Tahiti to Hawaii
I took my wife and my young son on a Pacific cruise. It was very contrarian of me. I was later accused of being a business contrarian by the Baltimore magazine. In this case, I would take the cruise in reverse, pick my own flight not the one offered to port of departure, and bring a two year old on the love boat. Joey would be the only child, to the delight of few and the horror of most on the Pacific Princess. My son was the smallest full-fare passenger on a cruise from Papeete to Hawaii.
We flew out of Baltimore on Air France, in smoky first class in a DC-10. The non-smoking section on a French airplane is an oxymoron. The flight was certainly too long. A monitor in the cabin showed the flight path slowly completing a line from North America. After a short stop in LA, we continued south across the open pacific to land in Tahiti’s capital. I had really wanted to get right on the ship, but we stayed at the Sofhotel because we were a day early, being turned away at the gangplank. The Gaugain museum was closed to my disappointment, and we didn’t get to see much of the capital. To be frank, it looked just like Hawaii, but not as clean.
The cruise seemed forced for Rhonda whom I found out only years later that she resented my selection of travel destinations. As a veteran’s wife, her mother had made one free trip to Europe romantically hanging from straps in a C-130 and always talked of her "Rome". Typical infrequent traveler, once in a lifetime and all that crap. Well I wasn’t that enamored with Europe after my trip to Russia and the Ukraine 2 years before with a UN group. Then I hadn’t started my family history quest, or things could have been different. I liked the wilder, more ragged destinations. I never knew it then, I have always followed the ghost of captain James Cook. I seem oddly to be drawn to his ports of call, nearly all of them, long before I read his biography only a few short years ago.
The most I can say about this cruise was that we ate a lot of good food. It was an older retired crowd for the most part. Lots of semi-rich blue-collar small business owner types, like builders and plumbing contractors. I enjoyed shooting off the bow, and I won the skeet tournament. I didn’t bother to pick-up my trophy. Joey loved the band and sat on the Philippino guitar players lap at dinner. Rhonda was a bit sullen, reading in our topside cabin as the Pacific passed by. Years later Joey would remember the names of the restaurant manager and chef, Seppi and Luca.
To stay occupied I like to play blackjack in the little casino on the giant ship. I spent most of my time there when not eating or wandering from lounge to lounge. The dealers weren’t very good. One girl named Liberty was particularly cute. But she was a lousy dealer. She had also helped us with Joey and brought things we requested to our cabin.
Well, I won nearly all the time at cards. I was playing next to a pretty but burned-out young blonde. I forget her name, but she had money to burn. I found out later she was an heiress to the Seagram’s booze fortune. She said to me one night, "You don’t like me very much, do you?" I told her that a pretty young rich girl shouldn’t be so dissipated. Actually we did like each other. I guess she was about 25.
I ended up with about 3000 bucks in the bank when the boat stopped. It paid all of my incidental charges on the cruise. Things such as the shooting, the spa, phone calls, and booze were extra. Its hard to think it wasn’t all inclusive with one ticket costing almost 10 grand.
I had one phone call on the 10 days at sea.
A voice from the bridge announced my name and said I had a satellite call. We were probably 6000 miles from nowhere, in the middle of the Pacific. It was my squeamish office manager at the home office telling me we were losing our biggest client. I called him and it was no problem. That client, Chrysler Corporations real estate group always threatened to pull the contract to get a better price. It was just a game we played.
I remember passing Christmas Island and I had planned to fly back to that remote island to fish. But the divorce came and I never made it there.
We stopped at Bora Bora and Moorea for a day and we rented a car to drive around. It was a third world kind of place, mostly poor unfriendly people. We ate lunch at Marlon Brando’s restaurant and played along with the crowd in that rustic little hut. I have a great photo of Joey naked on the beach there-next to a beached rowboat that says "hotel Bora Bora".
There was a little ceremony at the equator. We were crossing again from the south after flying over it days before. It was no big deal. Some of the crew had cold pasta dumped on their heads and dressed in funny hats, and drank too much. I thought of my dad’s "crossing the line" ceremony certificate I had. It was from when his troop ship, the SS Hughes, took him and a thousand other soldiers to the Philippines in WWII. It was a brightly coloured certificate with a dragon on it.
