Sandy Cay, Long Bay and Attempted Murder... more day 1 of 10)

After leaving Soper's Hole we motored over to Sandy Cay (the all-beach island) and dropped anchor.

Almost before the engines stopped we were in the water. After floundering around for a while most of the gang decided to go snorkeling to shore. Kelly (who doesn't snorkel after marriage) C and I decided to stay behind. I think Gin and Tonic was the order of the day.

Thar she blows!

Sandy Cay

After the crew got finished with Sandy Cay, the plan was to go anchor up in Long Bay. It just so happened that it was Norma's 21st birthday and the plan was to go have a big do at Foxy's Taboo, after the prerequisite pitcher of Painkillers. Can you tell who had the most? (Hint: initials CL)

After lubrication and changin' into our Sunday go-to-meetin' duds we decided it was time to head out. So the seven of us jumped in the dinghy with the Todd at the helm. Since it was well after dark we decided not to bring any life jackets or suitable lighting devices. Just a small flash light about the size of Steve's...finger and one of those strap-on-your-head things.

As we left, Steve commented on what a beautiful evening it was. There wasn't a cloud in the sky. Since the bar was lit up like a Christmas tree we could easily roar right over. I forgot to mention that I was riding point in the bow. Well, we're motoring right along when several things happened sort of simultaneously. First, I saw something out of the corner of my eye which I took to be a boat, then by sheer coincidence both Steve and Ron flip on their lights a split second before we hit a concrete dock that stuck out from shore about a hundred feet. Fearing for my pretty little face, I ducked faster that a Jew picking up a penny, just in time to go shooting under the dock with only my back scraping along. Cynthia was sitting next to me and it knocked her off trying to stop the boat. Everyone asked me over and over if I was sure I was OK, because no one had ever seen a fat guy move that fast.

It was a Saturday night so the place was really hoppin'. I think there was one other table who left part way through our meal. Our waiter came by and flipped us a bunch of passive-aggressive remarks with a smile on his face. Actually, it seemed that the native folk were doing all that they could to keep their utter contempt for the tourists (read "whitey") from showing all over their faces. After a few rounds of painkillers and rum punches we ordered our dinner. I don't recommend the ribs. After a dessert of painkillers, and scathing eyes from the help that wanted to go home, we figured it was time to head out.

While we were up paying our bill it started to rain. And by rain I mean deluge. And by deluge I mean like a cow pissin' on a flat rock. It happened almost instantaneously. We stood around under cover waiting for it to quit as quickly as it started. Unfortunately, it just got worse the longer we waited. I was really concerned about my lick-and-stick tattoos but we decided to cowboy up and make a run for it. By the time we made it back to the boat we had about 10 gallons of water in it. And of course the rain stopped. Everyone bailed in to remove the evil wet clothes but Todd and Cynthia. Todd figures "What the hell, I'm already soaked" and dove in fully clothed. Cynthia had a different take on the situation. She figured that since she was already wet, she might as well go skinny-dipping. Thus endeth another day in paradise.



The next morning we fed the fish (Remora) bread while the chain of command tried to decide where to go next.