ASA is akin to a bar, a sailor bar of sorts. Most of us sit at
the big table in the middle, drink rum and talk about sailing and
other varied topics. There's a smaller table where the racers
sit. And one for political talk. Then there's that small table
by the men's room, where the girly men hang out.
The 'lurkers' stop in for one drink at the bar and may, or may
not say hi as they walk out.
We built a separate room for the Canadians, but they keep
sneaking back into the main bar.

Like any other bar, we have our share of stupid, loud, obnoxious
drunks who stumble around call themselves 'Commodore' and annoy
everybody.
Occasionly , rats from other bars stop in and try to start
fights. We deal with them and send them on their merry way.

Then there's Bob. He cleans the bathrooms, in exchange for free
drinks. He'll sit at a table, blabbing on and on about nothing.
The sailors tell him to get lost, but he just drones on and on
and on, until the bartender, Thom, yells for him to clean up the
puke in the bathroom.

Shall we start a tab?

Scotty