Story Telling Time
 

:popcorn: Tell us a story. I love stories. It can be about anything, but not politics. :welcome:

This particular story is about boats and dinner. My wife and I started with a stink pot (name given to gasoline powered boats), and then we went to a Rag (name given to sail boaters). This story is about an adventure on our Rag. But first a little side story. Before we owned a boat, we rented one. When the dockmaster asked if I had experience boating, I said, "Oh yea, I've been boating for a while now. (OK, so I lied). My wife just shook her head. When we got to the destination the dockmaster there tried to direct me, and I kept hitting the piling. The dockmaster kept saying, "That's OK Captain, straight in now." After 4 tries, my wife shouted out, "Please stop calling him Captain!" Now to the matinee story. :popcorn:

We docked our Rag on the Sassafras River, which emptied into the Chesapeake Bay. It was only a 27 footer, but it was all we needed. One weekend, we took my sister and bro-in-law with us, to sail down to St. Michael's for dinner and stay overnight. During our sail, I let my bro-in-law take the wheel, while I enjoyed a cold one.

Everything was going fine, until our Rag started to slow down, even though the wind did not. I asked my bro-in-law if he noticed anything, while he was at the wheel. He said he did not.

Our trip took much longer than expected, due to the sluggishness of our boat. As he docked, a couple, unknown to us, and who had already been docked, helped us tie up. As the husband tied our stern line, he said, "did you know you're dragging a crab trap?" I did not, but now I knew what made us sluggish.

We pulled up the trap and there were at least two dozen crabs in the trap (according to my memory). Needless to say, we had dinner aboard the Rag that night. I left the crab trap with the dockmaster.

But the story doesn't end there. The next morning I woke up at the crack of dawn, thanks to some ducks tapping against the boat, looking for food. Our new dock friends, who helped us tie up, were dressed, and about to head out, when I asked them where they were headed so early. The husband replied, that they were headed to Boston to watch the Red Sox play. Every Saturday, they would fly to a different city to watch different teams play. He told me he worked for the airlines and only had to pay a minimal amount to fly. Now, I thought that was great!

Share your story :popcorn:

I love "it's-a-small-world" stories and I have more than one, but I'll only saddle you with my best.

Many years ago, I was staying at the Hilton Hawaiian Village in Waikiki. I was having a drink by the pool when two young ladies approached the bar. I got up and offered my seat. We talked and discovered that we all came from New York. We were familiar with the same establishments on Long Island and so on. At one point, I mentioned that I rent the upstairs of my two-family house to a buddy who is going through a divorce. The one girl asks what his name is and I tell her. She says, "I've been in your house."

I was on a old steam train back in the 50's, and coming home on leave.
I decided to go for a cup of tea and a smoke in the restaurant car.
Corridor ights were poor and when I got to the internal carriage door to pass through into the next carriage, someone else was coming the other way.
I stepped aside as a gentleman should, and so did the other person, we did this about three times, before I said "For ****'s sake, I'll go first then!" and walked smack into the shiny wooden door.
I was losing my rag at my own reflection!:ohdear:

I like those "It's a small world" stories too. I met my neighbors here in Florida, when I was in Sedona, but never knew them here, until that day.

Haha, good one. Thanks for sharing.

You really don't want to get me started, but since you asked, I'll tell you my most hair-raising flying story.

I was flying along in my 1973 Piper Cherokee to the Sun-N-Fun fly-in in Lakeland, from my home field in Tulsa. I had about 100 hours flying time in my logbook. For some strange reason, none of my buddies wanted to ride along on a 900 mile flight with a low-time pilot, just to sleep under a wing for three nights and ogle airplanes. I was flying alone.

So there I was, cruising along at 6,500 feet, on top of a broken layer of clouds, somewhere over south Arkansas. The holes were becoming fewer and fewer, so I picked a great big hole, bigger than a football field, and banked hard to the left to start a spiral down underneath the cloud layer. On the third rotation, it dawned on me that it might have been a good idea to drop the flaps, now that my airspeed was 10 miles over the speed at which the flaps would depart the plane if I tried to deploy them to slow down. And since I couldn't slow down, there was no way to avoid entering that cloud in a 45 degree bank at 120 mph.

