Flashback: August 1998

August 1998 was the last time WH and I went to Florida. Why was it almost ten years ago? Well, after being rescued by the Coast Guard, we figured what more was there to do in Florida?!

We were not married yet at this point- we had been dating almost two years. About a week after the trip we broke up for about a month. It was that bad.

For starters, we went with another couple. This other couple, though they were much older than we were (about ten years, and when you’re 18 or 19, 28 might as well be 90), did not have their own credit cards and had very little cash or common sense. But I digress…………

WH rode down to Key Largo with the other couple. I had just started a new job and had to fly down after my shift ended. My flight landed in Miami, around noon. Jason, the male member of The Other Couple, oh so thoughtfully booked a lobster dive for himself and WH to start at 1030am. They sent Stacey, the female member of The Other Couple, to make the drive from Largo to Miami alone, and didn’t give her any directions or flight info.

When my flight landed, I claimed my baggage and headed for the nearest exit to go smoke. At two different points during my walk, two different times someone grabbed my purse strap. Each time, when I turned around to see who was trying to mug me, there was no one there. So, I was a little jumpy. I went outside and smoked, expecting WH to pull up or walk up any minute. This was at 12pm.

At 3pm, I called my Mom in hysterics. I was not only convinced that I would be robbed and raped at any moment, but I was at this point also convinced that WH had picked the rudest way ever to break up with someone. We discussed my flying right back home- except the flights were all full. I was getting ready to hail a cab, get a hotel room, and book a morning flight back home. My plan was to set fire to WH’s car when I got settled. Suddenly, a short blond woman came running towards me, crying- bawling- and yelling my name. It was Stacey, who had spend an hour and a half circling the airport, trying to figure out how to get in. We collapsed in each other’s arms and sobbed, then found our way to the car.

The next day, we went down to Key West for the day. WH and I were already arguing- see above- but when we rented bikes, it only got worse. I am the biggest klutz that ever walked the earth, and hadn’t ridden a bike in a long time. I almost got creamed by a couple of shitty cabbies and WH was screaming at me like I was just being silly instead of actually being retarded. I responded in my usual charming way, crying and telling him he was just a big fat asshole that never loved me.

Later that week, we rented a boat. Folks, renting a boat may sound like a really fun way to spend a day on the coast. Unless the rental company is very, very good, it’s just an expensive way to die.

Everything started out fine. We took the boat out into the Atlantic, so the guys could do some lobster diving. They were able to get enough lobster for all four of us for dinner before we all got a little green around the gills and decided to head back to the Gulf side.

As we were moving through the water, the engine would hesitate and even stall. The only way to keep it moving was to choke the hell out of it. WH managed to get us to a marina, where we called our rental company to let them know about our engine trouble. They refused to help us because we were out of bounds, except they never gave us any boundaries. So, we left the marina, stalling and choking, stalling and choking- working our way back to the rental place. At one point, WH hit the choke and the boat went flying- right onto a sandbar. At low tide.

I called the rental company, who again, insisted we were outside of their imaginary boundaries and refused to help us. I called the Coast Guard, who said that they could not interfere with commerce unless we were in imminent danger, and gave me the phone number for Sea Tow. These folks wanted $200 for the first foot and $100 a foot after that, and that would have cost a bazillion dollars. I called my Mom, who at the time could not understand the concept of a cell phone, and thought I was telling her the story after the fact. I called Visa, and they said that the marina had only run an authorization, not an actual charge, so they couldn’t even put the charge in dispute- it hadn’t been run yet.

We were stuck. We had tried pushing, of course, but because it was low tide, the boat was only in maybe a half inch of water. WH had the great idea of using the prop (which was stuck in the sand because the trim didn’t work) to dig a trench in the sandbar so we could get into open water again. Problem is, if you are familiar with boats and boat engines- they are water cooled. So WH would run the engine till it cut off from overheating, then let it cool, then start it back up again.

I was busy freaking out, since it was my credit card that was guaranteeing that engine. My vote was to wait for the tide to come in and try to push again, after digging the prop out with our hands.

Stacey made good use of her time by sunbathing and drinking beer. Not water. Beer. This is an important part of the story later on.

