the dream that you envisioned, leave yourself the flexibility to do that.  

Take plenty of pictures and make sure you don’t forget to sit back and smell the roses occasionally.  Try to include your friends and family in your plans, as sharing your adventures always makes them sweeter and more memorable.  It might be important to you to break away from your old life, but don’t lose touch with the things from your past that are important to you.

Step 5: Reap the Benefits
Each adventure will teach each individual something different.  I’ll describe my experience to give you some idea of what you’ll get out of it in the end.  I chose cruising on a sailboat for a number of reasons.  A sailboat seemed like it would allow me to explore some beautiful parts of the world.  I figured it would challenge me and stretch me beyond my comfort zone.  I also reckoned that it would reduce my impact on the world around me.  These precepts have all proven true over the course of the last year and a half, but there have been other benefits as well. 

You frequently hear people saying how unhealthy it is to be constantly stressed out.  I’ve always quietly figured it was true, but it has also seemed like a bit of an abstraction.  How, specifically, would my well being improve if all my worries melted away?  After making a fairly abrupt change from a stressful job (though not nearly as stressful as most of my friends’) to a really slow-paced, relaxed lifestyle, I can honestly say that there is a night-and-day difference.

When I sailed away from the dock I immediately started losing weight and feeling healthier.  I used to come down with a cold or something every 3-4 months and in the last 18 months, I only got sick once and that was only after a long stint of too much partying and eating in some pretty sketchy Mexican food stands.  I can dedicate as much time as I want to exercise and without a car I end up walking much more than I used to.

I think my mental health has improved as well.  My sense of self-worth used to be really closely tied to my job performance and I found I’d get really frustrated and anxious if things weren’t going according to plan (even if it was totally beyond my control).  I’ve learned a lot about what really matters to me out here and I think I’m a more confident, balanced person because of that. 

My mind is free to wander when I’m out on the open sea and I’ve had the chance ponder lots of things that I never would’ve taken the time to consider when I was working full time.  I’ve spent a lot of time reading and new ideas that I picked up along the way have evolved my view of the world to a large degree.  

I’ve met some fantastic people during this voyage and built some friendships that I really treasure.  Most cruisers you run into are really warm and welcoming, and I’m sure I’ll keep in touch with them for years to come.  There is a lot that you can learn from living in foreign countries and when I eventually head back to the states, I’ll have a different perspective, for sure.  There are some really messed up, backwards things happening in the states and I worry about what my native country will look like by the time I’m 60 years old.  

I’ve been lucky enough to have several friends and family come down to visit me over the course of the last 18 months.  There is nothing quite like spending a week or two on a 30ft boat to really bond with someone.  I’ve built memories and relationships that are so much richer than they would have been with the occasional long weekend back in the states.  

Sailing across oceans in a small sailboat teaches you a lot of skills.  There are obviously the hard skills, like learning to be a diesel mechanic, an electrician, or a navigator.  But more important than these hard skills are the intangibles that build within you along the way.  It took a long time to cultivate my will power, manage my fear, and focus my concentration enough to convince myself it was a good idea to cross the South Pacific in a 30 ft boat.  Perhaps I already had an excess of confidence, but the sense of independence I’ve gained seems invaluable as well.

I tried to think on a pretty grand scale when I was hatching my plans for this voyage, and I truly wasn’t sure if I’d be able to make it to Chile.  I haven’t let on to many people, but there have been times along the way where I came really close to giving up and there have been times along the way when I’ve been truly scared.  In looking back on these last 18 months, it is exactly those experiences that have helped me grow the most. 

Go big, you won’t regret it.    

I'm totally free right now.  Free to do whatever I want, whenever I want.  Nobody is depending on me for anything.  I don't have any bills to pay.  I don't have any job to get up for in the morning.  If I want to go explore a deserted island, I can go and do it.  If I dig into a good book, I can lay around and read all day.  My life is entirely my own and that's an incredible feeling. 

There is a stretch of water in the far south of Mexico called the Gulf of Tehuantepec.  Most of Mexico is very mountainous, but the land that adjoins the "T-pec" is mostly low sand dunes.  Thus, all of the trade winds that blow throughout the Caribbean and the Gulf tend to funnel through this 100 mile stretch of dunes and accelerate out into the Gulf of T-pec.  The gales created by this phenomenon are called Tehuante-peckers* and are notorious for their exceptionally high winds, frequently exceeding 60 knots.  These Tehuante-peckers will often blow for as long as a week or two before a weather window opens up to allow for a safe crossing of the 200 mile wide gulf.  
*I didn't just make this up, people actually call them that.

