Captain's Log: Stardate 10766.3
There was a point last night on the first upwind leg that Commander Richard's cell phone rang, and I told him to shut it off. That, my friends, was the biggest mistake of the night and it all falls on me.

Because that phone call could have been something important that could have kept Richard on the phone for several minutes, perhaps hours, and then he would have been too busy to give opinions about which side of the course to go on, when to ease off to make the windward mark and so on and so on.

With a dying breeze and bad tactical decisions left and right, our fate was sealed on the first leg alone, leading to a clusterfuck of biblical proportions. And, just to piss on our proverbial grave, we couldn't get around the first mark and then it seemed we were the only boat in all of Long Island Sound to find the only windless hole in the universe that is over one billion light years across, and I had no idea it even existed until I read about it in today's Yahoo! News (link to article.)

And when a boat off of New Rochelle started shooting off fireworks, the crew figured it was a better time to watch the pretty lights and argue about the make and model of the BB gun in the movie "A Christmas Story" than stuff like, oh, spinnaker trim, downhaul, mark locations and so on.

But it wasn't all bad. Our tacks were super-fast and our spinnaker sets have reached legendary status. It's now amazing to watch the bow team of Captain Dave and Yeoman Brittany work so well with pitmen Lt. Jonathan and Yeoman June.

We crossed the line last, and on corrected time, we have still yet to finish.

Luckily the crew had the right idea – as Jonathan picked up the mooring, most of them were down below quickly drinking down three bottles of wine and ravaging through a bag of tortilla chips.

There's only two Wednesday Night races left. Suggest investing in liquor stores.

Captain's Log: Stardate 10764.4
Last night's race wasn't as great as I had expected it to be. The forecasted 15-20 turned into a mere 5-10 and after a great start, things went downhill from there. Low on crew, we did exceptionally well with the sail handling, including the jibe-set – something we have not had a whole lot of practice with. And even though we ended up in last on corrected time, it was still great to pass Exhilaration downwind.

As for the crew, there were two big moments. First, Lt. Jonathan tried to dispel all notions that he is "a chick" right after notifying Commander Richard that he wore his shirt, was returning it, but was also sure to launder, press, iron and fold it for him beforehand.

The second was Yeoman Brittany's announcement that she's getting Lasik surgery on her eye today and therefore will not be on board for the Distance Race RC Duty this weekend. Brittany, still very much living in the early 21st Century, apparently doesn't know about the future of Lasik and how it comes into play in the 23rd Century.

By 2073, doctors finally linked, after decades of outcry from angry patients, that Lasik did so much damage to the eye that after 15 years, the eyeball will just, simply, fall out of your head. This would happen during the most normal of times – while eating dinner, during conversations, at work, etc. The super heat from the Lasik would shrink the eye so that it will be much smaller than the socket.



In 2135, use of Lasik was outlawed everywhere except for Korea, where Kim Jong Il’s great grandson, Make Mei, accidentally ate the eye of his fourth wife when it popped out during dinner. He enjoyed the taste so much that the use of Lasik was accelerated in order to meet the demand of Korean fine dining enthusiasts.



By 2161, due to its destructive power, all Lasik materials and research were handed over to the military. In 2187, Lasik is renamed to "Phaser". Two models are designed: a personal weapon . . .



. . . and a cannon version for use on vessels.



By 2252, Phasers are standard equipment on all Starfleet vessels. All thanks to Lasik. And, thankfully, when Brittany's eye falls out in 15 years, she will be one of the people that will set this all in motion. Have fun, Brittany!

Captain's Log: Stardate 10762.5
Last night was a beautiful night – great temperature, nice breeze and a good amount of boats in our division racing. Chaika, however, was not out because her captain and crew decided to, instead, take the USS Winnebago to Shelter Island on a vacation. I did consider towing the un-manned Chaika to the starting area and having her counted as a starter, destroying their perfect 1.000 average, but something inside told me that somehow, some way, Chaika would hoist her own sails, cruise around the course and win again.

As for the Enterprise, we were a little light on crew with Commander Richard SIC again, Lt. Kurt was doing something work-related, Yeoman Ellen was in Hotlanta, Georgia, and it appears that Mike, Brad and Bill have all found their way into a black hole and are not coming back. Luckily, I ran into Roy Israel who usually sails on USS Watercolour and was looking for a posting for the night. Roy and I go way back – I used to sail with him on his Knickerbocker One Design when I was a mere cadet, long before the first Enterprise.

Our start could have been better, but that was mainly due to my heading off during the last minute to let Forza slip between us and the committee boat, despite my numerous warnings for him not to go in there. We could have protested, but we blew right past them and he's so far in last place that it would just add insult to injury. Besides, I’m told that Forza is Italian for "I should have bought a powerboat."

Then, on the first leg, we had a close encounter with none other than "The Terrorist", who took us to wind for no other reason than to screw with us. The guy can’t even qualify and he's out here messing with boats who are in the series. Very poor sportsmanship. And, a whole new meaning to the terrorist handle. I think I'll call the TSA and get his name added to the no-fly list.

