There was great sadness amongst the male crew of the chalupa San Augustin. Great wailing and crying, not to mention a couple of gents beating their fists and screaming, “Why, dear Lord? Why?”
Sadness like someone had stolen our puppy. Sadness like someone had spit in our beer. Sadness like the TV was out for a week and we had to converse like normal humans with family.
It happens.
The St. Augustine Maritime Heritage Foundation hosted the inaugural San Agustin Rowing Challenge on July 4 along the bayfront. It pitted a men’s team against a women’s team, each taking turns rowing the 37-foot replica of a 16th century Spanish longboat — the chalupa — against the clock.
After it was over, the announcer gave the verdict. The men had won on time, but after the judges’ scores on style and technique and whether all of our flies were zipped up (knowing our crew, they probably weren’t), the women took home the cup.
Ouch!
Maybe we made some missteps. Trying to bribe one of the judges — the mayor! — didn’t go over too well. It didn’t sit well with another judge — the former mayor! — whose feelings were hurt when we DIDN’T try to bribe him.
Then there were little things. Like we didn’t sing. The women sang as they rowed. But our coxswain hates singing. No, let me re-phrase that … it makes his spine crinkle like an accordion. It causes him to yell, “Shut it, sons of scurvy dogs!” (He thinks it ruins our concentration. He’s right. We ran aground once.)
Maybe we didn’t smile or wave enough. This was especially tough on me. I love to smile and wave. I’ve been known to wave at fish. And I just couldn’t help it when I saw my daughter on the bayfront beaming and calling to me.
I paid for it. “Thompson, you rabid uncle of a scurvy dog,” the coxswain yelled, “wave again and it’s overboard with you!”
Maybe it was the sad tridents — we were known as the “Sons of Neptune” — crudely tattooed on our arms with a Sharpie. Or that we couldn’t even coordinate the color of the bandanas on our heads. We looked like a hobo rainbow flag. Maybe it was our overall appearance — rejects from a low-budget pirate movie.
But, boy, did we row. Fast, and some of us, smooth. We half-ed the women’s time. We were focused and determined. We didn’t even have time to drink the rum we snuck aboard! One spectator said it was like watching a cigar boat … with rocket engines.
Alas, we lost. It happens. The Sons of Neptune will get over it. Multi-colored bandanas off to you, ladies. You rowed really well, and brought style to that dingy chalupa. Much more than a bunch of scurvy dogs who probably didn’t even have their flies zipped.