Fixed, Enriched

Last week I was in a bit of a tight spot, as described in the post "Broke, Broken".

Yeah, well, now it's all better thanks to a perfect storm of good fortune. (Be warned, the ensuing post is a bit of a shaggy-dog story.)

It started on Thursday when aspiring Olympic Windsurfer Farrah Hall stopped by Fort Pierce on her way to Miami for a regatta. She took me to meet one of her windsurfing mentors, 5-time Olympian, 2-time medal winner Mike "Gebi" Gebhardt. I knew Gebi lived in Fort Pierce, but I hadn't met him yet because he had only recently returned from Luderitz, Namibia. Down there he was coaching world-speed-record-breaking kiteboarder Rob Douglas. (Kiteboarders recently took the speed record away from windsurfers and will probably keep it because they can generate more power with less drag.)



Anyway, Farrah and Gebi are really into to natural foods because of their athletic training, so the first thing we all did together was go to Publix to buy a bunch of organic fruits and vegetables.



While we were having dinner at Gebi's house his neighbor Mike, who is also a windsurfer, came over to say hi. Mike offered to give me his 460 cm mast on an indefinite loan because he has become a wind snob who never uses the large mast anymore. I gladly accepted. That was the first bit of good luck.

The next bit of luck was when Farrah took my for-sale board down to Miami with her and for-sold it, putting moolah back in my pocket. That moolah joined some more moolah I made moonlighting Saturday as a windsurfing instructor at the Jensen Beach Sailing Center. I felt so rich I treated myself to a subway sandwich - I even splurged for the combo meal. (I was actually going to treat myself to a hotdog from a quaint roadside stand in Jensen, but I overheard the quaint proprietor telling a really nasty n-word joke to some guffawing redneck repugnicans in line ahead of me, so I peeled out of there and will never go back. If any of y'all are visiting Jensen Beach, skip the racist hot-dog stand just north of Mulligan's bar.)

Then yesterday I ran into John P. (the guy who sold me the bum mast) at the beach and told him the story about the mast breaking. He was such a gentleman that he refunded most of my money before I even hinted at anything. Shucks, all I was gonna ask for was a subway sandwich.

In honor of honest-John, here is a picture of him riding my gear the other day.



The End