Captain's Log: Stardate 10952.1
Last night's events started with the pleasant surprise of seeing construction actually beginning on the new Morris Yacht and Beach Club house. There were fences up, mounds of dirt, holes in the ground and heavy machinery - enough to make Lt. Jonathan (and these are his words) "freak out" with worries of how he'll get to the boat. Thankfully myself and other members of the crew took a moment and calculated that the best way to get the the dock would be to WALK AROUND the fenced area and then, Viola!, dock!

The Morris launch, however, had a "freak out" of its own, not able to start and leaving a growing number of captains and crew stranded at the dock just staring at the 15-knot breezes and sunny skies. After about twenty minutes, I could start seeing some tears. Launch Operator Danny (he's a Star Wars fan, but hey, nobody's perfect) and I looked over the engine to see if we could spot the problem. I pointed out a hanging wire, but we couldn't see where it would attach to.

The committee boat came by to pick up its crew and offered to give me and Commander Jory a ride to the Enterprise so we can bring her in as well. But, by the time Jory got the mooring lines undone, the launch was repaired and on its way out to us.

During all of this, Lt. Kurt called to say he wasn't going to make it and then went into some yada, yada, blah, blah excuse about some new project at work. I think he's now 3 for 8. With that kind of record, he can pitch for the Mets.

Our start was close to perfect and our run upwind had us round the first mark in third place. The expert timing of the crew in setting the chute had us very quickly pass number two and we continued downwind catching up to number one, rounding just behind Chaika and battling her all the way back upwind. We passed them, they passed us, we passed them again.

But it was all our attention to each other that let the number three boat, helmed by The Terrorist, pass us both. Still, at the finish, there was only seconds between us. While yes, there were a few things we could have done better, all in all, it was a well-run race.

Back at the mooring, before heading out to Dempsey's, Mitch passed out some Veggie Chips and announced to everyone that he was in Therapy. When nobody seemed surprised at the announcement, he played it off like it was some kind of Milton-Bradley-esque board game that adults can play. And, to quickly "cover his tracks", it looks like Mitch stayed up all night to create a website selling the game. Still, we wondered what the therapist hourly rate could be for marital therapy when one of the partners prefers a goat.

At Dempsey's, I calculated results while we ordered enough wings to explain why chickens can't fly. When we asked where Courtney was, our waitress replied that "She doesn't work Wednesdays any longer."

What did you do, Jonathan?