Special Delivery

Rick announced that Randall was on his way, blades in tow. Soon enough, there he was striding up the dock waving hello with one arm while toting the blades with the other. We shook hands and I mumbled something I remembered he had written about while trying to resolve a fuel issue in Newfoundland. Randall looked confused. “Of course!” I thought to myself. “Mark Hamill doesn’t remember every Luke Skywalker line. Only fan-boys do!”

Awkward greetings aside, Randall gave me a bottle of champagne to celebrate rounding the Horn. I was able to ask the questions about boat sand sail-handing. We toured Seaburban and talked specifics but soon enough the talk turned to other things and as it turned out, we had some things in common. Things like treasuring t father’s brass vernier sextants.

But the true measure of the man came while we were out for dinner. In between mouthfuls of fish tacos, I managed to spit a broken tooth out. It landed on the floor and without missing a beat, Randall pointed it out while I scrabbled about on hands and knees. Eventually, I pocketed the thing so as not to either swallow it or risk having it land on Randall’s plate.

Dinner done, we drove back to the docks and Seaburban, shook hands and said our goodbyes. I know not of a better send-off.