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Apr. 19, 2018
9:02 pm


Vinnie Mendes On the Water

You never know who you'll meet 

In 1996 my wife and I were Olympic volunteers working the Mistral (Windsurfer) sailing course in Savannah. Our task was to run the gear boat, where we enjoyed advantages that just about outweighed the disadvantages. 
For instance, a disadvantage was that we were the last to leave the venue each day after compiling a list of the equipment we would need to replace (lost anchors, turning marks, binoculars, batteries for the GPSs etc.) as well as lunch and drinks for the 80 or so other volunteers on our course. Then we were at the warehouse first thing in the morning to pick it all up and transport it to the venue.
However, an advantage was that we were among the few who had a pass to bring our car onto the venue, while everyone else had to park at a remote location, go through security, and then take a school bus over. We also had the IYRU (International Yacht Racing Union) rep and the Mistral rep on our boat and had the freedom to go wherever we wanted on the course, as opposed to monitoring one spot such as a turning mark or start line. In addition, all the athletes dropped their knap sacks off on our boat before each race and picked them up afterward, so we were up close and personal with all of them. 
Now Olympic volunteers were allowed absolutely NO alcohol on the venue, which was annoying, especially since both reps on our boat brought coolers on board each day and offered us beers. (You have no idea how much it hurt to decline).
On the last day of the event, the IYRU rep said, “Hey, the Lithuanian rep brought over half a container of beer and we have to help him drink it.” Now the Olympics were over, the medals had been awarded, and we were just checking in equipment. I figured, “What can they do, fire us” so I put my henchman in charge of checking stuff in and we went over to the IYRU office.
Now imagine a room with about a dozen desks and a gigantic Igloo cooler filled with ice and beer, and the whole far wall lined with cases of Lithuanian beer. The fellow had brought in HALF of a 40 FOOT SHIPPING container of beer!
While doing our best to help out, we noticed a group of volunteers talking with the officials on the other side of the room. They were two distinguished older gentlemen and two much younger women. The women seemed very fit and carried large purses. I could tell from the jewelry and the accents that they were European. They were dressed exactly like us in shorts and volunteer shirts.
After they had left, our host asked if we know who they were, and we said no. They were the King of Spain and the former King of Greece, who both had competed in previous Olympics and had come to award medals to their athletes! (They were traveling around the venue incognito, and the women were their security detail … . You can imagine what they carried in those big purses.)
It’s not every day you get to have a beer with a pair of Kings !
Mendes has been sailing all his life and on Lake Lanier for the past 25 years. His family owns a marina/bar/restaurant so he has plenty of real life experiences to draw from. His favorite line: “You can’t make this stuff up.”

March 2018 column

The 'Bird's' last voyage 

Several years ago my younger brother, Hank, who owned a marina with a bar and restaurant attached was making more money than he knew what to do with. As a lark he purchased a 21-foot racing skiff with a 500 plus HP engine. The boat was named “How’s Ya’ Bird?” It was canary yellow with the name and a six foot picture of Big Bird painted on the foredeck. The thing was purported to do 100 MPH and all I could think of was there was no way I was going to go that fast on the water no matter how much of a lark it was. 
The first day it showed up at the marina, my other brother, Tim, was backing it under the crane to launch it and had neglected to secure the trailer hitch properly. Since he was only taking it across the boat yard, he didn’t need the safety chains, right?
With everyone standing around watching, he did a fine job of positioning the trailer precisely in the correct place under the crane to be lifted into the water. He stopped the truck, set the brake and jumped out. He didn’t notice that when the truck stopped, the trailer bounced up and the hitch popped off the ball so that the trailer continued moving slowly toward the water. It stopped when it hit the bulkhead, but the boat kept moving and launched herself, stern first into the river. The large open cockpit immediately filled with water and the boat sank within seconds. Then it started to float away with the tide, with just the bow showing above the water and Big Bird’s feet gently bobbing up and down beneath the words “Ya’ Bird.”
We hopped in the workboat, chased her down the river, towed her back, hauled her out, removed the starter, alternator, etc. and pickled them in fresh water before drying them out in a 200 degree oven, changed the oil and did the regular routine for engines that had been submerged in salt water. Fast forward several weeks to the second attempt. We got her successfully into the water, engine started and my father (the Ole Man) and Hank took her for the maiden voyage up the river and back.

