SETTLING IN... still more changes (part 61f)

As we’d done in years past, to save money, Buddy drove the four of us home leaving my car behind on the island. The plan was for him to pick us up the next morning and then we’d leave his car on the mainland and walk on the ferry and then to the clubhouse. Elle and I were bruised and sore and were happy to see calm winds as we rode the ferry to the island. I was anxious to see just how many boats had actually finished and when I saw the posted results I almost had a heart attack. I wasn’t listed as having won. I showed up as being disqualified. Any racer can protest another racer and once the protest is acknowledged by the race officials they hold a hearing to make a determination. I’d never been close enough to another racer the whole day to have committed a foul. Not only that but I’d never been notified that I was being protested. I was very upset! I went looking for the race officials but was told that I would have to wait until the races for the day were over before being able to speak to them. Needless to say that when I went out on the racecourse that morning I was almost a raging lunatic.

Fortunately, the winds had died down to almost nothing. Three of my competition on Friday had to withdraw on Saturday due to damage to their boats and/or equipment. There were five people who hadn’t sailed (lucky for them!) who were now competing, including the twins, Pam and Penny, my sailing friends from many years before. I managed to control my rage enough to concentrate on the race at hand and was able to draw from my years of experience with the local tidal and water currents and pulled out a win. After the last boat finished I sailed back past the race officials and sarcastically asked if I was protested out of this race too but didn’t get a response.

Elle had a bit of a problem in that there was no logical way for her to get wet like she did prior to the races at our home club. The boats got hoisted into the water and then the crews climbed down a ladder to get in which meant her clothes were dry when we started. With little wind and no waves to get her bottom wet, when she peed it left a very noticeable spot on her butt. Because I was so upset when we'd left the dock I gave no thought to Elle and that she’d have a problem when we came ashore for lunch. She ended up staying in the boat to avoid the obvious embarrassment and I got Carol to join her. She wasn’t very happy with me.

Being around some of the ”old timers“ that I hadn’t seen in at least two years helped my demeanor. We got caught up with what each of us was doing in our lives. The twins had just graduated from college and were taking the Summer off, just ”goofing“. One of the guys had gotten married but his wife didn’t like sailing so he felt that this might be his last Summer of competition. When it was time to go out for the afternoon race I was in a pretty good mood. I suggested to Elle that I bring her change of clothes with us and that if she had to she could at least do it in the boat before we came ashore. I could see from the look on her face that she wasn’t thrilled with that idea.

We pretty much drifted around the racecourse and the best I could do was finish second. The guy who had finished second to me in the morning (John) won so that meant we were tied and the race on Sunday would decide who the champion would be. Again, Elle was faced with coming ashore with a wet butt. I finally convinced her to at least take off her shorts and to sit, in her panties, on the dry part of them and to try and draw away the wetness. She made me sail away from the rest of the boats which made me somewhat mad. One of the benefits of finishing up front was that you didn’t have to wait as long at the hoist. The one nice thing, though, was that I got her to sit inside the boat with her legs open. I told her that it would allow her crotch to dry so it wouldn’t show when she put her dry shorts on. She did it but had one of "those" looks on her face as she sat there.

As promised, I finally got to see the race officials. I was told that they had been the ones to disqualify me. The reason... I’d observed a mark that wasn’t specified on the race circular. I’d been sailing and racing for a dozen years and had never heard of such a rule. I asked if I could protest their decision and was told, rather sternly, that it wasn’t a good idea. It was certainly not my year for dealing with bureaucracy.

At that point in time panty peeks, VPL's or DP’s were not high on my priority list. Neither Buddy, Jimbo or Rex had ever heard of a disqualification like mine. As we all walked to the ferry the four of us were in deep discussion while the women walked on ahead. The foot traffic on the ferry was always heavy on weekends. There were only seats for about a dozen people so most were all forced to stand next to hot automobiles. There was a young woman in a Summer dress who was complaining about it and at first we paid no attention. We were about halfway to the mainland when Jimbo nudged me and nodded his head towards the stairway to the passenger compartment. The woman was standing about four steps up and every so often a puff of air would blow her skirt up. When she’d push the front down the back would come up. It was quite comical and I did get a quick glimpse of light blue panties before she returned to the main deck. Just that little peek took my mind off the disqualification and by the time we landed I had my focus on Ruthie’s butt, searching for a VPL. I was close to being back to "normal" again.

To be continued...