Chapter 59:

A DIFFERENT KIND OF GUMMIES

59. In the morning, I visited the marina office. I thanked them for their very accommodating service. I made no mention of Jennifer’s gender identity crisis, her impending surgeries nor the sex we had enjoyed last night. I simply thanked them, paid my bill, and left.

Back in the Intracoastal Waterway, I continued my journey northbound. As I was motoring along, bored shitless, I surfed the web on my phone. When I checked my email, I had a message from an old college buddy of mine. He was one of the six of us who had hung out together. They were planning a reunion of sorts although it wasn’t any seminal year or anything. Just an impromptu get together to relive some fun times.

I emailed him back for particulars. It was planned for the following weekend in Atlanta. They were going to rent some suites at the upscale Ritz-Carlton. Arrive Friday evening, check out Sunday. “Count me in!” I replied.

This was Wednesday. If I could locate a fair sized marina near an airport by tonight, that would give me Thursday to get settled. I’d need to leave my boat there while I flew to Atlanta for our guy’s weekend. Searching marinas north of me, the closest one anywhere near an airport was Titusville. It was only about 30 miles from the Orlando Airport.

I could make it to Titusville if I hurried. I pushed the throttle forward, getting the RPMs up to the redline. I wasn’t too worried about running my motor at full throttle all day long. My motor is a diesel Yanmar. These motors are desirable for inboard boats because they are well built and, as one mechanic told me, “they like to be used and abused. They are designed to run at high RPM for hours on end. Very reliable and trustworthy.” Mine has been run at high RPM for 10 hours straight with no ill effects.

I called ahead to one marina looking for a transient slip. They were booked solid. Damn. Called another, same thing. Shit. My charts showed an open public anchorage right across from the downtown area. But I was leery of leaving my boat for several days in public and with the possibility of dragging anchor I ruled that out. I tried yet a third marina. I struck paydirt! Yes, they had a slip available. Next, I went online and booked a flight from Orlando to Atlanta and back. One hour flight.

With all the pieces in place, I relaxed at the helm. My mind waffled around, touching on recent events. I wondered how my initial mom/daughter passengers, Pam and Christy, were doing.