Our new marina dock is much friendlier than the one last year. It isn't the
people so much as it is that there are people. Last year, we were in the
land of boats that never go out. The boats don't get much more use where we
are now but the people are there nearly every night emptying beer cans,
grilling, and enjoying their bit of waterfront.



Almost every time I come in now, I can count on seeing a large friendly
fellow walking towards my slip to heave heroically on the top of the
lifeline stanchions to keep the boat from getting close enough that I can
step off instead of jumping or to heave the bow line so tight that I can't
bring the stern in.



Tonight, I was coming in with my son and one of his friends standing on each
side of the rail gate. We'd had an exhilarating sail and they were in the
mood to participate and let me talk them through the process. Actually,
there isn't much process at the new slip where current, wind, and prop walk
all align nearly as favorably as they did fiendishly at last year's slip
from hell. I motor in, stop the boat, step off, tie the lines. Why the
neighbors haven't noticed this by now and still insist on rushing over to
crack the gelcoat around my stanchion bases is just one of life's mysteries.



Anyway, there was one of the BFF's "Big Friendly Fellows", walking quickly
towards our slip. "Thanks,", I called, "We're all set." He stopped and
turned back. I turned my attention back towards the side of the boat. I
like to stop three inches off and it was a little hard to judge with two
large teenagers in the way. When I was about to put the boat in reverse and
looked up, there was the BFF standing right by the bow cleat. I knew the
boys were going to defer to him and flub my instructions so I said again,
"THANKS, We're all set. I want to talk them through it."



The boat stopped but he didn't. He grabbed the bow line as the boys stepped
off. I said again, "THANKS VERY MUCH. WE'VE GOT IT!"



He dropped the bow line in the water and went stalking off. I realized he
was angry. He shouted back over his shoulder as he left, "That's the way we
do things here. We're a friendly bunch and we help each other out." Well,
some days you just can't help being an asshole, (me, I mean). I guess he
won't be helping me again.



By this time of course, the boys, distracted by the exchange, had completely
lost track of the program. I grabbed the last foot of dockline just before
the bow swung into the next boat. Things were happening too quickly now to
get the boys engaged so they just ended up standing around watching me tie
up, again.



I was a drug counselor in a former lifetime and still remember one of the
books that was in the center. The title was, "Does Help, Help?" Good
question.



(Boy Rosalie, does that story about your fandango when the helper cast off
the line prematurely ever resonate.)



--

Roger Long