Somehow, without even knowing it, I became what I was trying desperately not to become, an interloper, a carpetbagger, a user… of an old friend’s generosity. There I was, on the wrong side of a line that I had no idea I had crossed. All along, I was thinking that I was keeping to the timetable that Ted and I had agreed upon, having the boat off his dock on or before the first week of June. I had scheduled both of Eileen’s eye surgeries so that I could be there and drive her to all four cataract lens adjustment appointments since she couldn’t see clearly or drive herself. But that all changed in Georgia, at 1:20 pm, Thursday, June 2, driving back to Ft. Lauderdale… back to the boat.
I’m sure that everyone has experienced this at one time or another, you’re happy, you’re smiling, you’re singing to the beat of a song you knew on the radio, your days are working out as you planned, and life is good… all the while unbeknownst to you a nuclear-tipped missile is streaking toward your head, about to blow up your peaceful world. You have no idea it’s on the way until impact… My missile made its impact when I got a call from Ted, I told him I was on my way back, and barring any problems or evacuation orders, I’d be on my way tomorrow or the next day. We discussed the arrival of Tropical Storm Alex and agreed that it didn’t look like much. Both of us had lived in Florida long enough to judge Tropical Storms and hurricanes accurately. Ted told me to take the time I needed to get underway. Then only a half-hour later, Ted called again and asked where I was. I thought it a strange question given that we had just talked, but no matter. I said, ‘I’m still in Georgia, on my way to Lauderdale, and wouldn’t be arriving until late evening’. He said, ‘the boat has to be gone by tomorrow’, I told him, ‘I’d make every effort to make that happen, but there are things I can’t control’. He repeated, ‘the boat has to be out by tomorrow’. I said, ‘got it’. Ted made it very clear. All I could do at this point is hope that when I got to the boat everything would be ship shape, batteries charged, and ready to go. After hanging up with Ted, I spent the rest of my trip making telephone calls looking for a slip to go to in the event the storm was worse than it seemed. Call after call, time after time, the news was not good, ‘sorry no room’. There wasn’t a single marina slip anywhere in the Miami-Ft. Lauderdale-Pompano Beach area, with TS Alex arriving they were gobbled-up quickly. My only hope now is to find an anchorage somewhere. From experience down here, I knew that there are only a few places for sailboats. Another alternative would be heading out of Port Everglades into the Atlantic, which honestly wouldn’t be wise, but it may be the only option. The real problem, the real uncertainty… there’s no way to know if there will be room until you arrive at the anchorage… it’s traveling blind from place to place hoping for the best.
At this juncture, it’s important to understand that I think Ted had every right to ‘kick my ass to the curb’, it’s his place. I just wish, it could have happened differently, more peacefully, with much less conflicting sentiment. The one thing I can say is that I’ve disliked a lot of people over my lifetime. But it takes a cold heart to turn someone out into a Tropical Storm, on the water, in a boat, regardless of the consequences…
At 9:30 pm I arrived at my brother’s house in Fort Lauderdale, exhausted from the 13-hour drive, I tell him I must leave tomorrow, period. He fully understood the weight of those words as well as what I wasn’t saying and he didn’t ask any questions, just said ‘what do you need me to do?’.
Have you ever wondered how one thing cascades into another and then another, or if inanimate objects… objects with no brain or soul as we define them, have powers we don’t yet understand? Keep reading this account of my return trip to North Carolina… it might answer some of those questions, and probably raise others.