We ran aground at 12pm. At 8pm- a mind-numbing eight hours later, a thunderstorm blew our way. This put us in imminent danger, so they came to our rescue. Except they ran aground trying to tow us out. Made WH feel better. It took a long time, but they got free and they towed us back to the Coast Guard Station at Islamoranda. The creepy Sea Tow guy was waiting for us (to this day I have not figured out how he knew where we were, seven hours after I called), and he offered to drive us to the rental place to get our car. We took him up on his offer, and we made it back to camp about 1030pm.

I went to take a shower in the common bath house. Not only was it disgusting, but the curtains were at least a foot too narrow, leaving a six inch gap on either side for your viewing pleasure. A small boy sat on a bench and hungrily watched me shower while his sister was in the stall next door.

We ate our lobster, cooked over the fire, and went to bed. Even though we had box fans set up to blow into the tents, we all had severe sunburns, and it was just a shade hotter than hell, even at night, with no breeze and 100% humidity. I lay there, next to WH, in a tent barely big enough for one person and dared his ass to touch any part of my body with any part of his. It was just that hot, and we were just that pissy.

Imagine my surprise, at 700am the next morning, when the Sea Tow guy showed up at our campsite and woke me up! I was supposed to fly home that day, to get back to my new job on time. Well, the Sea Tow guy had stopped by to let me know that the rental owner was filing a theft of services warrant against me.

This idiot gave us a broken boat. He ran an APPROVAL on my card for the engine deposit – $600+ when we left with the boat. When we hadn’t returned his broken piece of shit by the time he came back in, he tried to run another charge through on my card for $600. Since I was just a wee thing, with a wee credit limit, the card declined. He could have used his approval number to put a charge through, but I guess he was too stupid to know it.

I called work and kindly explained that I needed to resolve a situation before I could come home and couldn’t make it to my 11pm shift. They got a little pissy with me, but I told them I had a signed note from my Coast Guard rescue, and they chilled right the fuck out. Then I called my Mom, and explained to her how cell phones work, and yes, I called you from the Gulf of Mexico yesterday. When she finally figured out what was going on, she hit the roof. She offered to call the rental company owner while we headed up there.

We were all tired, sore, burnt and pissed. We got in the car and headed up there, ready for fight. My Mom had given this guy the what-for, though, and when we got there, he had another boat ready for us to use to go get the broken boat and tow it
back to his shop. He also had an apology and a credit slip for me. Cause that’s how my Mom rolls when you piss her off and she actually understands what the hell is going on.

WH and Jason went to go get the boat, Stacy and I broke down camp and packed up the car. When we showed up at the rental place to pick up the guys, the Coast Guard was there too. They fined the rental owner for the trim, the engine problem, no night lights and not enough flotation devices. While he was signing all of his tickets, the four of us hid our bait- whole squid- in every nook and cranny of that damn boat. I bet the stink never came out of it.

The ride home was worse than the damn vacation. We were all mad at each other- WH and I were mad at each other, Jason and Stacey were mad at each other, and we were mad at Jason and Stacey, because they ran out of money half way through the trip and they couldn’t convince Stacey’s Mom to wire them any cash or get their credit limit hiked on the joint credit card account, so we loaned them money for EVERYTHING for the last half of the trip. On top of tension so thick you could cut it with a knife, we were floating. Yep, there was a leak in the firewall of the car, so all of the condensation from the A/C was pooling up in the car. Eight hours of wet feet and pissed offedness. Except it was more like ten, because we had to stop every twenty minutes so that Stacey could throw up. Because apparently too much beer and sun and not enough water is not good for you.

The only saving grace was getting my credit card statement. Jason and Stacey paid us everything we lent them. The rental owner had run a $600 approval, not a charge, so when he ran the $600 credit because my Mom scared the bejesus out of him, he ended up paying for our whole damn trip.

I should have given Jason and Stacey their money back, since they paid me for stuff that the rental credit paid off. I didn’t, though, because I am a bitch and Stacey was a royal pain in the ass (she brought an iron? camping? at the beach? In August?) and Jason didn’t stop at one of my favorite stores (The Blue Moon Trader) when we were on our way to Key West.

Wish me luck, people. WH and I have already discussed the dangers involved with going back to Florida. We will not rent a boat this time, and we aren’t going to Key West. I still think that I should up our life insurance coverage.

Powered by ScribeFire.