Captain’s Log: Stardate 10457.5
Last night was quite the adventure, with enough fast-paced action and thrills that it could have easily become an odd-numbered movie (that’s an inside joke to Trek fans.)

It started earlier in the day with numerous emails. Ensign Jane (formerly Yejide) was moving, Crewman Mike was working, Lt. Patty had to meet a deadline after doing someone else’s work (we’ll get to that) and Lt. Kurt’s family was either sick, broken, or, even worse, in France. Ensign Lefty’s still afraid of Mitch’s sushi, Crewman Roman was, well, Roamin’, Commander Jory’s still in school and Ensign Hilde is still on vacation, taking a much-needed break from her, um, break.

But Lt. Patty, understanding that racing has nothing to do with work, did come out to race with the understanding that she would be going back to work afterwards. It seems that she was trying to meet her own deadlines after meeting someone else’s deadlines. This chain of events put her in mood that can best be described as “pissy” (she did use the head several times last night.)

And Lt. Kurt’s conversation with is wife went something like this:
Kurt: “Hi, hon. How are the kids?”
Diana: “They’re taking a nap.”
Kurt: “Good. It’s Wednesday you know.”
Diana: “Kurt, I have a dislocated shoulder, my mother has a broken finger, the babysitter’s in school, your parents are in France and both of our children are sick. If you really want to go racing –“
[click]
Kurt was on the Enterprise in a half hour.

So with most of the crew on board, we went to the start line and tried to get something going in the dying breeze. How fast was the breeze dying? A red-shirt would have more screen time (OK. Another inside joke.)

Frustrated with the fact that the Gay Klingons would have a better start than us, Commander Richard maneuvered the Enterprise so that we’d collide with them. We did our turns, went to the left side of the course and ended up 40 boat lengths ahead of the fleet (I’m still trying to figure that one out.) The wind clocked down to nothing and that was it – a large grouping of boats from two divisions all trying to get around the first mark.

With no Warp drive and no sign of any speed in the near future, we engaged the impulse engines and headed home for an hour or so of sitting at the mooring eating sushi, Budweiser and Cheez Doodles (hereafter to be referred to as The Breakfast of Champions.)

The night ended with a distress call from USS Exuberance whose impulse drive was inoperative and they were hopelessly adrift off of City Island. Their navigator calculated that at their present speed, they would reach their mooring sometime in the late 24th Century. As required by the Starfleet Charter, we came to the rescue, receiving a bottle of champagne for the service.