Hear I sit my ears attuned to the deafening quiet emanating from the
spirited sailing vessels desiring to winter in the Bahamas.
I have listened intently for the fluttering of signal flags
and sails raised on high. Alas! There is to be heard not a sound.
I fear they may have been swallowed in that vast sea of shoal water and
treacherous finger Islands that abound along the Los Olas Trail.
Who's restaurants movie theaters and marine stores are more attractive
to the sea fairing man than even sirens or comely Island maidens. These
treacherous waters where thousands of good ships lie trapped among
finger piers that grasp and hold, each ensnared in spider like
webs of Dacron filaments and highly charged power cables.. Thousands
cry in vain for their release.
It is a sad fact, known to all sea fairing folk who hide in dread and
fear, at anchor among the many Bahamian Keys that the ever tightening
web is set to draw them back.
Barely out of reach, thousands languish aboard their vessels, doomed
to the eating of the most unsavory of food as lobsters, fish and conch.
These many poor souls destined to swim amongst such gaudy colored coral
reefs as to sear their senses and lie in soft sands and worm sunlight
without benefit of the most meager form of clothing. We fear for you who
are such a short distance from terrible danger.
Sense you danger those of you that have tarried in Los Olis Bite.
You stand in great peril and must break you shackles and escape the
terrible fate to be visited upon yourselves. Sail across that narrow water
that separates you from eternal life of pleasures. Even you who have
been bitten by that most beautiful Black Widow spider, FT. Lauderdale. Yes!
There is life even after the Widow injects her paralyzing venom for those
who are bold and do not tarry.
We listen for your bow wave and the rustling of your canvas.
From the land of cold north winds that is the Chesapeake Bay and other
northern waters we will rise up and cheer your deliverance to the free
waters to the east. You shall be our light in this land of dark murky
water filled with slimy stinging fish and things.
Here in a land where there are never to be seen, thongs and tiny snippets
of material barely to hide the most desirable of things. This land of narrow
minds and wide behinds.
We are watching. Rise up! Cast away you bindings. Sail away to the watery
places of your childhood dreams. Listen to the North for our shout.
ESCAPE TO THE EAST, MY GOOD MAN. Escape I say: TO THE EAST!