Drunken Sailors

If you really want to throw a party into high-gear, just have everybody wear matching t-shirts. Add a late night purchase of some bottles of Maker's Mark, and you're talking some serious shenanigans. It was the Fourth Annual Numbnuts Racing Team Outing, a make-believe regatta that me and three friends sailed this past weekend from Hingham, MA, to Salem, MA, and back.

The captain of the boat is an expert carpenter turned stay-at-home dad and soccer coach. He's the oldest guy, but also the most energetic. Another guy is an MD, who specializes in elderly patients. "I'm the last doctor you see before you die." The third dude is a techie big-shot for a popular travel website. I probably know him the least, but he's a nice guy, and we get along great. We all met when our kids were in preschool and poker nights began. Poker fizzled out since then, so we don't see each other often, but once the beers start flowing, man, it's all smiles. We're laughing, howling and dissing each other like a bunch of sleazy brothers.

The Numbnuts cruise departed Hingham about 11AM on Saturday morning. We threw on our matching tie-dye shirts, which I made myself. I had joked about the shirts on texts, and wasn't sure if the guys actually wanted them or not, but when we wore them, our zany appearance unified us.

We cracked open the first brew at 11:30. We did a beer tasting of Cloud Candy, Little Rooster, Heady Topper and Two Hearted. We were momentarily sophisticated, describing the flavor and feel of every finish. Then the wave of delirium hit.

Maybe we got extra drunk since there was no wind. We did zero tacks, and the sails were down most of the day. We motored at a slow speed, with the helm on autopilot. Pretty soon we were taking turns pissing off the stern. The fog lifted and we took pics. Beautiful 75-degree day. Captain said he'd only been drunk 7 times and we laughed at him. That's not true at all.

By 6PM we pulled into a slip in Salem. The dockworker asked, "What's going on?" I said, "Booze cruise." He laughed and smiled, "Booze work." We paid the guy $60 and he allowed us to park in the slip labeled "Mimi." I'm sure that cash went straight to continuing his buzz.

We walked by the House of Seven Gables and the Custom House, and tried getting a table at a fancy restaurant, called Sea Level, but they were too busy. The hostess admired our shirts, and Techie told her we won our regatta, first in our class. We stopped at Notch Brewery, and the doorman recommended a restaurant. He led us to Bambolina's, and the crispy pizza dough soaked up some of the booze. I had an awesome Sluice Juice on tap, and then we crossed the street and had a Manhattan. Next, we hit Bunghole Liquors for a bottle of bourbon, and we drank it out of the bottle on the way back to the boat. We played some poker inside the boat, and quickly finished the bottle. Then me and Techie decided to get another bottle. It was a fun walk back into town. We stopped at a bar with a live rock band and a total witch in the crowd. So Salem. The second bottle was barely touched, thank goodness.

Techie snored all night and kept us up. Doc managed to find some ear plugs. I got out of the boat and took a walk. There was a beautiful dawn over the water of Salem harbor. When I got back to the boat, I noticed a stain on the starboard side. "Somebody barf?" It was Techie. Poor guy. He did look pretty green.

The six-hour sail back to Hingham didn't help. He barfed several times and Doc took a picture, for some awful reason. I felt a little queasy too, and tried to focus on fishing. I caught two mackerel, one of which was big enough to keep. Those were the only fish caught. I gave the fish to the Captain, who later cooked it up for his son back home.

One last detail from the journey home was the whale we saw. A black whale lurched up from the water, and circled our boat, up and down, for about an hour. Captain shut the engine off and we drifted, listening to the whale breach and take a breath. "Maybe the barf attracted the whale," I said, trying to make the poor guy feel better.

Looking forward to the fifth annual. Will be hard to beat.