======= ======= ====== ====== ====== ===== ==== ====== ====== ===== ==== ======= ======= ====== ====== ====== ===== ==== ====== ====== ===== ====
S. Z. N.
Pontoon. Boat. Season. Hoist the mainsail. Scuttle the jib. Turn on the blower. Load up the cooler with your favorite domestic beers and hog the Doritos. It’s finally here. Many people say that summer starts on Memorial Day Weekend, but for anyone who lives north of Dallas, summer starts the second you set foot on a majestic, 24-foot Sun Tracker Party Barge. For me, that day comes with the intermittent 80-degree days that we are blessed with in the month of May.
So, open up that 80-horsepower Mercury outboard and take me away to mysterious lagoons full of morally-bankrupt backwater dock bars that wouldn’t pass a health inspection on their best day. Throw down the anchor in party cove while I blast “Drive (For Daddy Gene)” by Alan Jackson. I actually made a sweet Spotify playlist just for today. Everybody turn off their bluetooth. Blueteeth.
Who needs a beer? You good on beer?
But seriously, you should let me drive. Am I trained in boatmanship? You bet your ass I am. I have boating licenses from three different states, old chum. What exactly does a boating license entitle me to? I’m not sure exactly, but let me jump off the bow to tie us down with a perfect cleat hitch in three seconds while we fill up on gas. I’ll grab some auxiliary Chex Mix just in case we run out of those Doritos. We good on beer? I’ll get a provisional 12’er of Modelos. No one is stepping off this damn boat sober. I bought this hilarious “Female Body Inspector” koozie at a country ass gas station just for this occasion. Please laugh at it.
Don’t make fun of my sunshirt. Skin cancer is a serious condition that threatens a large swath of fair-skinned Americans of western European descent. Plus, I got a late start on Cutting Season.
Boy, it’s gotten hot. I’m ready for a little dipski (to piss). This sun is far too hot for us not to hop in the water for a swim (piss). I know the water can’t be more than 62 degrees right now, I’m sure I’ll get used to it after a few seconds (once I’ve surrounded myself with my piss). I’m gonna wear this life jacket, diaper-style (because that’s what I’m about to turn it into).
What’s it gonna take to let me behind the wheel of this bad boy and open her up? You got a waiver I can sign or something? Just for a few minutes. Let me get the feel of her. Yes, I will settle for tubing. There’s no way you’re flipping me. I’ve been tubing since I was a young buck. I once got tossed so hard I temporarily lost feeling in my legs. At least I said I did to make my mom feel bad. Anyway, fire it up. Hit it.
Wow! What a rush that was. Good ride, skip! I was so hopped up on adrenaline that I totally ignored the fact that roughly six people just saw the outline of my penis and balls through my swimsuit when I got on the boat.
Man, I’m beat. Should we head back? Fire up the grill? The sun’s starting to go down and I could eat an entire slab of ribs. I picked up some $4 cigars at a gas station on the way in. Was saving them for after dinner.
Alright, let’s throw all these dishes in the sink and go light up these stale cigars. You got a spare bed? I don’t think I’m in any condition to drive, unless you’re thinking about firing up the pontoon again and taking a sunset cruise. I’d be down for that so hard. .