so all this boring shit about Stephan's boat repairs and bike rides...were is the debauchery??

Sooooooo....names may be changed to protect the not so innocent. Wednesday night we head downtown. Holy shit there loads of beautiful people in Chucktown. Granted, there are a lot of collared shirts and 80's era dresses, but hell, they are fucking hot. We started out at Salty's for the pre CRW party. I saw loads of the Dauntless posse as well as a number of folks that work at the marina. It was pretty tame with some live music, a raffle (for some damn cloth grocery bags...really?) and a lot of drinking. We were already well on point when we zoomed down town in a very speedy car. After turning heads on King Street, we parked and rolled into Closed For Business. Interesting mix of clientele. We ended up chatting to a group of footies (soccer players). They were somewhat interesting, but it was a short lived conversation and we moved on to Halls. Now that was more interesting!!!! I was talking to a lovely young lady who was off her fucking rocker drunk! OMG as the Charlestonian chick-a-dees would say. A boy, whom she claimed wasn't her boyfriend, was skulking around like a beat dog. At one point as we were having a ciggy (I don't even smoke) and the cool guy threw his keys at us saying something along the lines of "Have fun". I think he meant to say "Have fun ass hole." I must admit, this girl had little to offer, but it was fun pissing in this guy's Cheerios. I know I am a dick, but really, if he hadn't made such a scene I probably wouldn't have continued talking to his "not girlfriend". Later he even threw a pack of smokes at us. I left the lovers to quarrel. (She still gave me her card he he he...)

Some friends of ours were there, and is often the case, there was a gaggle of girls hanging about. One of my mates did something to piss one of them off and before you know it, he was telling her something along the lines of "And oh, by the way, I wasn't fucking talking to you." That went over well. We were soon to become pumpkins so it was time to go.

Thursday morning, my head was only a little fuzzy. I was filling in for Frenchy for a practice sail on the Melges 30 at 10 AM. There wasn't a whole lot of wind, maybe 10 to 12, but the boat performed well and the skipper sounded confident after we finished.

There was a rum tent event scheduled, but we opted to take it downtown again. It is entirely possible that I have confused some of the events from Wednesday and Thursday evenings. We were anticipating our first day of racing on Friday, so we kept tame. Though, I must admit that my boys don't really know how to keep it very tame. But none the less, we made it back to the Doc at a semi reasonable time. We were up at 6 AM and after a great breakfast of huevos rancheros, we were on a 12' Whaler headed across the harbor. Noel had brought Solarus over to Patriot's Point, so my boat was across the way from Wave Bye (the Melges 30). Aside from someone missing their foulies and having to jump from Melges to Melges looking for their gear, the morning went smoothly. Ok, there was nothing smooth about the Whaler ride...bump bump boom. My ass still hurts and I am pretty sure that a late night mustache ride wasn't the culprit.

The wind was up (high teens) and the chop made the water like a washing machine. Waves were coming from all directions and I saw the bow on the J130 numerous times submerge. With me on foredeck, it was only a matter of minutes before I was soaking wet. I am not immune to sea sickness on a bad day, but on a bad day with a hangover, it's a guarantee. I didn't get sick, but it made the trip out the jetties (which is where the waves build as they come into the harbor) miserable.

I believe that there was a delay at the start, but not by much. The wind an waves were blowing the marks around, but they were set by 10:15. We had a great start. We were ready to rock at the windward mark with most of the fleet behind us. I pre-fed the tack to the spin pole and was going pole out. I look aft and notice that the wind had caught the head of the sail; it was spilling out into the water and none of the crew had noticed. I start screaming "The fucking sail!" It was too late, the spinnaker was in the water. 1500 sf of sail streaming under the boat. All hands were trying to bring the spinnaker back on board as the fleet caught up, passed us and then marched away. Fortunately we were able to get the sail back on board with only two holes. Both of which were repairable. It did force us to bring out the big boy though. Now we were going to have to fly 1900 sf of spinnaker. It was a blessing in disguise if you ask me. There was a lot of concern about throwing up the big sail early on, but it was the right call. We were flying our number 3 jib and had we stayed with the reacher spin, we would have been underpowered on both up and down legs. I guess you can only load up the boat as much as your crew and your skipper feel comfortable.