About a week ago, I was looking through my pilot charts (charts that show the average wind direction, speed, currents, etc) for the voyage south.  I was specifically curious about the T-pec and, after scanning a bunch of other pilot charts, I realized that it was statistically the most dangerous stretch of my voyage between Washington and Chile.  I didn't expect this result and it got me thinking.  

For the last year, I've been planning to explore Central America on my way down to Chile, with stops in El Salvador, Nicaragua, and Costa Rica.  I know that this is a beautiful stretch of coastline and I'll be able to meet up with a bunch of friends, likely spending a lot of time on the beach drinking beer and generally having fun.  But there has been something nagging at me from the depths of my subconscious for the last few months as well.  

I've been sailing around in Mexico since June.  It has been beautiful, relaxing, and delicious, but it hasn't been challenging, new, or mentally stimulating.  At the outset of this trip, I felt constantly challenged by navigation and I was learning new skills every day.  During my time in Mexico, I feel like I've slowly been stagnating.  

Thus, I've made the decision to cut the Central America portion out of my trip and take a much more direct route to get to Chile.  With this plan, I'll sail directly from Southern Mexico to the Galapagos (1000 miles to the south which ought to take me about two weeks).  From there I'll sail directly to Easter Island (2000 mile to the south west, 3-4 weeks) and from there directly to Puerto Montt, Chile (2000 mile to the south east, 3-4 weeks).  I feel fortunate to have the freedom to make such a major change like this.

This new route has a number of advantages:
1) It will save me time - instead of 7-8 months more sailing, I'll hopefully complete the rest of the voyage to Chile in 3-4 months.
2) It will save me money - I would've spent a lot of cash goofing off in Central America for months on end.
3) It will allow me to reach Chile before winter arrives in the Southern Hemisphere - I won't lie, I've been looking at pictures of people back home skiing pow and its slowly killing me.  I can't wait to spend a winter in Chile.  
4) It's a safer time of year to make each of these passages - there are fewer incidences of high winds and gales in the southern ocean before the winter months.  

Most of the passages I've made thus far have only been a couple hundred miles, so these longer passages will be an interesting test.  I'll need to manage food and provisioning for extended periods.  I´ll need to keep the boat moving in the right direction for weeks on end, without help from anyone else.  I'll likely run into some nasty weather along the way and there will be no port where I can stop and hide.  These are all risks that I'm ready to accept and I'm confident that I have the proper skills, knowledge, and equipment to make the sail safely and in good style.  

While I'm away from land, I'll have contact with my brother via sat-text for weather routing and he'll be able to update my location-tracking page as well.  If you're interested, you'll be able to follow my progress day-by-day as I inch my way south towards the promised land.  

Thus begins the next chapter in the Voyage of the Rascal.  I'll give ya'll an update when I get to the Galapagos!

We woke up with the sunrise and after we had finished our bacon and eggs, a light southerly breeze greeted us.  It wasn't much, but it was consistent, and we hoisted the spinnaker and found that we were making three and a half knots.  Good enough, we figured, to take us where we needed to go. 

The day passed in a similar manner to the day before it, and the day before that.  I swung in my hammock on the back deck and read my book.  Nothing much was said on days like these and we were free to gaze out across the water, contemplate the scenery, and let the boat sail itself.  I looked down into the water for a while with the sun at my back and watched as it shimmered a deep navy blue color.  There were layers and folds in it, and it looked as if it was producing its own light.

Most days we'd catch 3 or 4 fish as we were sailing along, but it was already mid afternoon and we hadn't even had a nibble.  "That's odd," I thought, "I wonder where all the fish are..." We were passing close to a point of land and an up-welling in the seafloor that might bring nutrients to the surface.  I reckoned that there must've been hundreds of fish swimming somewhere down below me in that shimmering water.  "Oh well," I said to myself, "Might as well finish this chapter before we get to the anchorage."

The handline took off like a rocketship.  Often times it starts with an aggressive spin and then slowly calms down, but this one was different.  My heart started beating faster and I put a hand on the spindle to try and slow it down a bit.  As I did, I looked up towards the horizon and scanned for signs of a jump.  Normally a dorado will spend some time with jumping antics when it first gets hooked.  This fish wasn't spending time doing anything but running.  The pressure I put on the spool didn't seem to phase him and the spool was starting to burn my hand.  

