Chris’ boat

Before I left the gloriousness of Florida, we finally made the previously ill-fated trip on Carol’s son, Chris’ boat. We’d been scheduled several times but never seemed to make it for one reason or another. The traffic in Ft Meyers Beach not withstanding, we went to Chris’ (awesome, I want to live there) house on the water where we promptly plopped into his boat for what I was vaguely afraid was going to be a three-hour tour with Gilligan’s Island consequences (I call the Professor). 

Out on the water, we pulled in to this outrageous seafood market somewhere in the midst of an enormous shrimp fleet and bought stone crabs and shrimp (pre-cooked) from some very surly ladies and brought them onto the boat. Eventually we tied up to a mangrove out of the wind and ate our seafood with cocktail and mustard sauce. Chris cracked the stone crabs with a hammer apparently brought onto the boat for this activity and we tossed the shells into the water as we polished it all off. This somehow seemed like littering to me but I imagine the fish appreciated the bits of shrimp and crab still stuck to the detritus. 

As it turned out there was no storm forcing us onto an uncharted desert isle. In fact, I made it to the airport in time to discover a two-hour delay instead of the three-hour tour. And the bar was too full to find a place to sit.

Pertinent lyrics follow.

Just sit right back and you’ll hear a tale,
A tale of a fateful trip
That started from this tropic port
Aboard this tiny ship.

The mate was a mighty sailing man,
The skipper brave and sure.
Five passengers set sail that day
For a three hour tour, a three hour tour.

The weather started getting rough,
The tiny ship was tossed,
If not for the courage of the fearless crew
The minnow would be lost, the minnow would be lost.

The ship set ground on the shore of this uncharted desert isle
With Gilligan
The Skipper too,
The millionaire and his wife,
The movie star
The professor and Mary Ann,
Here on Gilligans Isle.

So this is the talel of the castways,
They’re here for a long, long time,
They’ll have to make the best of things,
It’s an uphill climb.

The first mate and the Skipper too,
Will do their very best,
To make the others comfortable,
In the tropic island nest.

No phone, no lights no motor cars,
Not a single luxury,
Like Robinson Crusoe,
As primative as can be.

So join us here each week my freinds,
You’re sure to get a smile,
From seven stranded castways,
Here on “Gilligan’s Isle.”