As I entered the cloud, my flight instructor's words popped into my head: "The average lifespan of a VFR (amateur) pilot in IFR conditions (inside a cloud) is 2 minutes". This was exactly the way JFK Junior had managed to kill himself the previous year.

Well, somehow, I overcame my blind panic, and my 2 hours of FAA-required instrument training kicked in. I used the artifical horizon to right the plane, pulled up to level flight, slowed to about 80 -- and considered my situation. According to the altimeter and the map in my lap, my situation was: I was cruising along blind, at 2500 ft, on my way to a rendevous with a 3500 ft mountain at some point, and if I didn't find a way out of this mess in a couple of minutes, they would be sponging my remains from the side of some big hill in Arkansas.

Everything outside the plane was just a featureless grey -- exactly the same in every direction. And, once again, my instructor's words popped into my brain: "With nothing to focus on, the eye focuses on infinity". So I tried focusing on the compass, and then quickly looked outside. Amazing! For just a second, I could see faint differences in the grey. I kept doing this, and discovered that the grey was much lighter behind me, over my left shoulder. Maybe that was the hole! I carefully turned in that direction, using just the tips of the yoke (steering wheel) to nudge the plane slowly around (as I'd been taught), without risking an out-of-control spiral, like the one that killed Kennedy. And then I waited and prayed.

When I broke out of the side of that cloud, I swear I heard angels singing the Hallelujah Chorus!

It was like magic. I remember the sunlight and whisps of cloud suddenly appearing from the gloom, and I turned my head to see the vapor swirls in the cloud wall as I emerged. Beautiful! And straight ahead was the other side of the hole. I quickly DROPPED THE FLAPS and continued a CONTROLLED spiral to the bottom of the cloud. A couple of turns later, I was out, in barely VFR (Visual Flight Rules) conditions, at 1500 ft. Half hour later, the ceiling lifted, and the rest of the flight was uneventful (except for the crazy traffic at Lakeland).

And I learned my lesson about VFR-on-top so well that I managed to pull the same stupid stunt coming back from the Oshkosh fly-in five years later, with my best flying buddy, in a much faster plane. At least that time, I remembered the flaps, so no cloud time. But the haze was so bad below that I got some IFR time ("I Fly Roads"), creeping to the nearest airport at 500 ft over the middle of some backwoods state highway, to avoid the hitting a cellphone tower.

I guess some people are so dumb it takes two miracle escapes to learn the same lesson.

Serpent On A Roll
 

The new pastor of our Western New York country church elected to reside in the old parsonage not used by the retiring pastor. We hoped mortaring the fieldstone foundation would keep out the resident grass snakes. The pastor’s proud Mom was a special out of town guest attending her son's first service. During the post service parsonage luncheon with church elders, Mom used the bathroom. Reaching for the t-paper, she found a snake wrapped around the roll. The door burst open, after two steps, girdle around ankles, she faceplanted on the living room floor. Construction of the new parsonage began the next day.

Here's one but I'm not using my real name I'm using an assumed name Tony Knotek. Knotek is an unusual last name and where I come from in New England it's rare to find someone with that last name. We were traveling from Florida to New England and we had reservations in a pet friendly hotel. When I walked up to the front desk a man in front of me seemed to be taking a very long time to register. He finally wrapped up his check in process. I spoke to the clerk and told her I was Tony Knotek and wanted to check in, with that she said hold on and called the man who had been in line in front of me. The man turned around and came back. She said to me tell this man your name. I said I'm Tony Knotek, the man replied my name is Tony Knotek too. Amazing the chances of meeting someone with the same name especially since the last name is not a common one. Some of the reason the other Tony was taking so long is because he called in his reservation about 30 minutes before arriving at the hotel. I had called mine in about 3 weeks before so with 2 reservations he and the clerk were going back in forth why he had 2 reservations when in fact one was mine. Anyway when we walked out to the parking lot we introduced our wives to each other and the wives took photos of the 2 Tony Knoteks.