There was a formal ball to meet the Captain and crew. I had brought my Dior tux for the occasion, looking forward to it with Rhonda and Joey. Well Rhonda refused to go. So I, dressed to kill, be-rolexed and slick went and drank with the crowd. I didn’t stay long; just a little wine and time to enjoy the feel of my formalwear.
Our last stop was Lahaina on Maui. The day was spent in port so the tourists could look around and shop. We had already toured the island, so Rhonda and Joey stayed on board. It is truly a beautiful place, but way too touristy and very expensive. I just decided to shuttle ashore and hang around the harbour. I have always enjoyed looking at the boats and talking to any fisherman that may have been out seeking big billfish.
There is a bar right at the dock there. It’s a small place and at least then was unpretentious. I went in for a beer and quickly struck a conversation at the bar. An unshaven skinny guy a little younger than me started talking about Raro Tonga. I guess because I told him I had just come from Tahiti. He said the fishing was great on that south sea island, and the women friendly. He encouraged me to go someday. After a few rounds, he asked me if I had seen any whales, humpbacks. I told him, a few, at a distance. Well he said he had a fast boat and would take me out into the whale pods outside the harbour. I thought close approach was illegal, but I said sure.
He grabbed a couple girls from the bar he knew, almost like props, and we walked over to his boat. It was around 25 feet long and sported a huge engine. We flew out across the crystal water and only in minutes slowed and approached some whales. He cut the engines. We all cracked beers and exchanged small talk and admired the almost plastic swimsuit model girls with us.
I was concerned about getting back to the Princess. And this guy was in no hurry. I started to think if I missed the boat I would have to take a shuttle flight over to Lihue to meet the boat. It was only minutes to spare, and the Princess, way in the distance a distant tiny white dot, sounded its horn. All aboard. My host seem totally unconcerned. I was starting to panic as he snoozed over the beers, whales, and girls. The whales were right there among us, close enough to touch. It was hard to believe something that huge could be that graceful, gentle.
Finally as I heard the final toot from the ship as he cranked up the engine. Pulling slowly away from the whale pod, he gunned it. The boat was blazingly fast. We flew across the water and in only a few minutes we approached the moving now Princess. The crew at the closing door waved us away angrily. I waved my ticket pass madly and finally, after what seemed eternity we were motioned over to the leaving cruise ship. We pulled along side, the walkway was removed, and 2 burly crewmen lifted me aboard. Many passengers watched this happen from above. After going up to the front observation area people said they had cruised for years and had never seen anything like that before. It was quite a short stop on Maui!
The trip ended for us there in Hawaii. It was supposed to end in Honolulu, but we always stayed in a condo at Poipu, on Kauai, when in Hawaii. So it was a big hassle having to get a customs officer to check us in at the port on Kauai. I had a cab take us to the rental car, and we went for the next 2 weeks to stay at our always condo in Poipu.
It wasn’t our condo on Kauai. I had been visiting Hawaii, all the islands, several years at this point. I always flew first class then.Well that often engenders a friendly response from airline staff. Once making a reservation, an American airlines girl suggested I call a pilot friend of hers, Chuck, who had a place at Poipu. He was never there, and might rent it out. So I called this guy and just sent him a check whenever I wanted to go to Hawaii. He would send a key and we went.
This was the last place, just before Alexis was born, that we all went as a family. I mean Shel as nanny, Rhonda, me, and Joey. I had photos of Joey with the black crabs on the beach.
Another photo is of me holding Joey in my arms on a charter fishing boat. My tired son resting in my arms as I troll for whatever, I think I caught a Bonito that day, which I cooked for dinner back at Chuck’s condo. I love that photo. Most of those albums are lost now, so I cherish what little exists outside my mind.
One of our favourite places was a "cook it yourself" restaurant. They had great steak, fish, or burgers you cooked yourself. There was a fancy resort where we took a small boat to get to the restaurant. I think it was the Hilton there. I remember the food being expensive and disappointing. The waitress referred to Shel as our daughter. It was a common mistake for years.
I never went back to Kauai after hurricane Iniki hit. I wonder what has changed. That island was another home to me, just as Anchorage got to be. I would often go directly from Anchorage to Hawaii if I didn’t feel like going back to work. Well, it wasn’t direct. I had to change planes in Frisco or Seattle.
