Story Time

I think it's about time for a story, and since I own this blog, you're getting a story.

We were at Lake Milton, a reasonable sized lake with a shoreline covered with scenic and beautiful taverns. We had been skiing most of the day when we decided to stop for a bite to eat and maybe a drink. One friend, Ralph, is a professional water skier. I found out he is also a professional drinker.

Ralph had consumed a fair share of drink (for three people) himself. He could not walk out of the bar on his own. We helped him down the dock and back to the boat. He started up about wanting to ski. Ralph, I said, you can't even walk (he fell off the dock and onto the front of the boat). But he was adamant. OK, I resigned, you sit on the end of the dock and I'll pull. We only gave him one ski because I didn't want to lose two. I pulled out and tightened the rope up. Then I hit it hard. Up he came! This guy couldn't walk but he skied like a pro. I was yanking him around the lake in some really tight maneuvers and he nailed every one.

I was watching him so closely that at first I didn't notice the police boat with lights flashing following him. The siren got my attention though. We stopped. Ralph immediately protested that he wasn't finished. Then he saw the cop. This cop was temporarily speechless. I was sober and driving. The cop is looking in his book and calling on his radio trying to find out if skiing under the influence is illegal (it is not). Ralph was told to be quiet, but you would have had a better chance of getting a dog to sing.

Finally the cop finds something. You are not allowed to ski within 300 feet of shore. Ralph says he wasn't within 300 feet of shore. The cop yells now, "YOU SKIED OFF THE DOCK!". I'm thinking about how pointless it is to argue with a drunk when the cops yell at Ralph, "Fine, I'm gonna let you go!". Now I'm dumbfounded. I ask him how he managed that. He says, perfectly serious, "Managed what?"