Captain's Log: Stardate 10867.5
Yesterday started out with me in a great mood -- I received in the mail the latest issue of WindCheck magazine and, on the last page, was an article about me in "Sound People" based on an interview held in my office a month earlier. The article talks about EBYRA, my ongoing policy to bring new people into the sport of yacht racing, the crew of the Enterprise and even this Captain's Log.

Often hilarious ("Dammit Jim, I'm a doctor, not a winch grinder.") and always irreverent, this blog names names and pulls no punches.

Irreverent? Irreverent?? Fuck you. :-)

And the best part of the day was that it was race night -- the second to last Wednesday Night Race of the season. The weather was looking great, key people were returning and the conditions were ours.

Missing for the mission were Lt. Kurt (I guess mommy and daddy were busy,) Ensign Brittany (who claims she's homeless and looking for a new apartment in NYC -- we think she's looking for one with a nursery,) Crewman Blake (saying he had to work for 'the man', but clearly not for 'the captain') and Ensign June, who had to go to Boston. She claims it was for work, but we think it's because she's finally wised up and ditched the Yankees to become a Red Sox fan.

We told Commander Richard that, for the night, he was to be June. He had to run the starboard side of the pit and be sure to, along the way, tell long-winded stories that are completely off base with whatever was going on at the moment.

And, when possible, if something can be said in eight words or less to, instead, use no less than fifty words.

Our start was well-executed and it was a thrill to not only see Whirlwind and Crossbow called over early but also feel the Enterprise accelerate out of the massive wind shadow of Captain Ohstrom's behemoth Star. Amazingly enough, the Romulan warbird Breakaway kind of, well, broke away and led the pack to the upwind mark, with the Enterprise rounding not far behind.

Our first chute set was perfect, but I broke one of my rules going downwind -- Don't jibe until at least five minutes after Richard insists that we must jibe now. We went too early and lost some footing along the way, especially during our last-second take-down-jibe-and-jibe-again maneuver around the second mark. The last time I saw anything that hideous was when William Shatner was wearing a wetsuit on an episode of Boston Legal.

Things were still all right until the second spinnaker set at the last mark. As the chute came out of the hatch, we heard a ripping noise and all I could think was "Dear God, I hope that's Ensign Ellen's pants." But, no such luck. With a good hoist, the chute was up, but not in one piece. The crew did a great job of getting what was left of it down and sailing the last leg with the jib (at Warp 8 no less, thanks to a nearby storm cell,) but I was so upset at this point that I considered chugging down the boxed wine.

We ended the night at The Snug, still making it home in time to catch The Daily Show's coverage of the Republican National Convention live from the stalls in the men's room near Gate C11 of the Minnesota/St. Paul airport. Link: "The Cream of the Republican Party."

The chute is back at UK for repairs (thank you Tom Nye and the gang) and assuming all goes without incident during Hanna, we'll be ready for next week.