While racing, Marie smoked her cigars and proposed we sleep together in the aft cabin. Please, not now dear, I'm on the job. Matt, a friend from The Club who offered his expertise, told uncounted dirty jokes, sang dirty songs, sang show tunes and declared himself even a bigger wise-ass than me. Guy waxed on how wonderful The School was and how great it would be to get a couple of guys together to charter a boat for a season. I slept a grand total of ten minutes, otherwise listening to music, reading or just plain daydreaming both on and off watch. The wind cycled between east (warm) and west (not), from zero to five knots. Mostly, we wondered why Anthem could not shake the shadow of a little twenty-seven footer. A couple of large, heavy, furniture yachts reached all around us while we poked along at the speed of a duck, walking. Was it the bottom, which the diver cleaned only half of before running out of air? Was it the 2.7 million pounds of luggage everyone brought along?