Here's a local story. My husband took me to Katie Bell's (remember that place?) for my birthday. We had a very nice dinner, and after he paid the bill, we walked towards the exit. We were going to go down to the square and listen to the music, when he said he wanted to go to the men's room. While he was gone, I stood at the corner of the bar for a few minutes, when this painted lady came over to me, gave me a hip check, and said out loud that "this was her corner and I better leave." Needless to say, she was on the hunt.

"JFK Jr. 10 Years After" by Dr. Douglas Lonnstrom
 

A good friend in Albany here, Dr. Doug Lonnstrom, wrote a book about the crash that killed JFK Jr. A terrifying read, and yes he managed to kill himself, his wife and sister-in-law. Every decision JFK Jr. made that day was bad and one step after another to death.

Stolen Jeep
 

When we lived in Miami Florida our jeep was stolen in an RV campground. We thought that jeep was gone forever so we went out and bought a convertible car. Two days later my husband said let’s jump in the car ride around and see if we see our jeep. I said sweetie that jeep is probably in Michigan by now broken down into parts. We did jump in the convertible with the top back, and our 2 Schnauzers in the backseat. As we are driving out of the campground my husband hands me his cell phone and said call 911 that’s our jeep coming toward us! We jump in behind the jeep and pretend that we are not following him while talking to 911. The tag had been changed and I kept the 911 operator up-to-date on which streets we were passing and we could see that he caught on and he sped up and so did we. The operator said ma’am you need to pull over if anything happens it will be your fault. I said I am not taking my eyes off this jeep so we ran stop signs worrying that he would take us into a subdivision with a bunch of friends waiting. We went through several counties came to a red light and my husband said I have to stop it’s red, and I said keep going as I stood up in the car and waved all the cars to stop. We saw a police car coming toward us and I told the operator the police car coming toward us is coming toward our jeep. He turned around behind him and cars came from everywhere pulled him over into the ditch and gave us thumbs up saying we needed to change careers. It was a 16-year-old boy and he smiled at me. The police called a drug enforcer to come and check out the jeep and after that they returned it to us happy story!!!

Thanks for sharing. Question. I can see why you would need a hole in the clouds for descending, but couldn't you just head upwards, without a hole in the clouds?

All good stories. Thanks for sharing, everyone.

When I was stationed at my 1st duty station in Germany, I was certifying on a certain truck for my government driver's license. The policy was to refuel the vehicle when bringing it back to park in the compound. As I approached the fuel pumps I asked my supervisor which type of fuel we needed, regular or unleaded. He replied "Mo gas." I responded, "Yes, I know, but which one? Regular or unleaded?", to which he repeated " Mo gas." We repeated ourselves a couple of times before I reached the pumps and was totally embarrassed to see the pumps labeled "DEISEL" and "MOGAS"!

That's what makes learning to fly so "interesting". It seems so easy once you master the art of being able to reuse the aircraft after landing it. But you don't know what you don't know, yet. Most of the crashes come around the 100 hour mark, and then there is another grouping around the 1,000 mark, when you start to feel like an old hand.

It's not an especially dangerous hobby, but the penalty for dumb mistakes is high, and you might not even realize you're making a dumb mistake at the time. It had never occurred to me before that incident that the flaps were useful beyond landing. And I'd been warned that VFR on top was dangerous, but I just assumed it was because you might get stuck there. Nobody ever mentioned that getting back under the clouds might be dangerous even when there's a great big opening, or that the conditions under the clouds when I got there might be nearly un-flyable.

I hope my story didn't scare people off from flying. It's the most rewarding thing I ever learned to do. But big rewards usually come with risks.

Way back when I was a college student, before I ever took flying lessons, I was hopping a ride in a Piper Apache. We were delayed from taking off by weather and I was getting a bit antsy. The pilot calmly told me "There are old pilots and there are bold pilots but there are no old bold pilots." Ten years later when I finally did learn to fly I kept those words firmly in mind at all times.

I wanted to get my pilot's license, but since I have diabetes, I was disqualified, so I got my 6 pack, boat Captain's license instead, but I would have loved to have flown a plane by myself.

