Captain's Log: Stardate 10848.4
Northwest Airlines turned me into an asshole (keep to yourself your comments that I was an asshole long before I flew on Northwest, please.)

The day started with waking up in the plush, ultra-comfortable bed at the 5-star Conrad Hotel in Indianapolis. Room service breakfast was delivered and I put on my jacket and tie for a presentation at the Ice Miller law firm. I printed my boarding pass and rechecked my schedule. 3:30 flight, arrives at LGA at 5:50, carry-on bag, car was right outside the terminal -- plenty of time to make it to the Enterprise for the race.

The presentation ended at 1:15, giving me time for a nice, leisurely walk to the cab and a slow, comfortable ride to the airport, marveling at the new stadium they're building for the Colts.

No security lines. A good lunch. Check the monitors -- everything is on time. I even got to change my seat to from 4A to 1B so I can get out of the plane that much faster.

And then it all started. First I was greeted by the Northwest stewardess, Jill. Now I know they prefer to be called "Flight Attendants", but this woman was a stewardess. Nasty from the start. If you had an iPod in your lap (off,) it had to be stowed for take-off. Like the plane was going to take off upside down or something.

You know how when body-builders arms shake when they lift heavy weights? That's what her face did when she tried to smile. The muscles just couldn't handle it. And stupid me: I changed my seat to 1B so I can have a front-row seat. To quote Scarface, she had a look on her face like she hasn't been -- well, you know the rest.

We taxi out to the runway and stop. After twenty minutes, the co-pilot comes on and says that ATC (air traffic control) is looking for a place in the air to put us for the trip to LaGuardia. Twenty more minutes passed. And then I yelled out, "It's a big fucking air! Take off already goddamit!" OK. That was on the inside.

We finally took off and Jill served me water. I asked for nuts, but she said that would be $3.00. $3.00 for nuts! "I'll tell you what Jill. I'll give you three dollars if you take my nuts and..." OK. That was on the inside too.

The ride was smooth. But, the pilots never turned off the seatbelt light. After an hour twenty in the air, I asked Jill if I can go to the bathroom. She replied "The seatbelt light is on. I can't let you go." On the inside, I replied, "Like you could stop me, you bitch. How about if I pee on your seat?!" But, instead, came out, "We sat on the ground for 40 minutes. Could you ask them to turn off the seatbelt light?" She picked up the phone and the light was out in a second. You should have seen the line.

We made up time in the air (why can't they just fly that fast all the time?), landing at LGA five minutes late, and after passing over City Island and seeing the Enterprise from my seat (Helps having a 30 foot long name on the side of your boat) it gave me a moment of comfort – just a moment.

I looked at my watch, which thankfully Jill didn't have me stow for landing. I can still make it. And then we stopped on the tarmac again. This time for something the co-pilot referred to as a traffic jam. I think it was because they didn't want Jill in the city depressing millions of New Yorkers. We got to the gate and a grabbed my bag, running through the airport to my SUV. I floored it to the exit and inserted my parking ticket. The helpful attendant there smiled as I put in my credit card and then asked me if I wanted a receipt.

"No! No fucking receipt! Open the goddamn gate and let me out of here, dammit!" This time it was out loud. See? Northwest turned me into an asshole.

I called Ensign Ellen on the way, weaving through traffic on the Whitestone Bridge and then using the fire lane on City Island (now I know why they call it a "Pathfinder".) The crew was getting the ship ready and I was going to make it. Yes! "We need ice," she said.

"What the-! There's eight of you and nobody got fucking ice!" Back on the inside again. Calm down. I'm going to make it.

And made it, I did. With ice. We powered out to the starting area and got ready. And, I was impressed to see all who had made it, including Lt. Kurt who had a long night of commuting ahead.

Our start was perfect, even with the Klingon vessel Breakaway not giving us room at the start and after watching USS Tango collide with the Romulan ship Forza. We were second around the first windward mark and our spinnaker set went so well, Captain Dave on the foredeck asked, "Brittany who?"

Despite numerous amounts of prodding from Commander Richard (I just came off a flight with the Stewardess Bitch from Hell - you're not going to phase me,) I played the shifting winds and we gained tons on the lead boat.

Which brings me to a point. As I said last night, "I may not always be right, but I'm never in doubt." That being said, I truly value the crews' input and suggestions. I enjoy the feedback and communication. But, to be perfectly clear, my decisions, agree with them or not, are to be followed. If you can't, or won't, do that, please let me know and I'll find you another boat to sail on.

And, I know it's fun to watch the sunset or other boats, but let's at least try to pay attention to the Enterprise during maneuvers, OK?

The first take down was a bit sloppy and key people ditched their posts during key moments at the rounding. Add to that a windless hole at the third mark, and our fate was sealed.

Still, I was very pleased with the crews' performance in a variety of conditions. The first two legs showed us -- we can do this. Well done, everyone. Well done.

