A few people did not show up Saturday, including the commodore of the Drinking Club, who suffered a severe stroke that morning. Those who made it should have stayed home for none of them had any business being on any boat, much less one as complicated as Candlewind. Osprey, another ridiculously complicated yacht, also happened to be in port between long excursions and joined the trip. Candlewind took aboard seventeen people, up from the usual nine for which it was designed.

The officers and organizers inside the Drinking Club communicated about as well as the U.S. and Soviet astronauts. They bickered over personnel assignments while someone placed all the food for both boats aboard Candlewind.

Because he exists, because he is irritating, because I don't want to be near him, it was inevitable that Guy, a previous student of mine, would be on Candlewind. I also got someone named Wayland who got sick in seas that were about six inches high. There were two guys named Lynn. The younger one had no idea how to sail and had never been on a boat. The older one had a full white beard except for the part right under his nose which was mostly brown. It looked like that part of his mustache suffered from continuous exposure to a relentless stream of snot. I was unable to look at his face the whole weekend.

Sandy, a cute little woman who claimed experience on everything from dinghies to eighty-foot yachts, joined us. On her arm was one of the most dim-witted men I have ever encountered. Sandy made no effort to hide her lust and spent the weekend intertwined with dim-boy who also spent the weekend in a queasy, useless state. I never ascertained if he was sick from the motion or sick of Sandy. It could have been an act, designed to enamor Sandy, but I cannot picture dim-boy having that type of creative thought.

Michelle introduced herself as the cook. I don't know the medical condition that exposes teeth so harshly, but Michelle had it along with a fearsome overbite. Plus, she smoked about a pack a day that left sizable tar deposits in the gaps near the roots that glistened when the sun hit them just right. Maybe dim-boy was queasy from imagining that Michelle would be preparing his food.