One of my best Hawaiian memories is a trip alone with Rhonda before my son was born; we stayed at a then nouveaux jet-set place called Kona, at the Hyatt. It was really nice, little cabanas on the beach. Really good 5 star restaurants. Kona is on the big island, so I took her to see Volcano Park and Mauna Loa. It was cute- she was scared of the pocked earth and smoke rising from fumaroles. We stayed at a little lodge, called volcano lodge near the mountaintop. Even in summer it was cold enough for a fireplace at that elevation. It was romantic, and one of my favourite memories with my first wife.
We flew over to Lahina on Maui and I took here out to see Hana, at the end of the road there. It’s a nice twisty ride thru the jungle and pristine beaches, some with black sand and the always-bright blue ocean. We climbed the mountain on Maui to the astronomical observatory. It was in the clouds, on top of the world. It was almost too high for easy breathing. On the way up was a small pub where we stopped for lunch. There were flocks of jewel-like hummingbirds feeding there. We could almost have touched them.
Some years later, I would take Shel to Maui and a stay at the Hyatt in Lahina. We never got out of the room. To be young and in love again!
The little town of Hilo on the big island was like a trip back into the 50’s. I could live there, and still might.
At south point on the big island is the southern most point of the United States. It’s a wild place, at least then. A few WWII bunkers remained. There were electrical windmills there, which the whirring of always scared my son when he was little. Later, Shel and I would have wine and cheese picnics in all these places. We both still love south point, and the memory of it being just Shel, my son, and I. I will always think of that as my real family, although an impossible dream, a spectre of the soul.
The Last Bahamian trip
Shel and I took a trip to Abaco Island in the Bahamas. A radio friend of mine had a condo with a ham station on the beach. It was ok, but quite pedestrian compared to Windermere. There was a great little restaurant there and a bakery where a pleasant round smiling very black lady made the best pineapple upside down cake I have even had. Well I wanted to go fishing, and take Shel out beyond the reef to nakedly sunbath. I found a boat for rent from one John Cash. John was a typical stiff white Bahamian, and had a 20 footer to rent. So we cut a deal, packed a lunch and headed out of the bay towards Whale Cay ("key").
It was a beautiful warm day, with a light breeze. I anchored the boat from the rear, cracked a beer, and dropped a line. It was fun to catch such a variety of colourful fish on the reef edge. Sometimes a big (probably a shark) would grab my bait and just break the light line off.
We had a few beers and dozed off naked in the gentle waves.
Hitting my head on the hull awakened me. The mid-day swells had given way to stronger late afternoon on-shore winds, thrashing the little boat, anchored far from shore. I told Shel we had to go, and tried to pull the rear stern-secured anchor line up. Well, being a burly guy then, I just pulled the stern down, as the anchor was coral-stuck just as another wave splashed over the engine cutout in the hull. I tried to start the engine, but it was water logged.
Suddenly, another splash came over the stern and the boat twisted. I told Shel to jump, as I grabbed the cooler in one hand as a float, and the boat rolled, ejecting us both into the choppy Caribbean. I couldn’t see Shel. She later said she was trapped under the hull and felt a divine hand pull her to safety.
Her Blonde head popped up a few yards away, screaming. "I am going to die"..Over and over, hysterical. (I ponder now why she wasn’t concerned enough to scream, "We are going to die"…?) It took what seemed forever to calm her, attach her to the cooler and calm her down. We floated mostly naked with all possessions at the bottom of the sea.
Whale Cay, a little desert island (really!) was about 400 yards distant, swim-able. The problem now was we had company. In the clear water, very large and ominous looking barracuda were eyeing us. Actually, they were far more intrigued with the flotilla of bologna sandwiches discharged from the cooler.
There was a large yacht cruising along about a mile distant with obnoxious music blaring. They had watched in entertained enjoyment as I scuttled my boat, and headed our way just long enough for us our screams were to be ignored. Well, a whole boatload of very pale Bahamian lobster collecting rich boys pulled us out of the waters off whale cay.
They gave Shel a T-shirt (later to ask for it back) and tried to right out stubbornly capsized craft, and dove to get Shel’s bag with our keys, ID, and cash, credit cards, etc. Well, we finally had to call John Cash on the radio. He came out with a famous fat man and local guru, "Samson", to assist and tow the upside down boat back to the harbour.
Well it cost me about 3 grand in damages, and Shel won’t boat with me again. I am almost sure this was the event on my last trip to the Bahamas.