On our next down wind leg, the spinnaker went up without any issue (as I had anticipated). After that, there were next to no crew fuck ups. Yet, there were still fuck ups. I must be respectfully honest; there were a number of communication issues from the back of the boat to the front of the boat and vice versa. There were also a number of helmsman issues. All in all, we finished last for the day...and the boat deserved it. As is usual, my sea sickness subsided half way through the day. But now another three on the crew were ill. On the 130, it is necessary to band or yarn the corners of the spinnaker between sets. This means that at least one person, often two, go below and chase the tapes and tie on strings. The process takes maybe 10 minutes or so but being below in 3' to 5'swells can put you into chum mode fast. I give the girls (Barb and Sharon) 110% credit; they were able to band all but two sets. I banded once and Matt banded once. I love sailing, but I love being competitive. I found the day frustrating, observing what I felt like were loads of questionable calls. My frustration with the back of the boat must have been obvious. During the last race, the cockpit had finally had enough of the foredeck screaming at them because they screamed back. Shit wasn't happening like it was supposed to and the explanation was that the pit had was that they were simply under crewed. Hmmmmm, this was not a fine tuned racing yacht. I was ready for a beer.

The boat was silent as we motored back to the dock. Eventually, as I wanted to let the cock pit understand that there were no hard feelings, I started cutting up and making jokes. The guy who yelled back at me was one of the crewmen that I had the most confidence in. If he claimed that he didn't have enough people or enough confidence in the pit to get the job done, then I believed him. With the drama behind us, I wasn't going to pout any longer. "Beers all around!" For whatever reason, only two of us partook. Fuck it then, I head below for a nice long nap during the return voyage. We got back to the dock and little was said. I tracked down my Witch Doc crew and we took the Whaler (compliments of Greg) back across the harbor. Everyone was wet and quiet. Poor Trey was getting gallons of water sprayed on him and there was no speed to prevent it. What a wet damn day.

Oh Friday night how I loved you. So I think the female to male ratio in Charleston is something like 7 to 2. Say no more. We made it to the party and somehow, I was separated from the group. At the end of the evening, I found myself chatting with some of the volunteers. It is worth saying that one volunteer in particular, I had spoken to during the past two years of CRWs. Now if you ask me, I am never hitting on a girl, I simply like speaking to them. According to her, this makes the third year of hitting on her. I am sure I was just trying to network! ;) Well at the end of the evening, I found myself on the pier with um... a number of volunteers and one other sailor. We were having deep discussion over um... drinks. Well it is no secret that racing sailors tend to piss off the back of the boat or on a bush or in a parking lot or hell, even the corner of a building (hopefully outside). Well, one lovely lady figured that there was no reason that she couldn't do the same damn thing. She found a really inconspicuous spot (under a damn street light!) to drop trouser and gracefully relieve herself. Did i mention that it was directly under a light? We who were standing at the end of the pier could see this not so little reflecting pool, growing. A lot of things can be said about sailors and their friends, classy may or may not be one of them.

So after a little pow wow on the pier, I had convinced some of the party to come to the after party. So just know that you are not about to read about some hedonistic orgy. At least not yet. We returned to the Doc and out came the guitar. Holy shit I never knew that I was around such talent! Trey is an unbelievable performer! Matt was chiming in and before you knew it, there was a chorus singing as Trey played. I happened to look at my phone and realized that it was 12:06 AM. "Shit, it's my birthday!" I said. My friends, new and old, are awesome. They instantly broke out into the birthday song. Thanks guys! **Sniff**Sniff**

It wasn't too long after that that our guests left and it was time for beddy bye. Ok, Saturday morning was rough. Really rough. But here is my product endorsement...Rebootizer! I was slightly hung over but really it was the sleep deprivation that was kicking my ass. And then, after only an hour, I felt great! The folks at Rebootizer were brilliant to bring their product to a sailing event!

We got to our respective boats just in time to hear that the races were canceled due to potential for tornadoes....yes, tornadoes. It was 8:30 when I had my first rum drink...

Ok, this day and night needs it's own entry and I don't have time to do it justice this morning. I will write more tonight or tomorrow.

As the smokin' hot NautiGirl would say...Stand by