The race of the race went very well, including some kick-ass spinnaker hoists and douses. As the chute went up on the second downwind leg – right as we were rounding the windward mark and we accelerated to a steady Warp 7.2, all I could think was, damn, this crew is GOOD. They're working together. Communication is flowing. The team is in place. With two months or so left in our season, I was feeling recharged in the knowledge that this crew is the best yet.

We returned to the mooring after a great night out and just couldn't wait to get our hands on Zoraida's cookies (sorry pervs, we really mean cookies) and Lt. Jonathan began to tell the story about his flat tire in the club parking lot, where two men came along and helped him by changing his tire for him. Suddenly, things were starting to make sense! Here's a person who shares his pants and underwear with women on board, who likes letting his naturally curly hair grow out, and is happy to let two men change a flat tire for him. Holy shit! Is Jonathan a chick?

Starfleet policy: Don't ask. Don't tell.

Captain's Log: Stardate 10760.5
Last night's Wednesday Night race started out just like every other. The crew was setting up spinnaker lines and removing the sail cover – and Brittany was telling Jonathan she was ready to return his underwear. Ah yes, Enterprise racing in its prime.

Conditions started out very nice for us – a beautiful night. Crewman Kenny, noticing far less arguing on board since Commander Richard was S.I.C. almost 2,000 miles away, decided to do a few Richard-isms, stating "You’re pinching", "Let's take a wind heading!" and "We should get the jib out now", but his timing was off, stating each of them either while we were at the mooring, on the third leg of the race or on the way into the club for dinner.

I must say the crew handled the Enterprise VERY well, and it was a real pleasure keeping with USS Chaika for the duration of the race. We did, however, have an opportunity to pass them, but we had a problem with our spinnaker set. As we rounded the windward mark, the hoisting began and shortly afterwards, Foredeck Captain Dave yelled out "SET!"

But it wasn't.

Instead, the chute was only two-thirds up the mast and we had an hourglass so big that for a moment I thought I was watching Days of Our Lives in IMAX.

The amazing foredeck team quickly fixed the problem and we crossed the line in third place, correcting, not by much, into fourth. But, in many ways, this was a victory. Everything went smoothly and everyone was working well. Very proud of all of them.

Captain's Log: Stardate 10759.7
The past weekend, the crew of the Enterprise banded together for one of the more stressful events (at least for me) of the season, the City Island Yacht Club Women Skipper's Race. The nightmares from the year prior had finally gone away and no longer did I find myself waking up in a cold sweat thinking we were going to hit the committee boat in 17 knots of wind moving at Warp 7 while the woman on the helm's hands froze screaming out "Ay Dios Mio!"

Instead, when we got on board, winds were almost non-existent, fluctuating between 0 and 4 – Ahh, I thought as I lowered the swim ladder letting Ensign Zoraida and Yeoman Ellen in to the water, now THIS is WSR conditions. In fact, the only thing troubling me was trying to figure out a way to establish that bikinis should be standard uniform for all Enterprise women.

We got out to the starting area early and did some more swimming. Then the committee boat showed up, raised a postponement flag and their crew also went swimming. Then, at least ten of the other boats entered had their crews in the water. Eastchester Bay was now our pool, and the "warm spots" were increasing.

Yeomans Brittany and June also wanted to go in the water, but did not bring their bathing suits, which led to a rather uncomfortable moment when she decided to wear Lt. Jonathan's boxer underwear instead.

Water battles began to break out and just as they were getting intense (impulse engines at full speed – water cannon phasers and bucket photo torpedoes constantly being fired and reloaded) the wind came up and we actually got a race in!

The Enterprise women took turns on the helm and did an amazing job passing boats upwind and downwind to cross the finish line first and correct into second! Another trophy for the Enterprise! I suppose we could have taken a first, but Ellen wanted to go back in the water, Zoraida couldn’t steer in a straight line, June wanted to run over a pair of fishing boats, Jonathan wanted to go back and get the phaser he dropped in the water (those were expensive, Jonathan!) and despite her time in men's underwear, Brittany didn’t seem to have the balls for winch grinding.

Nevertheless, it was a fantastic day on the water. Thanks to all.

Captain's Log: Stardate 10758.6
After doing some quick repairs to the impulse engines and the deflector shields, the Enterprise was once again at full power and the crew was more than ready for another Wednesday Night Race.

Too bad the wind gods didn't get the memo. As the wind fluctuated between 1 and 2, with gusts up to 4, we knew that there was no way any race was going to be run. So, instead, we watched the sunset and cruised back to Starbase at a measly Warp 1.3.

Our crew is ready for this weekend’s Women Skippers Race (where the Enterprise women will take turns at the conn and sickbay will be monitoring my blood pressure and level of anxiety during each shift) and the Day Race.

There's really not much else to report, except that we now all know that Ensign Zoraida has an "innie" bellybutton. Apparently Zoraida wasn’t loving the heat and decided to don her mirror-universe uniform, showing off her tanned six-pack abs (My personal view on this is: Why have the six-pack when you can have the keg?).

And, while we don't have a photo of Zoraida's new Enterprise look, for clarification we do have an image of a former Enterprise crewperson, Lt. Nyota Uhura, wearing a similar uniform:


Lt. Kurt, the ship's seamstress, had his sewing machine in the car and offered to make all of the women's uniforms look that way. I thought it was a great idea, especially if the leftover material was to be made into a skirt.