I took my wife and my young son on a Pacific cruise. It was very contrarian of me. I was later accused of being a business contrarian by the Baltimore magazine. In this case, I would take the cruise in reverse, pick my own flight not the one offered to port of departure, and bring a two year old on the love boat. Joey would be the only child, to the delight of few and the horror of most on the Pacific Princess. My son was the smallest full-fare passenger on a cruise from Papeete to Hawaii.
We flew out of Baltimore on Air France, in smoky first class in a DC-10. The non-smoking section on a French airplane is an oxymoron. The flight was certainly too long. A monitor in the cabin showed the flight path slowly completing a line from North America. After a short stop in LA, we continued south across the open pacific to land in Tahiti’s capital. I had really wanted to get right on the ship, but we stayed at the Sofhotel because we were a day early, being turned away at the gangplank. The Gaugain museum was closed to my disappointment, and we didn’t get to see much of the capital. To be frank, it looked just like Hawaii, but not as clean.
The cruise seemed forced for Rhonda whom I found out only years later that she resented my selection of travel destinations. As a veteran’s wife, her mother had made one free trip to Europe romantically hanging from straps in a C-130 and always talked of her "Rome". Typical infrequent traveler, once in a lifetime and all that crap. Well I wasn’t that enamored with Europe after my trip to Russia and the Ukraine 2 years before with a UN group. Then I hadn’t started my family history quest, or things could have been different. I liked the wilder, more ragged destinations. I never knew it then, I have always followed the ghost of captain James Cook. I seem oddly to be drawn to his ports of call, nearly all of them, long before I read his biography only a few short years ago.
The most I can say about this cruise was that we ate a lot of good food. It was an older retired crowd for the most part. Lots of semi-rich blue-collar small business owner types, like builders and plumbing contractors. I enjoyed shooting off the bow, and I won the skeet tournament. I didn’t bother to pick-up my trophy. Joey loved the band and sat on the Philippino guitar players lap at dinner. Rhonda was a bit sullen, reading in our topside cabin as the Pacific passed by. Years later Joey would remember the names of the restaurant manager and chef, Seppi and Luca.
To stay occupied I like to play blackjack in the little casino on the giant ship. I spent most of my time there when not eating or wandering from lounge to lounge. The dealers weren’t very good. One girl named Liberty was particularly cute. But she was a lousy dealer. She had also helped us with Joey and brought things we requested to our cabin.
Well, I won nearly all the time at cards. I was playing next to a pretty but burned-out young blonde. I forget her name, but she had money to burn. I found out later she was an heiress to the Seagram’s booze fortune. She said to me one night, "You don’t like me very much, do you?" I told her that a pretty young rich girl shouldn’t be so dissipated. Actually we did like each other. I guess she was about 25.
I ended up with about 3000 bucks in the bank when the boat stopped. It paid all of my incidental charges on the cruise. Things such as the shooting, the spa, phone calls, and booze were extra. Its hard to think it wasn’t all inclusive with one ticket costing almost 10 grand.
I had one phone call on the 10 days at sea.
A voice from the bridge announced my name and said I had a satellite call. We were probably 6000 miles from nowhere, in the middle of the Pacific. It was my squeamish office manager at the home office telling me we were losing our biggest client. I called him and it was no problem. That client, Chrysler Corporations real estate group always threatened to pull the contract to get a better price. It was just a game we played.
I remember passing Christmas Island and I had planned to fly back to that remote island to fish. But the divorce came and I never made it there.
We stopped at Bora Bora and Moorea for a day and we rented a car to drive around. It was a third world kind of place, mostly poor unfriendly people. We ate lunch at Marlon Brando’s restaurant and played along with the crowd in that rustic little hut. I have a great photo of Joey naked on the beach there-next to a beached rowboat that says "hotel Bora Bora".
There was a little ceremony at the equator. We were crossing again from the south after flying over it days before. It was no big deal. Some of the crew had cold pasta dumped on their heads and dressed in funny hats, and drank too much. I thought of my dad’s "crossing the line" ceremony certificate I had. It was from when his troop ship, the SS Hughes, took him and a thousand other soldiers to the Philippines in WWII. It was a brightly coloured certificate with a dragon on it.
