Family Ties, Just For Fun, Marriage, PSAs

My Boat Capsized and All I Got Was This Tiny T-Shirt

“I can’t wait to rent a boat in Long Island!” my first husband, Peppermeister, said several times before we headed east last week.

Once again, my aunt and uncle were generously letting us stay in their vacation home for our anniversary. We had fond memories of relaxing bay side, playing mini golf and binge drinking waterfront dining.

The house was just as we’d left it. (BUT NOT FOR LONG! STAY TUNED FOR PART TWO OF MY VACATION ADVENTURES!)

“Let’s scope out this place, The Station,” Peppermeister said. “They serve food and rent boats.”

More importantly, they serve Tröegs on tap.
More importantly, they serve Tröegs on tap.

While recreating one of the menu photos…

LongIsland-TheStation-photo-reenactment

…we noticed an entertaining boat name:

LongIsland-TheStation-Butthead
I swear on snot rockets and turd buckets, this detail becomes important later.

“Do you think that’s the boat they rent?” I asked.

“Nah, that one’s too nice,” Peppermeister replied. “They probably rent those.”

He pointed to the glorified row boats on either side of Butthead. I quickly let go of my mai tai drinking, bow bathing fantasies.

“We’ll come back on Monday – the weather’s supposed to be beautiful.”

And the weather finally WAS beautiful, on Wednesday. The young man preparing our boat barely put down his sandwich to attach the motor. Knowing nothing about boats, I brushed off my first thought: “Is that from a lawn mower?”

At 10:15am, we were finally ready to hit the open seas Shinnecock Bay.

LongIsland-boat-ready-to-go

In between bites, our boat hand, who shall henceforth be referred to as “Boris,” explained where to fish for fluke, and gave us a map with the emergency phone numbers on it.

What's that? This paper looks like it got wet? Huh. Spoiler alert.
What’s that? This paper looks like it got wet? Huh. Spoiler alert!

We didn’t even make it out of the marina before the motor stalled and we drifted into sand. We shoved ourselves off with our one sturdy oar, and Peppermeister got us going again.

The weather was so flawless, I paid little mind to the hiccup.

Wheeee! We must be going 2.3 knots, by now!
Wheeee! We must be going 2.3 knots by now! Surely we’ll never need those life jackets!

We cruised steadily west while Peppermeister grabbed a beer and we tried to pick out our own marina.

LongIsland-boat-Peppermeister-beer
Hey, did you leave the porch light on?

About 45 minutes into our cruise, the motor cut out again.

LongIsland-boat-not-starting

When it happened for the third time, we Peppermeister spent 20 minutes trying to start it.

“I’m just going to call the guy to come get us. This is a waste of time.” He fished out his cell phone from the Ziploc bag in his backpack.

Here’s a summary of how that went down:

“Landmarks? …Yes, there are buildings nearby! THERE ARE HOUSES EVERYWHERE!”

“We’re IN THE DUNES. DRIVE by the DUNES.”

“WE’RE DUE SOUTH OF TIANA BAY! DUE SOUTH! We’re IN the DUNES on the OTHER SIDE of the BAY. We’ve DRIFTED SINCE WE HAVE NO ANCHOR AND ONE OAR!”

“Like I said, we’re to the LEFT OF THE BRIDGE. DUE SOUTH OF TIANA BAY. We’re THE ONLY BOAT HERE.”

I tried to help, too.

LongIsland-boat-fail-SOS

One hour and five phone calls later, Boris arrived in none other than…

Butthead!

LongIsland-boat-Butthead-to-the-rescue

He, of course, managed to get our motor going, and told us to follow him back. The motor stalled a minute later, and it took him three minutes to notice we weren’t following. He circled back to tow us.

He tangled up his lines in his motor, and then attached one line to the front of our boat.

“He’s doing it wrong,” Peppermeister muttered. “You’re supposed to tow with two lines.”

We lurched forward, and Boris started swerving Butthead left to right, right to left, while we tipped from side to side in our boat.

LongIsland-boat-towing
I should probably say something.

I leaned forward and backward in the opposite direction of his swerving, trying to keep the boat level.

About halfway to the marina, the water grew increasingly choppy, as did Boris’s driving, and gallons of water sloshed into our boat. We tried bailing it out with our one bucket, a bleach bottle with the bottom cut out.

Peppermeister whistled loudly. Boris, who’d never once looked back to check on us, raised his eyebrows in mild surprise.

“Every time you turn, more water comes in! We’ve been trying to empty it this whole time!” Peppermeister shouted. “Will this boat sink?”

“No,” he replied, and kept driving, staring straight ahead.

Titanic-orchestraThe water rushed past our calves, almost as high as the seats.

Peppermeister whistled again and Boris stood there gawking.

Everything next happened in slow motion.

Peppermeister yelled, “You need to get off!”

With my brain still saying, “This boat’s not actually SINKING,” I grabbed our precious cargo -the backpack- and held it above my head. Suddenly, half the boat was under water. Good call on the Ziploc bags. As it capsized, my left leg got pinned beneath, allowing me to appreciate its sturdiness. Wow. No. I kicked off my flip-flops and paddled away, shouting,

“Here! The backpack! Get it on Butthead! Get it on Butthead!”