Details coming soon about the Volvo Rolex Montauk Worlds Regatta. Stay tuned!

Captain's Log: Stardate 10846.4
After a crazy day at work sending out over 15,000 emails (really), I just realized that I never finished drafting my log entry covering last night's events on (and off) the Enterprise. So, it is now, while I'm "decompressing" listening to the latest Coldplay album (it's really good) that I'm finishing it up.

Last night began with several of the Enterprise crew not sure where to gaze -- the dark skies in the distant north, the "Michelin Man" pants fashioned by Ensign Ellen or how Ensign Brittany's hair was reacting to the humidity - "frizzy" just doesn't do that justice.

We went out to the starting area and got the Enterprise ready only to see the dark clouds head our way. The last time I saw clouds like that, with dark dropping fingers that were swirling, parts of Westchester County were destroyed by a tornado (also on a Wednesday night -- see Stardate 10653.2). The lightning was putting on quite a show as well and we decided to take everything down and head back to orbit -- just to be safe.

The system blew past us leaving some clearing skies and two rainbows -- no wonder Kings Point has so much money. That pot of gold was right at the shoreline. With the wind filling in nicely, we saw the committee boat setting up to get something going, so we went back out and rigged the Enterprise for action in record time. Our start was perfect and there we were, leading the small fleet to the first mark at a steady Warp 5. Felt amazing!

And because we didn't have to tack to get to the first mark, the committee (rightfully, but painfully so) canceled the races for the evening. What a shame. We had them. We had them all.

We headed back to Starbase to enjoy the many munchies made available by Brittany and the usual box of wine provided by our Wine Procurement Officer, Ensign Ellen. But, Ensign Brittany's food offerings came with a price and out in the dark, late at night, she shared the news. Any later, and I'd feel like Willie Randolph.

Turns out Ensign Brittany is taking a one-month leave of absence while she crews on another ship destined for the Canary Islands. After some research on the Internet, I was quite surprised to learn that the Canary Islands are the leading area for the most serious of sailing incidents and boating-related deaths.

OK - I made that up. We'll miss you Britt. I'll forget the foredeck is there without the constant stream of laughter. Hurry back.

Captain's Log: Stardate 10844.5
Last night, the crew of the Enterprise was joined by Captain Ron LeNeve of North Sails to show us a thing or two about trimming our main and our jib. Most everyone was on board, all very eager to ask questions, watch and learn. Personally, I was very happy that the crew didn't start quoting things like "Whatever you say boss" or "If anything is gonna happen, it's gonna happen out there" or any other Captain Ron-isms.

Late once again was Lt. Flaks, who seems to be having trouble calculating the time it takes to carry the One Ring through Gondor and Rohan only to toss it into the fire pits of Mount Doom in Mordor, then make it to City Island by 6:30pm.



Jonathan, Sauron and Gandalf can wait, the Flagship of the Federation cannot.

Our start would have been great had the wind not shifted last minute, but we did exceptionally well upwind and had a kick-ass first spinnaker set, putting us in great position and making the bow team of Captain Dave and Ensign Brittany cocky enough to think the second would automatically go just as well. With two boat lengths to go to the second windward mark, the chute came out of the hatch and dragged several gallons of Western Long Island Sound. Still, on hoisting, the shower did feel good, especially after several days of intense heat around the tri-state area.

Meanwhile, Ensign Ellen, who is very upset at the amount of black-and-blue marks on her legs and after bleeding all over the warp controls with a cut finger, has petitioned Star Fleet to reconstruct the Enterprise's bridge out of entirely foam rubber. With the total costs in mind, Star Fleet instead decided on a new crew uniform for Ensign Ellen:



The finish of the race was not as great as we had hoped, despite the increased level of concentration and participation for Captain Ron's benefit. As Lt. Commander Mitch pointed out in a subspace message this morning, a 3% increase in speed would have put us in second, and an 8% increase would have put us in first -- demonstrating that this crew has the ability to be number one in something other than "spinnaker clusterfuck" on Google. We can do it. I was very proud at the effort everyone put in last night.

We learned quite a bit and I am sure that the crew is eager to put that new knowledge to use for next Wednesday's race and beyond.

Captain's Log: Stardate 10843.7
This past weekend, the more-dedicated members of the Enterprise crew joined together for the year's "pinnacle of WLIS," the City Island Cup. We didn't have enough personnel to run the Enterprise in its full capacity, which had me wondering about whether or not to continue a weekend racing program - perhaps people don't like to sail and race as much as I do. Even Lt. Kurt opted for root canal over racing on Saturday.

Even still, we were going to go non-spinnaker and try to give Artie on Snow Goose a run for his money and do our best to crush someone we'll just refer to as "Chester".

