Grunge Night at The Duck Dodge! Sailing, Swilling, and Swooning!

One of my dearest friends, Dan, owns a sailboat.  The Mirus, as she's called (I have no idea why), at 28', is big enough for day sails or weekends, or even for a week to the San Juan Islands.  Mostly, though, she hangs out around Lake Union, Seattle's insane wind gyroscope.  The weather, the wind, they change in minutes on this fairly small lake that's populated by houseboats and moorage, and surrounded on three sides by substantial hills.

Which is why The Duck Dodge is so popular with local sailors.  Bring your boat, bring your friends, and bring a bottle of rum.  At least one. Three is best.  Okay, I also brought my fancy new, red, white, and blue leather, Croatian cherry brandy canteen filled with bourbon, and just enough water to let the liquor bloom.  Oh, where was I?

The Duck Dodge is one big boozefest.  It's scary to have 3 million dollar, world-class racing yachts captained by a guy holding a can of PBR coming up fast on your port side.  Seriously.  The course changes weekly, which no one knows until the Committee boat hangs out the course on the sides of their boat.  It's easy to spot the Committee Boat - it's the only one that's not a sailboat.

There are four classes, with starting times five minutes apart: Fast Boats (competition boats, usually crewed by drunks in matching Helly/Hansen rain gear), Half Fast Boats (wannabe competition boats - just determined enough to capsize), Cruising and Slower Boats (that's us - the "We Don't Give a Shit About Winning Another Duck Sticker, We're Just Having Fun and Trying to Avoid Shoot the Moon and That Bumblebee Boat"), and Dinghy Class.  Each week, there's a different theme: Grunge, Sesame Street, Prom, Pirates, Toga, Mardi Gras, and every guy's favorite, Duct Tape Night.

There seem to be only two rules in the Duck Dodge. 1. Don't hit another boat.  This rule is only loosely followed by the big racing yachts.  They not only take on each other, but will run right over any boat in the lower classes.  There have been collisions and capsizings in all classes, but I feel that the fault usually falls on the racing yachts.  The second rule is that you are never allowed to make one of the lake's resident ducks change their own course.  Not The Duck, those obnoxious amphibious tourist traps - it's open season on those jackasses.  The rule applies to actual quack-quack ducks.  You'd think they'd figure out by now, though, that Tuesday evenings are not a good night to go for a little ducky family cruise.  I did actually see one of the racing yachts, Shoot the Moon, purposely graze a duck last night.  I have no problem naming names here - that boat is a fucking menace!  WTF, right?!  I was yelling at them, but they had their eyes on the prize, I suppose.  Shoot the Moon and this black and yellow bumblebee boat (can't remember the name) have caused bumps, bruises, and a few cracked hulls in their quest to win the most ridiculous boat race in history.  Seriously, there have been a number of accidents, and capsizings.  My first time out, we watched Shoot the Moon come around hard at the course buoy, actually bumping a guy in a dinghy.  This boat just pisses me off.

Back on The Mirus, I had my slit-long-sleeved shirt, with a tank top over that and a vest on tope of that, with my holiest jeans and favorite purple Docs.  Lou and Dan weren't really in costume, but we will all be next week: Sesame Street Night.  I'll have to do some research for this one...  Week after, though, is Pirate Night - you KNOW that Lou and I will be armed and corseted.  Well, he'll be armed, I'll be corseted.  And armed.

So, Dan, Lou, and I were on our own, not even Pancho, Dan's dog, came with us.  I love when the boat isn't crowded - when it's just my husband, my best friend, and his dog.  FYI, Lou will argue, but I AM a better jiber than him.  Totally.  I'm also not bad with steering or manning the traveler.  Shockingly, we actually finished in not bad time.  We are usually dead last - even behind the dinghies, so we just give up and go link up for the post-race party with the rest of the boats.  You should see it - sailors swinging from one boat to the next, everybody looking for a boat with a head, sharing stories and flasks.

I have a fear of water beyond imagination.  It came about at some point during my 20s.  I have no idea when, or why.  It just is.  So, in the past, I've been a little wigged out on Dan's boat, but I told myself that I wasn't going to be scared last night, took a Klonopin, and clutched my flask.  By the end of the night, I was straddling the bowsprit, watching the black water beneath my swinging purple Docs.  I think I'll be okay now, as long as we don't get in the way of Shoot the Moon.

Anyone interested in a more technical recap of last night's events should check out my huband Lou's (aka Blue Lou Logan) blog at http://www.blueloulogan.blogspot.com/.