When I was in college in the early 70s, I worked at a boys camp in western Massachusetts as a nature counselor. Basically, I got paid to hike through the woods. When I showed up the second year, I walked up to the nature cabin to start cleaning up the place before the campers arrived. When I walked in, the camp director was talking to a gentlemen and his son about the different day hikes and backpacking trips that we took. Bert looked at me and said "Jack, I would like to introduce to our backpacking leader." Turns out it was Jack Klugman who was starring in The Odd Couple on TV. Since I didn't watch much TV, I had no idea who he was so I didn't say or do anything foolish. However, a few hours later when I went down for dinner, several of the staff were very excited about having seen Jack Klugman. I stated that I had shook his hand and could someone tell me why he was famous. Needless to say I got a hard time for not getting his autograph!

Back in the 1970s I had flown into LAX with my wife and two kids. We had several carry-ons so I waited until the rest of the passengers had disembarked. I took my time to saddle up with all the bags and was almost running up the jetway so I could unload them at the other end. The jetway had a blind turn and I came around it fast with maybe 50 lbs of bags, almost running over a much smaller man wearing a long sleeved Hobie T shirt heading toward the plane to board. Arriving at the gate I turned to my wife and said "That guy looked just like Paul Newman." She said "That was Paul Newman." The airline probably gave him a pre-board for privacy. They even have special celebrity lounges at LAX so celebrities can have some privacy.

Another time I was flying into Long Beach with a first class upgrade. When I boarded a gentleman was in the aisle seat and we politely interacted as he got up to let me get to my seat. He kept a newspaper he was reading wide open close to his face during the remainder of the boarding. He interacted politely with the flight attendant and me throughout the short flight. After we landed I noticed his startling blue eyes as he faced me while getting his bag from the overhead. The light went on in my head. That's Joe Namath! He noticed me staring at him open mouthed and nodded his head (please, no). I nodded back OK. We all got off the plane and at the baggage carousel he gave me a wave as he went on his way. I have run into a few other celebrities at airports, Ricardo Montalban in Guadalajara (a true gentleman!), Joan Rivers at LAX being a real pain to the gate agent as the aircraft's windshield was cracked and they needed to replace the aircraft with another plane. Oh my, she would miss her BBC interview...lol.

I was about 5 years old when my mom started taking me to a braided rug making class in Middlebury, Vermont. It was normally about a 40 minute drive around the lake and over the Crown Point bridge to get there, but my mom, notoriously late, could make it in 30 minutes. Sometimes I swear she could get our old paneled station wagon up on two wheels going around corners, like Joey Chitwood at the county fair. I held on for dear life and prayed we didn’t hit a cow. That was on the way over.

On the way home however, the drive lasted an hour or longer as my mom would take the most circuitous routes. If there was a road we hadn’t been down, she was taking it. It didn’t make any sense to me and I started thinking that maybe she didn’t want to go home, maybe with seven kids at home, she just wanted a few more minutes of freedom. I didn’t know, but I certainly was going to find out. So, finally I got up the courage to ask and her reply went something like this: “Don’t you ever wonder what’s down that road. Aren’t you curious where it comes out? But most importantly, what if we see something amazing along the way?!”

After that, I understood why we took so many roads and it gave me great joy to point out something new we hadn’t seen.

Over the years I’ve kept my mom’s sense of adventure. I’ve traveled around the world and as far away as the South Pole. I’ve never forgotten her words and the lesson she taught me. And I still take unfamiliar roads even when I know the way home. Indeed, I’ve seen amazing things along the way.

A few years back we took our last all family vacation we have four daughters and a son and we went to Maui. We were having a great time and of course we're on a budget the seven of us and it was kind of tight. I was standing in the shade of a palm tree in a swimming pool and struck up a conversation with an elderly gentleman We must have talked for 30 minutes only to find out that he was on my father's bowling team for 20 years.

He had been coming to Maui with five other couples for decades and he was the only male left he asked if my son and I would want to join him and charter a boat fishing The cost was around $400. I said no thank you as much as I would like to do that I have four daughters that I would have to spend the same amount of money on so there's no question I can't do it I'll have to take a pass and thank you for your offer. Every day for a week he asked me to reconsider. Absolutely no temptation on my part I had to say no. Finally two days before he left he said okay that's it I just need mail companionship so bad I chartered the board grab your son meet me at the dock tomorrow morning and he paid for the whole trip which turned out to be wonderful

I was flying to a conference in my military uniform out of LAX, sitting in the pre-boarding seats, reading over my speech when a large man sat next to me. I was deep in thought and didn’t look up when the man leaned in to me and said, “that’s impressive.” I didn’t have to look up to recognize his voice. It was James Earl Jones.

