Fighting Sailing Couple

¬†calico manxLast week, a sailboat anchored in my lagoon. This in itself was not a strange occurrence. Many folks on many different kinds of boats like to anchor here. It’s a nice spot, and I have shared a meal with many a sailor. Sometimes the meals have turned into feasts that last for days as sailors relish dancing around on dry land with the sand between their toes.

Last week, a sailboat anchored in the lagoon. She was a beautiful forty-six foot Beneteau with the name Better than Diamonds. A young couple in their thirties had been island hopping on her for a little less than a month, and boy-o-boy were they an experience. They seemed all right at first, but then I invited them to dinner.

Now, I don’t like to pry into people’s lives. I like to just leave folks to their business and expect them to leave me to mine. But this couple threw themselves upon me with so much vigor that I felt I was a referee in a boxing match. I would try to excuse myself from them, but when I would get up to leave, one of them would follow me.

First it was the guy:

Sorry about Mindy. She’s got way too many opinions. The guy said as I was getting more beers out of ice box. By the way, Mindy is not her real name.

She’s fine by me. I said.

All she does morning to night is yap yap yap and complain and ask are we there yet? How much farther? Can’t we go any faster? I had asked her several times, are you sure you want to come with me? It’s going to be cramped quarters. I think she saw herself as sitting on the deck drinking cocktails with the wind in her hair, but there’s a lot more to boating than that. . .

The guy went on and on as he followed me from the icebox to the kitchen and back out to the deck. He finally shut up when we were in ear shot of Mindy. For the rest of the meal, he was on good behavior. Mindy was delightful. She had a very dry sense of humor and made me laugh a few times.

When I cleared the plates to bring them inside, she insisted on helping. As soon as we were in the kitchen, she started her tirade.

Oh, I can’t stand him. Sorry if he was rude.

He’s fine by me. I said not remembering any rudeness from her guy.

We were supposed to be relaxing on a nice boat. Relaxing, but he’s gone total fascist workaholic. Do this. Do that. I am so over this whole scene. He never was really that good in the sack either. I mean have needs. I’m jumping ship. I just need some place to jump off to.

Mindy said all this as she inched closer and closer to me. She wasn’t wearing any underwear under her t-shirt and short cut-off jeans. I’ll admit. I was tempted, but there was way too much drama happening. I took a big step back.

There’s an airfield on the other side of the island. If you anchor near the town and ask around, someone can tell you where it is. I said.

Mindy’s face sank. Literally. Her chin went down and all her features suddenly seemed heavy. She was looking for a hero, but I was no hero. I was just a guy who lived on a lagoon.

Thanks. She said, and walked out of the kitchen. I stayed in the kitchen and washed the dishes. When I went back to them a few minutes later, the couple announced that they had to get back to the boat. They thanked me for dinner, got back in their dingy and rowed away.

The next morning, their beautiful boat was gone. I never asked about the name. Peace has returned.