Sure enough the thing was incredibly fast and was out of sight within seconds. They turned around and came back, streaking past us and on down the river to make a long sweeping turn and come back in triumph and shutting her down right in front of the marina. However, they had not figured on the stern wave, which quickly overtook them swamping the boat. (It’s amazing how fast that thing fills with water).
Now this was in the middle of November, and the water was pretty cold. All the life preservers were up under the bow where they couldn’t get to them. The final irony was that the Ole Man had been collecting the cover charge at the door to the bar the night before, and had all the dollar bills in the pocket of his baggy wool pants. The money promptly floated up the surface, and they all drifted down the river, both them, the money and the bow of the boat featuring Big Bird’s feet and the words “Ya’ Bird” gently bobbing up and down.  At this point the Ole Man said, “You know, this is poetic justice. We go out for a nice cruise on the river in a $60,000 boat and finish up to our ass in ice water surrounded by dollar bills.”
One of our neighbors who had been out in his boat quickly plucked them out of the water, leaving us to tow the boat in and go thru the litany of pickling the engine etc. 
Next week the boat was out on the front lawn of the marina with a big “For Sale” sign. Thus ends the saga of “How’s Ya’ Bird.” 

Run once, sunk twice!

February 2018 column

The replacement parrot 

A new columnist has joined Lakeside. Vinnie Mendes has spent his life on the water with the last 25 years on Lake Lanier. Here is his first submission:
Years ago, I used to keep my Tartan 36 One Ton Racer in a marina up north where they had a really neat bar, similar to the old “Cheers” where “Everybody knew your name.” It had a deck going out over the river where on Sunday afternoons they would have a steel band, and it was the place to be in the summer. After 2 a.m. when the doors were locked and the cash register closed, a select group of regulars would continue to party inside until the wee hours, and either take a sunrise cruise on the river, or simply sit out on the deck and watch the sun come up. 
Although this marina catered mostly to sailors, they had a few power boats and one old 50 foot aluminum houseboat which was owned by two architects named  Harry and Jake who had lived aboard it for years and were a little weird … actually, they were a lot weird! We just liked to keep them around as “mascots” because they were so screwed up they made us look good!
Harry always looked as if he had just stepped out of a Brook’s Brothers ad, with trousers perfectly creased and power tie on straight. He even polished his Topsiders! Jake was what we called a “Guido,” i.e. if one gold chain is good, 10 of them are 10 times as good! He always left his shirt half unbuttoned so everyone could count his chains!
The houseboat had a narrow gangway running fore and aft on both sides with a rail about waist high. It was so narrow that most people had to suck in their guts and sidle crabwise when traversing the length of the boat, or alternatively go inside through the living room, kitchen, both bed rooms and the bathroom to get to the other end.
Therefore, Harry and Jake decided to build a proper gangway that you could comfortably walk on. Both being architects, they designed something that would have passed the building code in any major city. They hauled the boat out of the water and did a beautiful job on the starboard side and were just starting on the port when someone pointed out that if they completed the project, they wouldn’t be able to fit the boat into the slip. They quickly confirmed that not only wouldn’t they fit into their slip, there was no slip in the marina that could handle it. 
So on to “Plan B.” They just left the gangway as it was and ignored the other side. When the boat was launched she had a list of about 20 degrees to starboard due to the extra weight. This was solved by simply piling cinder blocks on the port side gangway, which wouldn’t be used anyway. The outcome was a rather ungainly, asymmetrical vessel, somewhat resembling one of the old Jeep Carriers of World War II.

About this time their parrot, Sidney (after Sidney Greenstreet in Casablanca) passed away. We gave him a Viking’s funeral and buried him at sea.
Enter Paula, another of the characters who hung around with us. She was the last of the “Flower Children,” a dear sweet soul and we all loved her, but she had taken too many drugs back in the 1960s. She happened to be going to a gigantic auction/flea market the next day where you could buy anything from harpoons to balloons. Harry gave her $300 and told her to get him a parrot.
Next day, Paula takes off for the flea market and Harry and Jake take off for Atlantic City to make their monthly contribution to the casinos. There were no parrots at the flea market but Paula managed to find a beautiful green and red rooster! (He looked sort of like a parrot.) So she puts the rooster into the parrot cage on the house boat and goes home, mission accomplished.
All was quiet at 3 a.m. when Harry and Jake rolled in and went out to the boat. A little before 5 a.m., we’re all sitting out on the deck as the first glow of the false dawn starts to brighten the eastern horizon. Suddenly the silence is shattered by “COCK A DOODLE DOO!” You can imagine the volume that reverberated out of the houseboat when you consider the acoustics of being surrounded by all that aluminum. Both guys come running out of opposite ends of the boat in their skivvies, looking frantically around. Then there’s another “COCK A DOODLE DOO” just as loud as the first! They both headed for the opposite end of the boat on the outside gangway and collided amidships. Once they untangled themselves, each ran to the other end of the boat still trying to figure where the sound was coming from. Upon the third “COCK A DOODLE DOO,” one of them produced a revolver and fired off six rounds into the air! Then all was silent except for the peals of uncontrollable laughter that were coming from the deck.
That afternoon, Paula got to drive out to the flea market and return the rooster.

Author’s Note: All the occurrences and characters in this story are true. Only the names have been changed to protect the guilty. Any similarity between these characters and any persons living or dead is a dirty shame!
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