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.