Captain’s Log Addendum – Sat 10/11/25
In the fair harbor of Clearwater, beneath a moon of gentle silver, the mighty Cruising Fleet assembled for a feast worthy of mariners. The air was calm, the docks creaked softly, and laughter echoed across the slips like music carried by the tide.
Yet fate, as it often does, intervened.
For though the company was grand in number, the taverns ashore were not built to contain such fellowship. And so, the fleet was cleaved in twain — not by storm or sea, but by reservation. One half was bound for the House of Clear Sky, the nearer port of ease and plenty. The other, braver half — led by Jeff the Chronicler and Sue the Wise — struck out for the distant hall of Olive and Thyme, set upon a hill of 5 degrees incline and ten minutes’ march from the marina’s edge.
They passed Clear Sky on their pilgrimage, catching glimpses of their shipmates already raising goblets in triumph. “Soft seats and short walks make weak sailors,” Jeff muttered with good humor, as Sue spied a glimmering sign ahead — a Piano Bar, whose siren promise echoed in their minds for later.
At last, they reached Olive and Thyme, greeted by a hearty band already entrenched at the bar. Pita bread flowed like bounty from the gods, and laughter rose higher than the clinking of plates. The service was swift, the fare divine, and the spirits (both literal and figurative) ran high.
But when the feast concluded and the candles burned low, only six remained — Jeff and Sue, Alicia and Steve, Sandy and Kevin. With stomachs full and hearts lighter than air, they began their descent to the sea, when Jeff spoke what all were thinking:
“Let us not yet surrender this fine night to sleep. The Piano Bar awaits.”
Down they went, like adventurers returning from the mountain, to the place of music and dim light. Alicia, ever the tactician, seized a table front and center, ensuring their dominance of the realm. Their waitress — a maiden weary yet kind — brought waters first, and soon the libations of choice flowed forth:
• Steve and Alicia, seekers of novelty, ordered seasonal elixirs whose recipes were known only to the gods of mixology.
• Kevin and Sandy, patrons of culture, demanded espresso martinis — but only upon proof of real espresso, not the instant imposter.
• Sue, ever serene, chose the purity of a mocktail.
• And Jeff — noble, defiant Jeff — requested a cup of coffee.
The waitress blanched as though he had asked for Poseidon’s crown. “I must brew a whole pot,” she confessed. Yet Jeff was undeterred. Soon came his prize — a tar-thick brew so dark it defied cream itself. He poured three ounces of heavy cream in vain; the coffee remained as black as midnight at anchor. Still, he drank, unflinching.
With courage renewed, the crew sent forth song requests upon slips of parchment, gilded with a few shekels to quicken their fate. The pianists — twin bards behind dueling pianos — responded in kind, summoning melodies that shook the rafters.
Then came the moment none foresaw: a posse of dancing women beckoned Sue and Alicia to join their rhythmic line. Without hesitation, our heroines leapt to action, linking hips and hearts with strangers in a display of nautical unity unmatched by sea or shore.
At last, the hour grew late. The mariners rose to depart — but lo! the bards struck up another familiar tune, compelling their return. Twice this enchantment befell them before finally, the spell was broken. The pianists waved, the crowd cheered, and the sailors departed as heroes.
Down the quiet streets they walked, moonlight painting their path, until they reached their floating homes. There, rocked by the gentle rhythm of the water, they drifted into sleep — their dreams echoing with music, laughter, and the faint taste of pita and espresso.
🍻✌️❤️⛵️
