MY LIFE - Skinny-dipping surprise

MY LIFE - Skinny-dipping surprise

Whereas “In Vino veritas” (In wine there is truth) has a certain truth to it, so too does the phrase “In vino alogia,” (alogia, according to my online Latin dictionary, meaning folly, nonsense, or irrational conduct). Substitute “rhomium” (rum) or “moonshinium” (moonshine, but I made that one up) for the vino and one must suppose the veritas of it would still ring true.

If you are wondering where I am going with this just read on and it will all be made clear.

Last week I told you how the Porch People (two of my sisters, our three daughters, and myself) had rented a houseboat and cruised around Lake Champlain for two days and how we had come equipped with a cache of pirate gear, all the better to have fun on our High Seas lake adventure. Taking that premise just a step further … as sometimes happens … and in the whole spirit of the pirate theme, Kelly also brought along a bottle of rum and a small mason jar of Apple Moonshine (I kid you not. They actually sell such a thing in an actual mason jar).

As further explanation I should also explain that although Barbara, Kathy, and Kelly (all middle aged, but whom we refer to as “the kids”) don’t live anywhere near each other, they are in constant contact with each other via computer and telephone, and when they are so fortunate as to actually be in one physical place together they hate to waste the time sleeping and will stay up until the wee hours talking.

And so it came to pass that on our second and final night on the boat, although we had promised ourselves an early night and an early start the following morning, Barbara and Kelly talked far into the night. And not wanting to have to pack up and carry back home any more than necessary, they also elected to polish off the last of the rum and the moonshine as they talked.
I cannot personally attest to any of this, since like my sister Bev, I had hit the sack early and slept the sound sleep of the just, but Joan and Kathy, light sleepers both, had found it impossible to sleep through the noise.

The houseboat is a steel-hulled boat with all steel construction, so when you walk around the side decks (which are no more than two feet wide) the sound tends to transmit itself right through the whole structure. There is also the fact that the only thing separating the outside from the very cramped inside are windows and doors, all left wide open to allow for ventilation, and on the water, in the dead of night, sound carries exceptionally well, so even if one is being very quiet, you can pretty much hear everything.

Our intrepid and slightly pifflicated pirates apparently saw themselves as almost Navy Seal-like in their stealthiness, whispering “at the top of their lungs,” as Barbara later described it, and not wanting to disturb anyone, sat out on deck, drinking, talking, and laughing. Joan and Kathy, not wanting to spoil their fun, kept quiet and took it all in.

At some point around 3 or 4 in the morning it was decided that skinny-dipping off the back of the boat would be a very fine thing, and so they stripped down and in they went, right there by the refueling dock where we had tied up for the night.

It was a bleary-eyed duo that rolled out of bed four hours later, somewhat worse for the wear, but still pretty pleased with themselves in spite of it all.
“Oh, my God, I couldn’t believe how cold the water was,” Barbara laughed when someone mentioned the swim.

“I can’t believe you skinny dipped right out there by the dock. There must be security cameras all over the place.”

“No one is going to go through hours of video just to look at a couple of middle-aged bodies,” Barbara replied, totally nonchalant about the whole thing.

It was perhaps an hour later when Chip, the owner of the marina, came aboard and with a smirk on his face, looked at the girls and said, “I’ve been seeing a lot of you two lately.”

I have known Barbara for 52 years and never saw her blush, but she turned a shade I could only describe as puce as she buried her head in her hands. Kelly’s face was also bright red as Chip told them there were security cameras all over the place.

I took one look at Kathy who was standing right behind Chip with a gleam in her eye and a faint smile on her face and I knew who had ratted them out.

We let them stew in their own juices for another minute or two before taking pity on them. There were no security cameras anywhere. Barbara and Kelly had been well and truly punked.  (Urban Dictionary definition: “A way to describe someone ripping you off, tricking you, teasing you.”)

Rhea Bouchard Powers is a writer from Cumberland.