Captain’s Log: Stardate 10446.0
First and foremost, I’d like to welcome Ensign Yejide (hereafter to be known as “Yej”) to the crew of the Enterprise. Yej is a friend of Lt. Patty’s, but we won’t hold that against her. She has no sailing experience, but is very willing to learn.

The winds last night were light and variable, but just enough to get a race in. Extra careful attention would have to be paid towards crew weight, tactics and sail trim. Apparently frustrated by the lack of strong winds, Commander Dave decided to walk towards and then bang his head into the boom (it was still, he clearly went to it.)

Before the start, we speculated on which was greater, Lt. Kurt’s daughter’s fear of the Boogeyman or Lt. Kurt’s fear of his wife. It looks like the latter is true as Kurt was nowhere to be found. His presence was missed, because the question kept coming up as to how much time do we give the Gay Klingons (Neverland Express) and when no answer came back, it was “Where’s Spock?”

Apparently too much, as the Gay Klingons, though finishing well behind us, corrected to 50 some-odd seconds ahead.

50 seconds.

Nah. I won’t do that again.

And, we need to work on our photon torpedo technology and blow Surcease into the next quadrant. That little bathtub wasn’t even a blip on our aft long-range sensors and was still able to correct over the entire fleet.

One of her crew saw the results and was very pleased, then walked away smiling and said “Nice race.” You could not help but feel happy for her…

Until the most well-mannered and soft-spoken of starship captains, who shall remain nameless, took into consideration all of the factors in last night’s race and the history of the gentlemen’s sport of yacht racing and said…

“Rot in Hell, bitch.”

God, I love this sport.