Boating: Are you a Southwest Floridian or just passing through to the grave?
“Just let me hit him once,” I shouted to the seven or eight “Dead End Canal Yacht Club” members that held me back. “He deserves at least one thump and lump!”
‘Run-aground Ralph’ cowered next to the beer keg. It was the safest place in the clubhouse for sure but he couldn’t hug the keg of Pabst Blue Ribbon forever. “‘Mrs Run-aground’ was yelling something at me while several other less distraught members yelled at her husband. There was a real possibility of a donnybrook brewing.
Last summer ‘Run-aground Ralph’ retired from RV-ing because he wasn’t any better at it than he was at boating. When he announced that he was in the market for another boat we applauded his decision and were reconciled to his continued membership.
Several members accompanied him to local new boat dealerships. He test drove several boats. He haggled with salesmen (a couple who are members) and then he bought a boat from his ex-home town dealership. He hasn’t spent 20 days there in the last five years but he wanted to be heralded as some returning hero big shot instead of supporting his real home town!
“His brother went to school with the former owner of that dealership,” shouted ‘Mrs Run-aground’ repeatedly until the din of anger settled down.
“I demand an immediate, retro-active dis-barment, impeachment or whatever for this traitorous scoundrel,” I shouted hoarsely. I was spent and my restrainers realized that I wasn’t going to attack him physically now that I brought up the legal approach.
“I let you and your wife take out a new boat. You ran half the gas out of it and hit the dock pretty hard when you returned. You promised me our boat was in the top three and then you buy a boat out of state,” shouted ‘Salty Sal’ the boat salesman.
“Our family always supports local people!”
“Local, local you don’t live there anymore and you haven’t lived there for 15 years. Everything is better up north! That’s what you always say,” I said. “Somebody get him away from that beer keg or I’ll swear….”
“You don’t buy anything local,” shouted ‘Fisher George’. “You buy tilapia and Asian Tiger Shrimp from the supermarket while your neighbors lose their boats to foreign competition. Your daughter-in-law nearly died from Iodine poisoning and she specifically asked you if the shrimp were farm raised.”(Asians Shrimp Farmers add Iodine to their Tiger Shrimp in order to make them appear like wild shrimp)
“You don’t support locally owned restaurants except at happy hour and then you ask for happy hour appetizers to-go. Your friends begged us to keep you as a member during your RV-ing days but then you stiffed us on the dues,” I said.
“We can’t throw him out for buying a boat up north,” said Boston Bob. “Most of our snowbird members attend church here but send their donations up north. They come for the weather, not to build a new life!”
(ITALICS) The author of this column has never been institutionalized to the best of his recollection. Contact him at boatguiEd@aol.com and don’t forget to buy local; fish, shrimp and especially bottom paint!