Yes, We Have No Bananas
I alluded last time I wrote about an incident I would tell you about later. That time is here. I present, for your enjoyment, the banana story.
When we took the boat to Bay St. Louis, as I mentioned, our friends Kris and Chuck came along for the journey. When they were boarding, Kris handed me a bag with fruit in it. "Oh, bananas?" I said. "It's bad luck to bring bananas on a boat." I then told her I really am not very superstitious and that I would take my chances.
Well, we got underway and everything was perfect. Boat - perfect. Weather - perfect. Bridge tenders - attentive. Perfect.
Until we curved into the Rigolets. Chuck was down below, but Kris and Rick and I were on the bridge. "What is that blue thing?" I asked. "Police boat," replied Rick. I totally panicked like a pre-teen joyriding in his father's mustang.
"Go get the bill of sale," he said, as my lazy ass hasn't gotten the registration complete on her documentation yet.
Fortunately, I found it easily enough, and brought it up to where the boat police were, asking for proof of life jackets (got 'em) and so on.
As Chuck walked out the hatch onto the deck to see what was going on, he was taking a bite of... a banana.
"You know it's bad luck to have bananas on a boat?" Asked the policeman.
It's true. You get pulled over by the boat cops if you have a banana on board.
New rule:
This story is actually funnier than ours, but still banana-related, so I'll give you this as well.
Since the trip, we have been super busy and haven't spent nearly enough time on board. We did, however, in that time, replace our fresh water hoses, which resulted in this text message:
"Went to Almonaster Rd. to get hoes for the boat."
"Um. What? Hoes? What? Hoes on Almonaster, sounds about right."
(Let it be known that Almonaster is one of the most notoriously rough streets in New Orleans East.)
"Hose. I bought fresh water hose."
"Ohhhhhhhhh. Great, thank you!"
And we also figured out why our poop tank is so fragrant (a vent line was completely detached, so all of the fumes were just venting out into the cabin, instead of out to the great outdoors where they belong).
But mostly, we have just been wistfully thinking about the boat while we do boring land-based-life-things.
I would give just about anything to be a full-on liveaboard with independent wealth. But I still wouldn't allow bananas.
When we took the boat to Bay St. Louis, as I mentioned, our friends Kris and Chuck came along for the journey. When they were boarding, Kris handed me a bag with fruit in it. "Oh, bananas?" I said. "It's bad luck to bring bananas on a boat." I then told her I really am not very superstitious and that I would take my chances.
Well, we got underway and everything was perfect. Boat - perfect. Weather - perfect. Bridge tenders - attentive. Perfect.
Until we curved into the Rigolets. Chuck was down below, but Kris and Rick and I were on the bridge. "What is that blue thing?" I asked. "Police boat," replied Rick. I totally panicked like a pre-teen joyriding in his father's mustang.
"Go get the bill of sale," he said, as my lazy ass hasn't gotten the registration complete on her documentation yet.
Fortunately, I found it easily enough, and brought it up to where the boat police were, asking for proof of life jackets (got 'em) and so on.
As Chuck walked out the hatch onto the deck to see what was going on, he was taking a bite of... a banana.
"You know it's bad luck to have bananas on a boat?" Asked the policeman.
It's true. You get pulled over by the boat cops if you have a banana on board.
New rule:
This story is actually funnier than ours, but still banana-related, so I'll give you this as well.
Since the trip, we have been super busy and haven't spent nearly enough time on board. We did, however, in that time, replace our fresh water hoses, which resulted in this text message:
"Went to Almonaster Rd. to get hoes for the boat."
"Um. What? Hoes? What? Hoes on Almonaster, sounds about right."
(Let it be known that Almonaster is one of the most notoriously rough streets in New Orleans East.)
"Hose. I bought fresh water hose."
"Ohhhhhhhhh. Great, thank you!"
And we also figured out why our poop tank is so fragrant (a vent line was completely detached, so all of the fumes were just venting out into the cabin, instead of out to the great outdoors where they belong).
But mostly, we have just been wistfully thinking about the boat while we do boring land-based-life-things.
I would give just about anything to be a full-on liveaboard with independent wealth. But I still wouldn't allow bananas.
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