We were just about to pick up a mooring ball at Caneel Bay, on St. John when this snazzy little boat came roaring up beside us. Five young, nice looking guys all wearing matching uniforms and packing heat were my first clue that they weren’t surfers. The words U.S. Coast Guard, painted on their boat and imprinted on their uniforms, was my second. Rut-roh!
“We’d like permission to board your boat, Captain,” one of them said. (I was assuming it wasn’t for cocktails, as it was still before noon.) What do think we were going to say? Do we look dumb? Duh—you don’t say “no” to someone with a gun and an assortment of other arsenal hanging from his belt.
I quickly showed off my mooring talent, while The Big Guy steered the boat. Once moored, they came on board and trampled all over our boat with their big, black, dirty boots and did what they called an “inspection”. No biggie, we were missing a couple of placards, (NO DUMPING OIL & NO DUMPING PLASTIC; a real no brainer…I’ll ask again, do we look dumb?), some safety stuff that you really don’t need on a boat anyway, like life jackets, flairs, floaty ring thing—stuff that just takes up a lot of room. I hung out in the cockpit and had a pleasant conversation with one of them, while the other four snooped around.
Getting boarded by the USCG isn’t the point of this story, although everybody we’ve told this to seems to think it’s a big deal. No, the big deal was the fact that I have had this not so teeny-tiny zit on the bridge of my nose for a couple of weeks now. Whenever I wash my face or barely touch it for that matter, the little sucker wants to spew blood. Somewhere over the course of the day I must have rubbed it, so I had this approximate one inch streak of dried blood on my nose. Which of course I didn’t know at the time I was chatting up Cute Coast Guard Guy.
The USCG finished up their inspection and left, so we got ready to head into Cruz Bay. I went into the bathroom to freshen up and that’s when I saw the bloody trail running the length of my nose. The ensuing conversation went like this.
Why the hell didn’t you tell me I had this streak of blood on my nose?
I thought you knew.
Well if I had known don’t you think I would have washed it off?
I don’t know.
Was it on my nose when I went in the Marina office this morning to pay for water?
I don’t know.
You don’t know? You can’t miss it! You mean you let me just sit there and talk to those guys with dried blood running down my nose?
I thought you knew.
Well Captain Obvious, if I knew, I would have washed it off. The only way I could have looked any more dumb was if I would have been standing there with my fly open! Jeez thanks a lot! You know I’d tell you if you looked dumb!
So we took the dinghy to Cruz Bay to clear customs and because we were going fast and because the wind was blowing hard, Big turned his cap around backwards. As we were walking into the US Customs office, I said, honey, turn your hat around, you look dumb. I immediately regretted giving him a heads up, but I had forgotten that I owed him one in the looking dumb department. I made a mental note to get even later.
Getting boarded by the USCG isn’t the point of this story, although everybody we’ve told this to seems to think it’s a big deal. No, the big deal was the fact that I have had this not so teeny-tiny zit on the bridge of my nose for a couple of weeks now. Whenever I wash my face or barely touch it for that matter, the little sucker wants to spew blood. Somewhere over the course of the day I must have rubbed it, so I had this approximate one inch streak of dried blood on my nose. Which of course I didn’t know at the time I was chatting up Cute Coast Guard Guy.
The USCG finished up their inspection and left, so we got ready to head into Cruz Bay. I went into the bathroom to freshen up and that’s when I saw the bloody trail running the length of my nose. The ensuing conversation went like this.
Why the hell didn’t you tell me I had this streak of blood on my nose?
I thought you knew.
Well if I had known don’t you think I would have washed it off?
I don’t know.
Was it on my nose when I went in the Marina office this morning to pay for water?
I don’t know.
You don’t know? You can’t miss it! You mean you let me just sit there and talk to those guys with dried blood running down my nose?
I thought you knew.
Well Captain Obvious, if I knew, I would have washed it off. The only way I could have looked any more dumb was if I would have been standing there with my fly open! Jeez thanks a lot! You know I’d tell you if you looked dumb!
So we took the dinghy to Cruz Bay to clear customs and because we were going fast and because the wind was blowing hard, Big turned his cap around backwards. As we were walking into the US Customs office, I said, honey, turn your hat around, you look dumb. I immediately regretted giving him a heads up, but I had forgotten that I owed him one in the looking dumb department. I made a mental note to get even later.
We then went to this little beach bar and restaurant where we shared some nachos and fish tacos and then walked around and browsed through the little shops. I spent some time talking with a guy who works in this hoity-toity pet store (there was a $500 doggie jacket!), then finally we went back to the boat. As we were getting ready to call it a night, I went to brush my teeth, and guess what? Yep, there was a big chunk of cilantro in my teeth! The ensuing conversation went like this:
Why didn’t you tell me I had a piece of cilantro in my teeth?
I thought you knew.
Well, if I had known don’t you think I would have picked it out?
I don’t know.
Am I correct to assume it's been there since lunch?
Your fly is open.
I am so going to get him! If you see The Big Guy walking around with some toilet paper stuck to his shoe or in the crack of his shorts, you’ll know what I've been up to!
I'm posting a recipe for an hors d' oeuvre that I whipped up last night. Chilled Shrimp with a Mango-Curry Dip. I forgot to take a picture, I was busy stalking The Big Guy with a roll of TP. Go to the "Appetizers" tab at the top of this page to view it.
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