Monterey, end tie E. We had settled down all snug under a cozy comforter and had begun to drift
off to sleep when there was the sound of an outboard engine and then a loud THUMP.
Richard leaped out of bed, ran upstairs grabbing a boat-hook and searchlight along the way. I
grabbed some clothes, then followed. Richard was yelling, "Come back here you $%^&." jumping up
and down much to the amusement of the restaurant goers across the way. Remember, I grabbed
clothes, Richard a boat-hook. It was quite the floor-show.
What did my wondering eyes see? A sailboat bearing a rebel flag, careening down a dock fairway
trying to get away from the boat it had just hit, ours.
The sailboat crew, as unsteady on their feet as a girl in her first stilettos, were urging the boat to
greater speed. Unfortunately they selected (any implication of thought going into the decision is
extremely generous on my part) a fairway that was a deadend. We watched as the boat went full
speed up, up, up on top off the dock, hit with a sickening THUD and then slid pathetically back to
the water.
The sailboat then hit two more boats before being stopped by their own engine. It ceased to run.
In the end they were still trying to start the engine when the police arrived and then took them away.
I'm still waiting for the restaurant to offer Richard a permanent gig.