having been a lifelong sailor, i've had ample opportunity to join the "bonehead club"...
to set the stage, i was 23 and living at va beach w/ one of my college buds. the beachfront cottage we lived in (den of iniquity it was) had a hobie 16 and we were footloose, fancy free and..well 23. to add another twist there were two sisters involved. collectively we came up with the bright idea to go sailing. i was the only one w/ any experience(granted i had been single handing since 5), so bravado was also in play here. there was a decent breeze (okay, it was blowing about 15 knots), and we pushed said hobie into the surf and hopped on the tramp.
did i mention that there were no pfds on board and that i was the only one w/ any sailing experience?
well we are cruising right along paying little attention to the breeze freshening ever so much..i'm just happy to be sailing with the prospect of some female companionship awaiting our eventual return.
we are all sitting on the windward side getting a little air under the pontoon. the two sisters (combined weight about 230 lbs) didn't have a firm grasp and went sliding straight down to the leeward side..well, that put us right over.
frank (my co-conspirator) and i righted the boat, while the fair maidens tread water. so we get everything straightened out and the last words i heard before a splash was.."i'm gonna stay with the girls" frank jumps back in expecting me to maneuver around to pick em all up.
i'm sitting on the tramp soaking wet as the sails fill and i'm on a broad reach headed away from shore...it was at this time i grabbed for the tiller only to notice it dancing nicely astern away from the boat. i am heading out into the atlantic at great speed..(the bad news i am completely out of control..the good news, i'm making great time)..i look back to see frank and the girls bobbing in the surf about a mile offshore..quickly i lose sight of em.
i figure the only way out of this mess is to climb back on the pontoon and snatch the rudder bar and tiller and flip it back forward. so here i am screaming along, no life jacket, blasting through 2-3 foot swells and hoping i don't fall overboard. i snagged said rudder bar flip it over, scramble back on the tramp and try to regain control of this runaway train.
i sheet in the main and start trying to make my way back to shore. i was 165 lbs soaking wet and no match for the 18+ knot breeze i was enjoying. yup..as i head back in i managed to get knocked over twice. the best i could do was try to reach back to shore making really long tacks along the beach. now i had plenty to think about in between capsizing..most notably the fate of three of my friends bobbing like corks in the ocean, the good news it was mid september so the water was still warm, although being a good mile from shore didn't instill great confidence.
i get back close to where we initially went over..no sign of them..now i'm dealing with the prospect of trying to explain to their parents how i had killed their progeny, through abject stupidity in a quest for pu**y.
as i made my way closer to the beach, i saw the three of them standing waving..it seems a passing powerboat scooped em from the drink and dropped them ashore.
we still laugh about this adventure some 27 years later...
oh... and btw..
i didn't get laid that night