"This is big," I told Autumn, "maybe even bigger than that one dorado I caught with Wade.  Could you grab my gloves?"  Was I full of shit?  Maybe he wasn't so big and he was just running hard.  "I guess we'll find out," I figured in my head.  Out of the corner of my eye, I saw something dark break the water.  Definitely wasn't a dorado, but too far away to make any guesses about what he might be.

I finally got the pair of gloves on, and still he was running.  "I wonder if the big bastard even knows hes hooked..." I was able to put pressure on him more evenly with the gloves on, and I started to sock it to him.  I looked down at the spool.  "He must've taken at least two hundred yards already," I reckoned from the dwindling amount remaining. Eventually his run slowed down and Autumn dropped the jib and maneuvered the boat so that I could try and work him from the side deck instead of having to deal with all the clutter around the cockpit.  The tension in the line was high, but I managed to get a few feet of it back.  He didn't like that one bit and took off running again.  The boat was pitching around in the swell, and it was tough to keep a solid stance to work him from.  After running another 30 yards or so, he broke the surface of the water and I saw something I hadn't ever seen before.  A bill.

"You see that thing?" I yelled at Autumn.  "Nope," she answered as she continued to maneuver the boat.  "He's got a bill on him," I hollered back to her.  She responded with an excited giggle.  He was maybe 250 yards away at that point, and it was tough to gauge how big he might be.  Maybe around 3 or 4 feet?  Tough to say, but man was he fighting.

The sweat was starting to build on my brow, and I kept fighting him, slowly taking line in whenever he would give it up.  Water was jumping from the taut line like crazy and I knew that I was right on the edge of snapping it the whole time.  Inch by inch, I worked him in closer to the boat and I noticed that he was diving down deep in the water as I pulled him towards the boat.  Perhaps fifteen minutes of this tug of war match continued and I managed to win 70 or 80 yards of line back.  He must've gotten a wild hair, because the line started rising again, and I could tell he was heading up for a jump.  "Maybe he wants to get a peek at us," I speculated silently to myself.  Autumn had the camera ready this time, and as he broke the water, we both gasped.

"Sheeeeeit!" I yelled, "He's bigger than I thought!"  He was still a little more than 100 yards away and I revised my earlier mental estimate to 5 feet.  Getting some fresh air must've invigorated him, because the tug of war match got more intense.  He put in a few strong runs, followed by a couple lulls where I was able to bring line in.  He stayed near the surface for a while and started making zig zags every time he would speed away from the boat.

I looked over towards Autumn.  We were both still wide-eyed.  "Do you think its even possible to land a fish like this?  The handline is only 40lb test.  That might be the only good look we ever get at him," I reasoned.  She shrugged her shoulders, but gave me a look that instilled confidence in my angling skills.  "Better get the gaff out just in case," I told her.  I could feel my hands starting to tire from gripping the handline, but I knew this was no time to take a break.  Each wrap brought him that much closer to the boat, and as he got closer, he started swimming sideways to the boat, sliding his way around the port side, then the starboard, and then back around to port.  Each time he passed a rigging wire, I'd have to transfer the spool between hands, and I was mighty nervous that I might drop it.  

I managed to keep the pressure on him, however, and about 45 minutes into the fight I got him to within 50 yards of the boat.  I could tell he was starting to tire, with slower runs, and a bit less vigor.  The line started rising to the surface and again he jumped, and this time he really took to the air.  The spray leaped off him and he cleared the water entirely, with a mighty thrash of his tail and a fearsome shake of his bill.  There was no mistaking that he was a monster.

I continued to take in line, and each time he got close to the surface i was afraid he would throw the hook and all would be for naught.  Somehow it stayed caught in his mouth and I could tell the battle was drawing to a close.  When he was just 20 yards from the boat he kept sticking his head out of the water and shaking his bill, and each time I hoped against hope that the hook wouldn't bend and the line wouldn't snap.

You could see his body now, and you could tell that he was a girthy creature, with a dark purplish blue back and shining silver sides.  "How are we going to land this thing?" Autumn asked, "Is it dangerous to get him on the boat?"  I immediately answered, "We'll gaff him and pull him up, I'm sure it'll all be fine," but in the back of my mind, I started wondering about the wisdom of such a plan.  I had heard a few weeks before of a marlin that had literally stabbed a hole in the hull of a boat with his bill.  "I better be damn careful," I thought to my self.  

