Hi there, guys and dolls! Looks like I won’t be applying for Skipper or First Mate any time soon. Not after my date with the Captain, anyway.
The weekend started out so exciting. I met a man (Kevin) at the yacht club Friday happy hour, looking all fresh and handsome in his sailing duds and Captain’s hat. I start thinking Cary Grant, Humphrey Bogart. Before long, I had finagled this catch of the day to believe he had the bright idea to ask me to come aboard his yacht on Saturday. It’s the sailor’s life for me, Yo Ho!
Now between you and me, I don’t have the foggiest about the sport. Zip. Nada. Nothing. Well okay, I will admit to using the phrase, “hey sailor” and my heart skips a beat when the term, “the fleet’s in” is bandied about. Anyhow, I’m sure there’ll be a crew and I’ll look the part in my sailor blouse and canvas shoes. That’s all I’ll need. Plus, I’ve seen both “High Society” and “The Philadelphia Story”. I’ll have the lingo, no problem there.
Saturday morning arrives bright and early, clear skies, smooth sailing. I show up the perfunctory 10 minutes late, and I see the dreamboat Kevin waiting on the dock. He looked a little displeased, muttering something about tides, etc. In my defense, I wasn’t that late, on time for a first date, as far as I was concerned. I look at the boat. It’s kinda small, not exactly a yacht. At least it’s made of wood and has a sail, not inflatable rubber. I smile a dazzling smile and say in a grand Hepburnesque voice, “My she’s yar!” He’s busy putting things together, that must be why he doesn’t say anything. I’ll repeat it later, when we’re out on the water, wind in my hair, gliding along, the perfect moment.
We get in, no easy feat as it’s bobbing in the water, but he lifts me up off the deck, sets me down on the boat. Thrilling! Then as we pull away, I noticed there’s no deckhand or anyone to steer or anything. I asked him about it, he laughs and says that’s me. I do know how to sail, right? Oh sure, I agree. I’m a good sport. Can’t be that hard, right?
You know, it’s not so bad, we glide out along the bay, calm and sunny. I use my yar phrase again. He looks confused and what I meant. I tell him it’s old sailor talk. He laughs, saying I must have been around some old salts because he’s never heard that one. He ruffles my hair in a good natured way, and although I must now look a sight and his hand is sticky from all the spray I had used to keep my bouffant set, we have some fun.
Then Josepehine rebels. I’m pretty sure she’s jealous of me and the nice attention Captain Kevin is paying to me. The wind picks up and jeez, it’s cold and before long, he’s uttering out things like, “Tote that barge!” “Lift that bail!” Followed by an urgent, “Watch out for that boom!” Before I can say, “What?” out comes the boom, launching me into the sea. Graciously, he throws me the life preserver (did you know that thing was clunky and made of wood, I didn’t). It just missed me and he’s flailing his arms. In my panic, I thought he was doing some kind of weird dance and I thought how inappropriate. Then I was realizing he was trying to show me to slip it over my head. Anyhoo, I did so and he pulled me in.
After that, I was glad just to get back to dry land. He said I was fun and we should do this again. Yeah, I’m not that desperate. I’m pretty sure there’s other fish in the sea. And Josphine? She’s not that yar. Here’s how she made me feel on Sunday.
Thanks for reading and stay tuned for more posts. And don’t forget to give my Poppy Cove Mysteries a try if you haven’t already.
Toodles, Barbara Jean