Captain’s Log: Stardate 10267.9
Last night, the breeze, air temperature and sunset were just about perfect. Our performance, on the other hand, was close to the other end of the spectrum.

After waiting a Stardate or two for division 4 to start properly, for the USS Wow to get untangled from the committee boat’s anchor line and for a committee course change, our start was mediocre, but we had good position and boat speed. As we approached the first mark (where just ahead, USS Hub Bub and the Romulan warbird This Is It were locked into some sort of conflict) the wind gusted up and caused some havoc with our mark rounding and spinnaker set. Once set, we accelerated to Warp 7 and tried to fix things as we went.

Then came the jibe, which almost cost Lt. Commander Dave Beaver his head. It was his work, however, along with Ensign Mitch Nochlin, Lt. Laura Heald, Lt. Kurt vonRoeschlaub, Ensign Patty McKee and Lt. Commander Jory Stark, that kept the Enterprise at top speed and the spinnaker under control. We rounded the leeward mark ahead of the Klingon vessel Desperado.

Once rounded, though, our sail control was lost, because of the number of people on board concentrating on the take-down and preparing the Enterprise for upwind tacking. It took us some time to get things settled and head towards the finish.

What really cost us was the missing crewmembers: Lt. Deb was missing in action along with Ensign Brad (who?) Ensign Lefty is still in Greece tossing cookies and spritzing herself with lavender mist, and Commander (!) Richard broke yet another promise that he would be there every week. The Intruder has him so whipped and under her control that we could almost hear the late DeForest Kelley yelling out “Dammit Jim, I’m a doctor, not an exorcist.” Richard, despite the change in rank, is still First Officer, but Lt. Commander Dave, head or no head, may soon be taking that slot if this behavior and blatant disregard for Star Fleet duty continues.

We got to the clubhouse and processed the results, while Laura met her “date,” a gentleman from the Orion vessel, Folly Too. The rest of us began to speculate on his age (Deb, you’ve been one-upped) and called it a night.

And poor Laura was left to dream of Canadian hockey players’ sticks and reruns of “This Old House.” (This is about as “inside” as an “inside joke” can get.)