I knew it would be really difficult to try and land him into the cockpit, so I slowly worked him around to the side of the boat.  When I finally got him in close, you could tell he was exhausted.  I was blown away that he still hadn't broken the line, and I managed to maneuver him over to the port beam.  Once he came alongside it was finally clear just how massive he was.  He easily took up a third of the length of the boat.

He gave a few final thrashes beside the boat and I called to Autumn for the gaff.  My hands were trembling with excitement and adrenaline.  He looked up at me with his big dark eyes and gave me a look of obstinance, but he knew he was defeated.  I knew the final moment was here.  His body came around broadside and I gingerly slipped the gaff into the meat of his big back.  He didn't make any sign of noticing this, and with a grunt and yank, I managed to hoist him up onto the fore deck of the Rascal.

We both stepped back for a moment to stare at this incredible fish.  I couldn't believe how enormous he was.  He didn't even fit on the front of the sailboat.  I was stunned.  His body caught the sunlight and violet spots glimmered, with bright blue accents on his fins.  His massive dorsal sail was extended and it was covered in iridescent spots, seawater splashing off of it.  Truly an incredible, downright gorgeous beast.  

I bent down to remove the hook, and it slipped right out of the corner.  I knew that Autumn and I couldn't possibly eat a fish this big, and after such a valiant fight, I felt that he deserved to return to the sea that was his home.  

I couldn't help but document an occasion this monumental, so I half-hoisted, half-bearhugged his hundred pound, nine foot long body up for some pictures.  This was no easy task.

That accomplished, I lowered him back down on the deck, gave him a pat on the tail, and slid him back into the sea.  

I sat down on the front hatch, completely in shock of what had just happened.  Some people pay thousands of dollars to go out on sport fishing day trips and I had managed to land this big, beautiful sailfish with a 5 dollar handline and a .69 cent rubber squid from the deck of my home.  I read "The Old Man and the Sea" when I was a little kid, and ever since then, I've wondered what it would be like to really catch a massive fish.  Surely Don Rodrigo the Magnificent wasn't quite as big as the fish Hemingway describes, but he surely was enormous and every bit as beautiful.  

I reckon he is the finest fish I'll ever catch.    

It was a sweltering La Paz evening: warm and sunny, like always.  I couldn’t even sit down without sweating.  A thought came to me that had been circulating in my mind ever since I crossed the Mexican border: it’s time to turn this beard into a mustache. 

I haven’t seen my chin since 2010, back when I was racing dune buggies in South Carolina.  Given the crowd that naturally gravitates to dune buggy racing, it only seemed appropriate to sport a mullet and some face-furniture.

Since those fateful days, my beard and I have spent some really good times together, engaging in numerous noble adventures and I would be sad to see it go.  I knew there was only one appropriate way for my beard to depart from this world: a traditional, full-fledged Viking burial.  Construction immediately began on a Viking warship, with huge timbers hewn from the finest mahogany and teak.  I'm no expert shipwright, but I think I managed to assemble a craft that even Eric the Red would've been impressed by.

I've been hanging out with a couple of Aussie blokes down here and my friend Hamish was on board (pun intended) to convert his whiskers into a nose-neighbor, as well.  He decided that he couldn't wait for the longship to dry and dove into the manscaping with reckless abandon.  In a few short minutes, he had a crumb-catcher that would've made Pancho Villa proud.

In the meantime, we did some fishing and Hamish managed to catch the biggest shark we’d ever seen in La Paz harbor.  It was a real monster.  

After another Tecate or two, Brett and Haylee showed up and we decided it was time to deconstruct my beard.  A short funeral ensued, during which time I saw fit to say a few words.  

Poseidon or La Virgen de Guadaloupe must've been listening, because a glorious double rainbow was immediately painted across the sky with a sunset backdrop.  If thats not a good omen, I don't know what is.

Slowly and surely, we loaded my poor beard into the viking ship and eventually my mustache was born.  Brett and Hamish prepared to launch the ship, and since none of us felt comfortable shooting flaming spear guns in the crowded harbor, we decided to revert to some dinghy gas to get 'er fired up.  After living on a boat for so long, its also possible that the beard itself was flammable, because it burst into flames in a hurry.

The reception to my mustache (surprisingly) has been mixed.  All of the retired cruisers around La Paz give it an enthusiastic thumbs-up.  The lovely Mexican maidens I’ve encountered around town visibly swoon as soon as they catch sight of it.  Every mustached hombre I encounter gives a nod of approval.  The dogs of La Paz, however, have all barked and bristled as I stroll past.  I can’t blame them, of course, I’d feel threatened too.