July 17 Editorial

This weekend, my husband and I loaded up the boat and headed out to the Blue Angels show on Pensacola Beach. Usually my favorite weekend of the summer, this year just fell flat mostly due, once again, to my husband’s accident proneness.
Friday evening, we made the trek to Wal-Mart to load up on all the essentials….beer, snacks, beer, sunscreen, more beer, etc. We arrived home, and like a good lady of the house, I dove into making sandwiches, packing lunches, wrangling coolers, towels, floats, and all the things that make for an awesome marathon day on the water.
As I finished preparing for what seemed like should have been a month long trip based on the amount of bags I had packed, I dared to ask my husband one pivotal question, “Did you check the battery in the boat?” It wasn’t that I didn’t trust that he knew what he was doing on his end of things, it was just that he’s been on a roll of bad luck lately. I didn’t want to take any chances.
“Don’t worry about that. I got this, woman!” I should’ve known then that these would be his famous last words because sure enough, the next morning as the sun was rising and our friends were arriving for a day of boating fun, the battery was in fact dead.
I knew that I could handle this two ways: I could throw a temper tantrum and scream “I told you so”, making myself feel better while making the situation worse, or I could take a deep breath and have faith in him that he could get this bump in the road under control in a timely manner.
I decided to do a combo of both by saying “I told you so” then unfolding a lawn chair in the front yard while popping a Mango-Rita at 8 am. I have to say, it really did take the edge off.
We were finally on the water at 10:30 am, which might as well have been midnight by Blue Angel show standards. If you aren’t there by 9 am, don’t even think about getting a decent spot to anchor. But I held it together and rolled with the punches.
We arrived to a record breaking crowd and I slumped down in my seat when I realized we were the jerks that were meandering through thousands of boats in an attempt to find our friends, a cause that was lost. We finally decided on a spot that was shallow enough for me to touch while swimming, but wasn’t particularly ideal for witnessing the show. Once again, Mango-Rita to the rescue.
As the day went on, we had more and more fun. That is until my brother ran into his ex-girlfriend with his new girlfriend. The alcohol fueled cat fight went something like this:
New girlfriend: “I hope we can be civil to each other.”
Old girlfriend: “Maybe if you can keep my name out of your mouth.” New girlfriend: “I will scratch your eyes out.”
Old girlfriend: “I wish you would. Bring it.”
Long story short, these two idiots had to be sent to their respective corners and all parties involved were mad. Except me and my husband…..we are more mature than 6
th graders….and we were still laughing too hard.
The ride home was awkward as my brother and his girlfriend argued the entire way, although we did get a break when we slipped away when we stopped to watch a killer sunset at Fort McRae.
We arrived home on the dock, and began unloading. My husband put the keys to the truck and the boat in his pocket and stepped from the boat to the dock when we heard a splash. At some point during the day, he had ripped his pocket, and the keys fell right out of the hole and into the dark water. All I could say was, “Really?” Luckily we were close enough to walk home.
The next day, armed with scuba gear, we arrived back at the dock to search for the missing keys. Within minutes we found the truck keys, but realized that the boat keys didn’t fare the same seeing as how they were equipped with a floating keychain. They were long gone. A whole new ignition switch was in order, and I wasn’t happy.
We made a bee line for the truck, excited that we had found the keys, only to find that the truck battery was now dead because my husband left the interior light on. I’m beginning to think he’s a moron. Good thing he’s lovable.
Four hours, a new battery, and a new ignition switch later, we finally had the boat on the trailer, thus bringing a close to one eventful if not exhausting weekend. I was proud of myself for not screaming or freaking out about things not going as planned this weekend. Not to mention I only said “I told you so” once. That shows major personal growth.
In the end, I’m not sure if I should add the Blue Angels weekend to my Murtaugh List (the “I’m too old for this…list) or if I should just learn to take care of everything important myself. Either way, next year I’m going to need more Mango-Rita’s.