...as the saying goes, are the only two instances where 'almost' counts for something.
Yesterday kicked off amateur hour, the summer boating season. There is nothing quite so ennervating and energizing as the 5 short blasts on the ships' whistle (meaning "Danger Will Robinson!" ) when you're trying to sleep and some assbag in a small boat wanders into your path at close range.
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All the more reason I shall always attempt to keep my eyes open & avoid eliciting such noises when I am gallivanting about in my usual 16'-or-less craft.
Not that fear of a truly unpleasant death didn't do a pretty good job of that anyways!
5 shorts means wave, right?
I was running a 200 ton brig in a shallow river passing under a lift bridge behind a power boat. Everyone was making good speed (~4knots), and then the guy kills nearly all of his way right as I am caught between the towers. I lay on 5 shorts, and start deciding what will do the least damage to everything and everyone involved (I have 45 passengers, and they have 4). One of the women on the back deck of the offending boat waves... fortunately he steps on it before I have to try something.
I hate boating season.
I used to have a recurring dream about getting bowled under the bow of a barge when I was a lobsterman. About 5 years ago I was at the wheel of a loaded tanker leaving Tampa Bay when a drunk drove into us head-on. The pilot blew the whistle, but we were loaded deep with a foot of under-keel clearance in a narrow spot. When it was obvious that we might have a collision, the pilot took the wheel from me, saying that I didn't want a bunch of dead drunks on my conscience. In the end, the boat surfed off our bow wave- flooding the boat, but no injuries.
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