Starting Is Not For Sissies

A couple of decades ago when I wrote a boaty column for the Palm Beach Post, as light relief from chasing cops and criminals on the south Florida police beat, I was given the "honor" of starting the International Off-Shore Power Boat Races from Miami to Palm Beach and back.

Millions of dollars worth of boats with a crew of three were churning up the sea maneuvering for position, waiting for the pace-boat I was aboard to lead the pack and for the checkered flag to be lowered for the START signal...by me!

Earlier, writing an advance piece, I'd spoken with an off-shore driver who told me harrowing stories of crews breaking limbs as the hulls became airborne and smacked into waves – solid as concrete. He airily told me they sometimes dumped the guy overboard, in a life jacket, for the chase-boat to pick up.
“Saves time and gas.”he shrugged.

As our pace-boat picked up speed and I firmly grasped the pole sporting the flag, it flapped noisily and tugged for freedom. What started as a -- “ Don't go over the side” joke -- shouted by fellow news-jockeys bouncing on the slick vinyl stern seats, soon took on elements of scary reality.

The hull lifted and smacked with increasing speed as bow-waves of pursuing boats poured on the gas, inching throttles of mega-horse-power engines, forward. Noisy cracking flaps from the black-and-white flag overhead, mixing with shrieked conversations between committee members arguing about knots, distances, wind and time, whipped back along with stinging spray from our bow waves.

The flag and pole, once bravely held aloft and anchored by my 150-pound frame, wobbled and staggered as the pace-boat bounced from wave to wave.

White, and some pale-green faces, stared up at me as journalists and PR hacks jounced around. I mouthed the word HELP several times before fingers grasped my shirt, shorts, whatever, to keep me anchored aboard. Other hands grabbed the wavering flagpole dangerously close to the area where I tried to clamp it in what I call my “fireman-sliding-down-a-pole” grip.

Suddenly, as the white bones-in-the-teeth of a thundering fleet of throttle-gunning powerboats threatened to over-run our churning wake, the inaudible shrieks from forward were reinforced by a power-horn blast signaling -- START!

We'all collapsed in a heap, the checked flag was lowered, the fleet pounced forward and we were drenched in a deluge of crisscrossing waves which tossed our slower pace boat about like a ping-pong ball in a washing machine.

I politely declined the honor next year, to repeat my role!

This link MAY take you to a few hairy moments recorded in recent races http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2oBr8bHuZ1k&feature=player_embedded

Ends...

Notes from America - A Pebble in the Pool

I don't know if it was the result of a prank, or payback, but the suicide death leap from New Jersey's George Washington Bridge by a gay Rutgers student has shaken residents of shock-proof New Brunswick and sent reactionary ripples around the world.

The campus is one of the state's notable colleges. Its student body is a mosaic of the hustling polyglot population, reflected in the background of its prime participants.

The dead victim, an 18-year-old White boy, an Asian roommate and his Oriental girlfriend.

According to national and local news reports and online buzz, the fiddle-playing youth had sexual liaisons with another male friend. Unknown to him, his roommate, using a hidden webcam hooked-up with his girlfriend's computer, recorded and streamed the resulting action online.

A few days after revealing their actions, the fiddle-player left a cryptic note on his Facebook page: “Going to jump of Washington Bridge – sorry”.

Police found his body several days later. The roomie and girlfriend faced privacy invasion and broadcast of lewd acts, then were released on bond.

However, the campus is a seething mass of protests by both gay and straight students. The governor of the state (a replacement for a married predecessor who publicly confessed to his homosexual affair)is “shocked, saddened and dismayed”. The victim's parents are devastated, and his accusers parents lives will never be the same.

This is Week One of a saga which, based on previous media performances, promises to become a three-ring circus. The ripples will keep expanding – until the next pebble is thrown into the pool.

One final footnote in a bizarre succession of events. The oldest building on the historic campus, dating back to the 1776 beginnings of the American Revolution, is nicknamed after the original seat of learning – Queen's College.

Ends...