There was a formal ball to meet the Captain and crew. I had brought my Dior tux for the occasion, looking forward to it with Rhonda and Joey. Well Rhonda refused to go. So I, dressed to kill, be-rolexed and slick went and drank with the crowd. I didn’t stay long; just a little wine and time to enjoy the feel of my formalwear.
Our last stop was Lahaina on Maui. The day was spent in port so the tourists could look around and shop. We had already toured the island, so Rhonda and Joey stayed on board. It is truly a beautiful place, but way too touristy and very expensive. I just decided to shuttle ashore and hang around the harbour. I have always enjoyed looking at the boats and talking to any fisherman that may have been out seeking big billfish.
There is a bar right at the dock there. It’s a small place and at least then was unpretentious. I went in for a beer and quickly struck a conversation at the bar. An unshaven skinny guy a little younger than me started talking about Raro Tonga. I guess because I told him I had just come from Tahiti. He said the fishing was great on that south sea island, and the women friendly. He encouraged me to go someday. After a few rounds, he asked me if I had seen any whales, humpbacks. I told him, a few, at a distance. Well he said he had a fast boat and would take me out into the whale pods outside the harbour. I thought close approach was illegal, but I said sure.
He grabbed a couple girls from the bar he knew, almost like props, and we walked over to his boat. It was around 25 feet long and sported a huge engine. We flew out across the crystal water and only in minutes slowed and approached some whales. He cut the engines. We all cracked beers and exchanged small talk and admired the almost plastic swimsuit model girls with us.
I was concerned about getting back to the Princess. And this guy was in no hurry. I started to think if I missed the boat I would have to take a shuttle flight over to Lihue to meet the boat. It was only minutes to spare, and the Princess, way in the distance a distant tiny white dot, sounded its horn. All aboard. My host seem totally unconcerned. I was starting to panic as he snoozed over the beers, whales, and girls. The whales were right there among us, close enough to touch. It was hard to believe something that huge could be that graceful, gentle.
Finally as I heard the final toot from the ship as he cranked up the engine. Pulling slowly away from the whale pod, he gunned it. The boat was blazingly fast. We flew across the water and in only a few minutes we approached the moving now Princess. The crew at the closing door waved us away angrily. I waved my ticket pass madly and finally, after what seemed eternity we were motioned over to the leaving cruise ship. We pulled along side, the walkway was removed, and 2 burly crewmen lifted me aboard. Many passengers watched this happen from above. After going up to the front observation area people said they had cruised for years and had never seen anything like that before. It was quite a short stop on Maui!
The trip ended for us there in Hawaii. It was supposed to end in Honolulu, but we always stayed in a condo at Poipu, on Kauai, when in Hawaii. So it was a big hassle having to get a customs officer to check us in at the port on Kauai. I had a cab take us to the rental car, and we went for the next 2 weeks to stay at our always condo in Poipu.
It wasn’t our condo on Kauai. I had been visiting Hawaii, all the islands, several years at this point. I always flew first class then.Well that often engenders a friendly response from airline staff. Once making a reservation, an American airlines girl suggested I call a pilot friend of hers, Chuck, who had a place at Poipu. He was never there, and might rent it out. So I called this guy and just sent him a check whenever I wanted to go to Hawaii. He would send a key and we went.
This was the last place, just before Alexis was born, that we all went as a family. I mean Shel as nanny, Rhonda, me, and Joey. I had photos of Joey with the black crabs on the beach.
Another photo is of me holding Joey in my arms on a charter fishing boat. My tired son resting in my arms as I troll for whatever, I think I caught a Bonito that day, which I cooked for dinner back at Chuck’s condo. I love that photo. Most of those albums are lost now, so I cherish what little exists outside my mind.
One of our favourite places was a "cook it yourself" restaurant. They had great steak, fish, or burgers you cooked yourself. There was a fancy resort where we took a small boat to get to the restaurant. I think it was the Hilton there. I remember the food being expensive and disappointing. The waitress referred to Shel as our daughter. It was a common mistake for years.
I never went back to Kauai after hurricane Iniki hit. I wonder what has changed. That island was another home to me, just as Anchorage got to be. I would often go directly from Anchorage to Hawaii if I didn’t feel like going back to work. Well, it wasn’t direct. I had to change planes in Frisco or Seattle.