I also spent an Easter with Cloris Leachman (invited by her daughter). We were getting ready for brunch and she asked me if I would help. When I followed her into her kitchen we passed a small hallway with a sideboard. Above it was a shelf of Emmy’s. I was really starstruck for a minute and she stopped and said, “oh, those old things?!” and laughed. She was very sweet.

Great idea! Love the stories!

Years ago, there was a store on East 23rd Street in Manhattan called Madison Hardware. They were a preferred dealer of Lionel trains for years and over those many years, they had amassed a huge inventory. If the brothers that owned the business knew you well, they might allow you into the basement to poke around a bit, escorted by an employee, of course.

My friend Bill, now passed, was an avid collector of Lionel trains and a good customer. He was in the store around 1980, I believe, and got a chance to go down in the basement with another guy and an escort. While looking around the basement, the two collectors talked a bit about who has what and what they’re interested in. It dawns on Bill that this other guy owns a lot of good stuff and he asks him how much his collection is worth. The guy tells Bill that he must have well over $100,000 invested. Bill says, “Wow. Where do you get that kind of money to invest in toy trains?” The guy just laughed.

As they were leaving, the escort asked Bill, “Don’t you know who that was?”

Bill says, “No. Who?”

He says, “That was Frank Sinatra. He comes in once or twice a year.”

Where is my car?
 

I was in Heidelberg, Germany in 1968. Now that was 23 years after WWII, and being Jewish I did not feel entirely comfortable. I went to a bar in the evening had I one beer and became entirely drunk. I think the beer was spiked. I walked out of the bar and passed out. I discovered when I woke up that my passport and wallet were stolen. I then went looking for my car, a brand new Triumph convertible, which I bought in London. The car had British tags on it. So I walked around for hours still feeling the effects of the beer in the early a.m. looking for my car parked by the castle. I could not find the car! Finally, with some reservations, I went to the local police station. I felt very nervous and still feeling the effects of my drink. Best I can remember, the police let me sit in a chair in a office for a couple of hours and probably until an officer who could speak English shift began. The police were very nice and took me back to my pension. This the good part: the next day the police found my car. I had parked in the bus only parking. Apparently, several bus drivers lifted my car up, carried across the car a park and left the car on another street! To get a new passport took 10 days in which I could not leave the country and had some very outstanding and memorable experiences.

May 2012. On a flight from Detroit to LAX for a cruise to Mexico. We hadn’t yet reached cruising altitude when there was a sudden commotion in the row immediately behind me. The flight attendant yelled out, “is there a doctor or nurse on board?” I reflexively responded, “I’m a nurse.” “Please will you help this passenger?”, she said. I stood up and saw a 40ish year old man sitting in the middle seat and laying across the window seat. He was drained of all color, sweaty, and his skin was very cool to the touch. He was nearly unresponsive, making unintelligible sounds. I checked for a pulse and it was thready at about 40 beats/minute. Not good! The flight attendant produced a BP cuff and stethoscope, his pressure was 62/?. I hadn’t nursed at the bedside for about 15 years and I was terrified. For my patient! I asked if they had IV fluids on board and a kit was provided. There I was, starting an IV for the first time in 15 years, at 30.000 feet. I thought I might have a heart attack, I was so scared. (I got the IV on the first stick. Like riding a bike, I guess.) The flight crew contacted a physician on the ground, I reported my assessment to him, he suggested I start an IV and continue to monitor his vital signs. (Whew! At least I was on the right track!) The flight crew informed me we were going to make an emergency landing in Chicago. We didn’t though, we flew all the way to LAX with me tending to this human being, who seemed to be in a very precarious position, without a team to back me. I delivered a total of 2 liters normal saline to this man just to keep his blood pressure at 100. I was terrified I was going to throw him into a fluid overload w all that IV fluid. Did they have Lasix on board?? He did come around and was able to tell me he had no significant health history, took no routine medication, and had no allergies to medications. His lungs remained clear (wo signs of fluid overload). When we landed at LAX, the paramedics were there to haul my patient off the plane. That was 5 full hours of sheer terror in my heart! To this day, I have no idea what was wrong with that man or what his outcome was. When I returned home from my cruise I called the airline, worked my call up to someone that knew of the situation, but wouldn’t tell me if the man survived because of you know, HIPAA.

