Another happy hour (no patent pending; no copyright)

 Rainy and overcast.  Tony and Diane had offered to host HH last Friday.  Nobody had their phone numbers so we didn't know if the party was called off or not.  Debbie and Wayne (landlubbers, house renters) texted me at three for the decision.  Ever intrepid, I jumped in the dinghy ankle-deep in water and bailed during the rain.  Then I motored over to Tony's boat.  "I want to drink!" said Tony, standing shirtless with a drink in his hand.  Good enough.  I motored on through the rain, informing the mooring community that happy hour was on.  Back to the boat, text Debbie that I would pick them up at the dock at five.  Feeble attempt to dry off.

Tony and Diane are recent additions.  Actually, re-additions.  Their boat has been here for some time; they went back to NZ to visit and just returned.  Their boat is a Lagoon 440 catamaran they bought from a charter company.  Four staterooms, four heads, and a massive covered back deck.  See accompanying photos and drool.

So we all arrived at five, somewhat bedraggled due to the rain.  Tony and I drank G&Ts.  Everyone else did red wine.  The rain eventually stopped and Tony cranked the tunes.  Ever hear eight senior citizens singing 'Highway to Hell' at the top of their lungs?  Don't put it on your bucket list.

Tony was a commercial fisherman from NZ.  He caught hoke for McDonalds fish filet sandwiches.  Often 50000 pounds at a time.  He said "We would come back with only the pilot house above water. We looked like a submarine."  I asked about buoyancy - how did the boat stay afloat?  "The fish were the buoyancy, mate."  I don't think I'll go fishing with Captain Tony...

Wayne almost took a bath getting back into the dinghy.  He managed to hang on to both the catamaran and the dinghy as his ass hung precariously between the two.  It's not trivial to board a dinghy after happy hour, folks.