One of my best Hawaiian memories is a trip alone with Rhonda before my son was born; we stayed at a then nouveaux jet-set place called Kona, at the Hyatt. It was really nice, little cabanas on the beach. Really good 5 star restaurants. Kona is on the big island, so I took her to see Volcano Park and Mauna Loa. It was cute- she was scared of the pocked earth and smoke rising from fumaroles. We stayed at a little lodge, called volcano lodge near the mountaintop. Even in summer it was cold enough for a fireplace at that elevation. It was romantic, and one of my favourite memories with my first wife.
We flew over to Lahina on Maui and I took here out to see Hana, at the end of the road there. It’s a nice twisty ride thru the jungle and pristine beaches, some with black sand and the always-bright blue ocean. We climbed the mountain on Maui to the astronomical observatory. It was in the clouds, on top of the world. It was almost too high for easy breathing. On the way up was a small pub where we stopped for lunch. There were flocks of jewel-like hummingbirds feeding there. We could almost have touched them.
Some years later, I would take Shel to Maui and a stay at the Hyatt in Lahina. We never got out of the room. To be young and in love again!
The little town of Hilo on the big island was like a trip back into the 50’s. I could live there, and still might.
At south point on the big island is the southern most point of the United States. It’s a wild place, at least then. A few WWII bunkers remained. There were electrical windmills there, which the whirring of always scared my son when he was little. Later, Shel and I would have wine and cheese picnics in all these places. We both still love south point, and the memory of it being just Shel, my son, and I. I will always think of that as my real family, although an impossible dream, a spectre of the soul.
The Last Bahamian trip
Shel and I took a trip to Abaco Island in the Bahamas. A radio friend of mine had a condo with a ham station on the beach. It was ok, but quite pedestrian compared to Windermere. There was a great little restaurant there and a bakery where a pleasant round smiling very black lady made the best pineapple upside down cake I have even had. Well I wanted to go fishing, and take Shel out beyond the reef to nakedly sunbath. I found a boat for rent from one John Cash. John was a typical stiff white Bahamian, and had a 20 footer to rent. So we cut a deal, packed a lunch and headed out of the bay towards Whale Cay ("key").
It was a beautiful warm day, with a light breeze. I anchored the boat from the rear, cracked a beer, and dropped a line. It was fun to catch such a variety of colourful fish on the reef edge. Sometimes a big (probably a shark) would grab my bait and just break the light line off.
We had a few beers and dozed off naked in the gentle waves.
Hitting my head on the hull awakened me. The mid-day swells had given way to stronger late afternoon on-shore winds, thrashing the little boat, anchored far from shore. I told Shel we had to go, and tried to pull the rear stern-secured anchor line up. Well, being a burly guy then, I just pulled the stern down, as the anchor was coral-stuck just as another wave splashed over the engine cutout in the hull. I tried to start the engine, but it was water logged.
Suddenly, another splash came over the stern and the boat twisted. I told Shel to jump, as I grabbed the cooler in one hand as a float, and the boat rolled, ejecting us both into the choppy Caribbean. I couldn’t see Shel. She later said she was trapped under the hull and felt a divine hand pull her to safety.
Her Blonde head popped up a few yards away, screaming. "I am going to die"..Over and over, hysterical. (I ponder now why she wasn’t concerned enough to scream, "We are going to die"…?) It took what seemed forever to calm her, attach her to the cooler and calm her down. We floated mostly naked with all possessions at the bottom of the sea.
Whale Cay, a little desert island (really!) was about 400 yards distant, swim-able. The problem now was we had company. In the clear water, very large and ominous looking barracuda were eyeing us. Actually, they were far more intrigued with the flotilla of bologna sandwiches discharged from the cooler.
There was a large yacht cruising along about a mile distant with obnoxious music blaring. They had watched in entertained enjoyment as I scuttled my boat, and headed our way just long enough for us our screams were to be ignored. Well, a whole boatload of very pale Bahamian lobster collecting rich boys pulled us out of the waters off whale cay.
They gave Shel a T-shirt (later to ask for it back) and tried to right out stubbornly capsized craft, and dove to get Shel’s bag with our keys, ID, and cash, credit cards, etc. Well, we finally had to call John Cash on the radio. He came out with a famous fat man and local guru, "Samson", to assist and tow the upside down boat back to the harbour.
Well it cost me about 3 grand in damages, and Shel won’t boat with me again. I am almost sure this was the event on my last trip to the Bahamas.
Posts