At least two men have died on flights I was on. No announcements were made. One they threw a blanket over and left him in his window seat. The other they stuffed into a first class bathroom and duck taped the door shut.

One afternoon I was in a plane descending to land at John Wayne in Orange County, CA. I looked out my port side window and saw a huge brush fire down toward Laguna Beach. It was like something in a Cecil B. DeMille movie and it took a while to register what was happening. No announcements were made. When we landed I went home to my house in Corona Del Mar. Ended staying up all night, even hosing down the roof as about 4:00 a.m. flying cinders from the fire were landing on it. 300 Homes Destroyed in O.C. - Los Angeles Times

I believe you but YOWSA!!! That treatment is unbelievable! But I def believe you. No emergency stop for a young man who might have well been dying. Guess it would have cost the airline a bundle to make an emergency landing. Less costly to settle a lawsuit vs. re-routing 300+ passengers. I haven't flown that airline since, I have my principles too.

These were AmericaWest (AmericaWorst) flights, now part of American Airlines after first merging with US (Useless) Airways.

Wife and I must have some of your mothers genes.
We too have travelled a lot of the world, and met and seen some amazing people and sites.
Always down the "I wonder where that goes" track!

If your diabetes is well enough controlled to get a drivers license, you can get a "Sport Pilot" license without a medical. The aircraft you are allowed to fly can't have a gross weight over 1320 lbs or fly faster than 120 knots or have more than two seats, but that doesn't effect the experience. Most trainers can't go that fast anyway. The only problem is finding a Sport Pilot-rated plane to do your solo work in. Most guys who go that route buy their own plane. The planes cost about $100K, about what you'd pay to own a new 'vette, with one big difference -- you'll probably make a little money when you sell it. Airplanes tend to appreciate, unlike cars.

Good stories. Thanks for sharing. I enjoy reading them.

I have another boat story. This one is about the stink pot we owned. We docked this boat on the Jersey shore in Stone Harbor, NJ. At this marina, there was a man who owned a very nice yacht and always had beautiful, "slack jawed blondes who wore steel back braces" standing on the bow of his yacht whenever he went out and came back. He was a short, heavy guy and not particularly "a physical catch," for any woman.

One day at the gas dock, he and I were fueling our boats, so I asked him how he was able to get all of those pretty women on his yacht. He put his hand in his pocket a pulled out a wad of $100 dollar bills. Now, more curious than ever, I asked around the marina if anyone knew this guy. I was told by several people that he invented the green, porta-potties. I guess there really is money in other people's s...

Keep those stories coming.

Thanks. I wish I had known that when I went to the flight instructor's office. They didn't mention that, but then, that was 20 years ago office

Several things make continuing on top more dangerous than finding a way down.

The main one is that you probably don't know how long you'll be there, unless you have a real-time weather map in the cockpit. My Cherokee had a fuel range of about 500 miles, and it was a lot farther than that to Florida. You're better off descending on your own terms under power though a hole, than blind with no power after your fuel runs out.

The other problem is that when the clouds close in, they tend to start rising, because it's usually some kind of front that caused them to do that. Clouds over a front can easily rise into the stratosphere. Small planes like a Cherokee only have a ceiling of about 18,000 ft, but you'll never survive to get even that high unless the plane is equipped with oxygen.

While at Palmer College (the ole boy adding to many degrees already displayed in bathroom, largest wall in apartment) we joined other couple for dinner and movies. After being seated at theater, man in front jumped up to ask for help with his wife, the "ole boy" came to his aid, checked her pulse, no pulse, without alarming man, contacted 911, the lady was taken away, the name of the movie, "the goodbye girl", true.