The Convention Center’s Opening Theme? Nautical, of Course

How appropriate that the San Diego Convention Center should open with a boat show.

It fits, like opening a convention center in Kansas City with a cattle auction or a convention center in Paris with a fashion show or a convention center in Boise with a potato-tasting party.

A boat show is so nice and nautical, just like the convention center. The facility actually looks more like it was docked than built. You’re not sure whether to book it for a cruise or a convention.

When I arrived for a preview of the San Diego International Boat Show Thursday afternoon, I stopped at the media booth. I wasn’t sure whether what I had was a credential or a boarding pass, but I wanted to make sure it was in order.

“Too bad,” the woman behind the counter said. “You’re late for lunch.”

“Wait a minute,” I said. “I thought I signed up for the second seating.”

Isn’t that how it works on cruise ships?

She looked puzzled.

“You’re fine,” she said. “Go on in.”

“Thank you,” I said. “By the way, how much time do I have?”

“Time?” she asked. “Before what?”

“Before this thing leaves,” I said. “I noticed the sails are already up. I figure this thing’s out of here when they get the lifeboats up onto those A-shaped things.”

She looked puzzled.

I guess the convention center really isn’t very seaworthy after all, even though it looks as if it should be.

I was directed into what must be the convention center’s main deck, which looked as if it had swallowed an entire marina intact. The room was almost big enough to serve as a dry dock for the Constellation, which seemed to be about the only vessel missing.

Indeed, if it floated, it was on display. I expected to find that Ivory Soap had a booth. I think I did see a rubber ducky.

Because my wife and I own a 20-foot sailing vessel I have the audacity to call a yacht, I was more interested in sailboats than any of the assorted powerboats. Unfortunately, powerboats were the dominant fare. Christopher Columbus would have been appalled.

There were ski boats, bass boats, deep-sea fishing boats and pleasure cruisers, some of them big enough to accommodate the entire Charger offensive unit. The idea would be to leave port with the Charger offense and return without it, thereby improving the team.

To afford such boats, most of us would have to rush home and sell the house, car and oldest child. With all the amenities included in these yachts, such as televisions, microwave ovens, VCRs and hot tubs, you probably wouldn’t miss the house. However, I would miss the car.

The annoying jet skis were also in abundance. These, to me, are blights on water, just as motorcycles and ATVs are blights in our mountains and deserts. This is obviously personal preference, or lack thereof. Understand, I don’t like strawberries either.

To change pace, and maybe see a little more of the convention center, I went upstairs to visit an auxiliary area on one of the upper decks. To get there, I took a ride on an escalator that had to stop just this side of heaven’s gate.

This area actually looked more like a swap meet than a boat show. Displays included items such as jewelry, blenders, vacuums, knives, ovens, cook books, pressure cookers, spas, pajamas, table settings (break resistant) and New Mexico vacations. I assume the New Mexico vacations came with a map book describing what waterways will get you to Albuquerque in your cabin cruiser.

Naturally, there were items that more directly relate to boating, such as sun glasses, teak oil, portable heads, propellers and, of most importance, loans.

I was still more interested in sailing vessels, however. I was curious what I might find for what I might spend, given that there might someday come a time when my yacht sinks at its mooring.

Something called a Legend 35.5 was a marvelous craft with a comfortable interior, and a special boat show price of $73,900.

I scratched the Legend.

Then I came across the Hans Christian 38 Traditional. To me, this was the most beautiful boat on the floor. I don’t know if all that looked like wood was wood, but it certainly looked like something a banking mogul might have sailed on the Long Island Sound in the 1920s.

Without asking the price, I scratched the Hans Christian 38 Traditional.

Finally, down in a corner of the main deck I had obviously cut my first time through, I found something to fit my pocket book . . . literally and figuratively. It was called The Dink, and it might have been 10 feet long. The price was $1,095 complete with either sail or motor, and you know which one I’d take.

However, The Dink, while affordable, was not quite what I had in mind. There did not seem to be room for two people and a cooler.

I would have to settle for the yacht I have, even if my wife insists that what I have is a mere sailboat. Add some paint, and subtract some barnacles, and it would be fine. I was not planning on mounting a challenge for America’s Cup, though all that takes these days is a good attorney.

As I departed the convention center, I took one last look around. I still couldn’t be sure it would not be in some other port when I returned.