We said goodbye
In Marina del Rey
Marina del Rey...population 8 176, area 1.5 square miles - 0.6 of it water...also known as the largest man-made small boat harbour in the world housing over 7000 pleasure boats, yachts and sailboats, basically the largest floating city in the world and this was where my best friend, Mark Sloan decided that he just had to moor his newest purchase...his floating 'sin city'...at least that's what he calls it. Seriously, he had 'Sin City' painted on the stern in beautiful foot high script, bright red of course. Me? I'd just call it 'pleasure on the open water' but I'm getting ahead of myself.
Of course, all new boats need a christening, a smack on the bow with the traditional bottle of champagne to make the name official. Not that Mark is a traditionalist, far from it, he just wants to show off what being the top plastic surgeon on the West Coast can buy. And what's a christening without a big party, which was why three days ago I agreed to his madness of taking time out of my busy schedule to fly across the country to help him christen 'Sin City', which I was pretty sure I'd regret in the long run. But because he's my best friend, my brother by choice not by blood, I rearranged the schedule of my 5 month stint at Memphis General to accommodate this party, which was probably just another excuse to try and hook me up with another one of his bimbos that he found. I was a busy guy. I didn't have the time to waste on one of his castaways, no sloppy seconds for me and with him being the biggest manwhore I know...there were lots of them. So I wasn't really expecting much when my plane landed at Los Angeles International Airport where I collected my luggage, made my way to the Rent-a-Wreck counter, accepted the keys to a puke green 1999 Dodge Neon after I signed my John Hancock on the dotted line and headed out on Route 90 to the floating city, boat slip 6969, yeah, I know...ironic right?
I had a good time
Was the last thing I heard her say
As I walked away
Pulling into the parking lot for the marina, I was totally in awe of the size of this place. It seemed all you could see for mile was boat masts, flag waving in the breeze, one no more distinguishing than the other. So you could tell from the smile on my face that I was so happy that someone had the common sense to break the parking lot up into lettered areas, each area the assigned parking for boat slips in the designated number range, A for slips 1-500, B for slips 501-1000 and so on. And thank God that Mark had the brains this time to give me very detailed instructions on which lot to park in. It wouldn't have been the first time that he'd done something like give me the wrong directions and then laugh his ass off when I called him on his cell from an hour away, wondering where the hell he was. Parking Lot M was what I was looking for and after about 15 minutes of searching, I finally drove in and found an empty space. Opening the door, I pulled my cramped 6 foot frame from this piece of shit they call a car and stretched my legs. My knees felt raw from every turn of the steering wheel rubbing against the faded denim jeans I wore. Who ever thought of turning sardine cans into cars should have been shot on sight. Popping the trunk, if you call it that, it's more the size of an empty shoebox belonging to Kareem Abdul Jabar than a trunk, I grabbed by pull-along luggage, closed the lid and headed off to find boat slip 6969. Only Mark could have weaselled the marina into giving him that number, no matter how well it suited him. It didn't matter that it was already occupied by some old fart of a lawyer, his words...not mine, that Mark paid the equivalent of a two year lease to compensate him for changing slips. After all, a boat named 'Sin City' needed an equally appropriate numbered boat slip. Grudgingly I towed my luggage behind me as I spotted the sign on the pole announcing that slips 6900-7000 were along the boardwalk adjacent the pole on the right. Damn it was going to be a long walk!
And another thing, how do you actually let the owner of the boat know you are there when you have finally walked the mile long boardwalk. Are you just supposed to climb aboard or do you stand there and yell "Ahoy matey!" Thank God for technology because I just pulled my cell from my belt clip and punched in Mark's number. He answered after about 6 rings sounding mighty happy...he must not of checked the call display and thought I was one of his bimbos calling. Coming out on the deck, he shouted for me to come aboard and he'd give me the grand tour. Seriously, it's a boat...how special and exciting could a tour be?