Because I’d be DAMNED if I was losing my cell phone and car keys over this little snafu.

Peppermeister threw the backpack at Boris, who let it hit his chest and slide to the floor. I swam for a second or two, watching the contents of the boat drift south (due south! Of Tiana Bay! Towards the dunes! In case you were wondering).

“Don’t worry about the boat! Don’t worry about it! Leave the stuff!” Boris called, finally looking rattled.

“Get a life jacket!” Peppermeister cried, and I grabbed the only one still within reach, passing it to him, confused.

Ooh, the water feels nice. It’s not as hard to swim in a denim jacket as I thought it would be. Bet I could swim back pretty fast. Great exercise.

“Do you need it? Put it on!” Peppermeister said frantically.

I took one look at his face and his next statement answered my unspoken question, “I’m freakin’ out a little.”

“It’s fine,” I replied. “It’s fine. We’re in a bay. You know how to swim.”

“I know, I know,” he said. “You get on first.”

Shouldn’t we get the stuff?

“Don’t worry about the stuff!” Boris called again.

“Go! Use our boat!” Peppermeister urged.

Our overturned boat was creating, I realized, a handy step up onto Butthead. Boris grabbed my arm firmly, “I got you, I got you.”

Man, I always thought that would be impossible, I thought as I tumbled onboard.

Once Peppermeister and I were safely seated, we began our 45-minute slog back to the marina. I didn’t realize why it took so long until much later.

Boris was towing our boat.

Upside down.

LongIsland-boat-fail-overturned-boat

The Station owner was waiting for us on the dock when we returned.

“A ‘small’ problem?” he asked, glancing between Boris and his sodden passengers.

Boris stared at the ground while Peppermeister and I disembarked. Moments later, he handed us a full refund and two t-shirts.

“I’m so sorry about this,” he said.

He walked away, shoulders slumped, and I looked at Peppermeister.

“That. Was. AWESOME.”

LongIsland-TheStation-tshirts

Have you ever had any vacation mishaps?

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Advertisements
Booze, Just For Fun

Long Island: Short on Good Drivers, Long on, um, Land

Chipmunks! I’m back from Long Island!

I feel less than chipmunky for putting up a new post before even responding to your kind comments and well wishes from my last post, but, psst

…I have something in the works for later this week, and it requires me to get to my ‘200th blog post,’ which means putting up three more posts before the end of the week.

Wait. That came out wrong. I just really wanted to share some highlights from my extended anniversary weekend (truly extended – we decided to stay an extra night and just got back today!) in Long Island.

We were fortunate enough to stay in a family-owned summer home, for free, alone.  It’s the same house my dad spent every summer in as a kid, and where my paternal grandparents lived full-time later in life, so it was a booze-filled terrific walk down memory lane.

I had a wonderful time, but I missed you so much that I kept seeing mustaches everywhere:

I had big plans for this chair. Then I just got drunk.

And I finally had that lobster roll I’d been coveting ever since Rachel’s Table‘s husband ate one while wearing a slap bracelet:

I also had the opportunity to reenact a tragic moment from my childhood – when my sister got clocked in the head by a mini golf club. Let’s just say my brother had an overzealous swing.

This would have been a better reenactment if we had had fake blood. A LOT of fake blood.

Oh and there was this – bonus points if you know who I’m impersonating:

I’ll give you a hint: WHOA.

Also? Lest you think I said I had gone drinkin’ in vain…

Day 1.
Day 2.
Day 3.

Oh my gawd. I almost forgot. Peppermeister (Husband #1) didn’t want me to say that he likes to take ‘arty’ pictures, so, um, I made this collage instead:

Speaking of not arty pictures, Uncle Jesse wants you to know he also had a great time:

Have you had any memorable (and/or guilty pleasure-ful) trips or experiences so far this summer?

P.S. – If you’re wondering about the title of this post, I don’t want to talk about it.

Let’s just say we found this secret garden and it’s full of secrets.
Booze, Chipmunks Forever, Marriage

Gone Drinkin’

Drinking-Champagne
I know! My supply is running low.

The title of this post implies that I’ve gone off to do something I don’t normally do. Ha ha. Well. Let’s go with it.

That’s right. I’m going fishing drinking.

Peppermeister and I celebrate our 4th anniversary today, and we’re headed to Long Island ’til Sunday. My extended family has a little house by a bay where I haven’t visited in 10 years, so I’m pretty excited to return. Even if the weather is crap.

Chipmunk-Painting-by-Schmetz
This piece of Schmetz is my anniversary present. …What? The artist’s name is Schmetz!

The house doesn’t have internet access, which I’m nervous depressed confused about okay with. We’ll have, um, cruiser bikes…and bocce ball…and love. So that’s something.

I guess this is goodbye for a few days?

Holy chipmunks.

Don’t forget me.

I love you?

P.S. – Oh who am I kidding? My phone has 3G.