As we dropped the mooring on Saturday morning and started to leave orbit, and one person less than we expected, we began to decide crew positions. Then came the voicemails. Ensign Brittany was on her way, calling from the Bx29 bus and well over a half hour late. With the starting sequence scheduled to begin in just a few minutes, I suggested she give the launch driver buckets of money and beg him to take her out to the starting area.

A few minutes later, Captain Pat's small fishing boat was heading out our way with Brittany on board. More on that later.

The wind for the first race was unbearably light, but we made the best of it with expert sail handling. The subsequent races for that day and the next had more breeze (except for some crazy moments at the windward mark for Race 3, where the northerly and westerly were battling it out, causing us to tack five times without changing course) and the Enterprise crew, for the most part, had found their groove. I say "for the most part" with this conversation in mind that took place during a downwind/reaching leg:

Brittany: June, can you swing dance?
June: Yes.
Ellen: Wow. With the Big Band sound and everything?
June: Big Band is more foxtrot. Swing dancing is usually Jazz.
Brittany: And you can foxtrot too?
June: Yes.
Brittany: Wow June. Is there anything you can't do?
Edd: Trim main.

Nevertheless, I'm happy to report that we took three "guns" out of four races, correcting into second place for the series. Another trophy for the case -- nice! A job well done by all.

After the second day of racing, we went to Stuyvesant Yacht Club for some great food (the food at CIYC the day before was downright horrible) and a birthday cake provided by Ensign Ellen celebrating my 42nd anniversary on the planet.

Ensigns Brittany and June, determined not to return home on the subway, began working the crowd for Manhattanites with cars. We're still not quite sure how Britt was able to get a fisherman to motor her out to the starting area or how she was able to convince some guy named "Nils" to give her and June a ride home, but Ensign Ellen did report her kneepads were missing from her crew bag.

And, as a follow up to the above, I received a subspace message from Ensign June late last night that Nils' car broke down (out of gas) on the FDR near 106th Street. So, just to make sure I have this right, a single guy from another country offers two single women a ride in his car only to "run out of gas" in a bad neighborhood so they have to stay close to him. What a stroke of genius! The perfect plan. Except I think I saw it in a movie way back when. And the part of Nils was played by Ron Jeremy.

In all seriousness, though, I'm happy to hear they pushed the car in the rain and were able to get a gallon of gas from a station on First Avenue, making it home safely after a long delay.

All in all, a great way to spend my birthday weekend. Great racing. Great friends. And, we got to stimulate the economy through vast purchases of bottled water and sunblock.

Lt. Jonathan Flaks Personal Log: Stardate 10842.2
I miss my wife and my family so very much. After my recent multiple away missions, I'm going to ask the Captain to return to Starbase to let me off so I can spend some time at home with my loved ones. I realize that the winds are 10-15 tonight with partly cloudy skies, providing for excellent racing conditions, and that my status on the Enterprise may be strained, but my loyalty and dedication to my family must be my top priority. For me it will always be family first, sailing second.


Captain's Log: Stardate 10842.6
Last night's Wednesday Night Race began with light winds and a missing start mark; and ended with the night's race being canceled. As soon as we got back to the mooring, Lt. Jonathan called the launch right way with some story about how he's going to tell his wife that he asked to be dropped off before we started putting time with her ahead of time with us racing. "She'll never know the race was canceled," he said while grabbing his gear. "She'll think I'm the greatest husband ever."

I wish the night went better. After a frustrating week of trying to line up crew and all the little details of this weekend's City Island Cup, I really needed a night of racing. But with averages at 3.2 with gusts around 6-7 coupled with the Race Committee’s calls about a missing start mark, the evening was doomed from the start.

Besides, did the Race Committee really expect me, after leaving me voice mails that the mark was missing, to say "No problem, guys, I have spares right here in the aft cabin. Do you want yellow, white or neon green? Oh, I'm out of 75-pound anchors. Do you want a 90-pounder or will a 50 do?"

Missing last night was Ensign Brittany, who apparently, before yesterday, was the only one at her school that didn't have a stomach virus - and was feeling so left out that she started drinking from the student's milk straws. Thankfully she chose praying to the porcelain god over puking on the foredeck.

Also missing was Ensign June, who fell down the steps last week and bruised a rib. At last report, she was on the Internet reading The Onion News, The Daily show, and The Borowitz Report, believing every word. A plot began to form on the Enterprise about making a fake Yankees News website and distributing a story about how Jeter and A-Rod were killed in a car crash or how Matsui was discovered to be a Japanese Gay porn star named "PokeMan" and that Steinbrenner was both upset and yet strangely aroused by the news.

And, closing in on what looks to be the end of his Starfleet career, Lt. Kurt has had still no luck in perfecting transporter technology making himself able to get from NYC to the Enterprise and then to Long Island. Kurt, please try cloning instead. That way you can be in two places at once.