So we read online that they are going to have hydroplane races at this place named Kent Island at the Kent Island Yacht Club. "SWWWWEEEET" you are thinking--much as I did, and Eli said out loud when I asked him if he wanted to go. Naturally, Holly agreed to go--albeit grudgingly. Kent Island sits between Annapolis (the home of sailing, in this continent at least) and the rest of Maryland. About 45 minutes away. So, we load up the kids and head out...everything was fine until we hit construction before we get onto the main road out of D.C.--US50. That sucked. Who the hell does construction work during the day on a SATURDAY?!
Fast forward to getting there...eventually. It was about 167 degrees in the sun, 152 degrees in the shade--with 80% humidity. So, we park the car--the directions were accurate enough from the website which explained that we parked "under the bridge" and reminded us on every page of the site in bold all caps "NO COOLERS ALLOWED". These should have been signs for me right then, but I was too hopped up on the thought of seeing some boats going 120 MPH into a crowd of on lookers that I totally ignored those two little details.
Park the car...good so far. Get on the waiting yellow school bus (getting more shady by the minute). You know things are going to get interesting when people getting onto the bus have one or more of the following items: camo folding camp chairs with the words "Deer Slayer" embroidered on the holding pouch....hats with collections of pins some of which have things like the confederate flag crossed with the black MIA flag, in combination with enameled frogs, hogs, foxes wearing neck ties, fireworks exploding, beer steins clanking, and "I'd rather be working" x'd out....buzz cuts on all children in the family...young men proudly wearing their "clean 'beater" on account of it being a special occasion...you get the idea.
Now all of that ran head-long into the other and vastly opposing camp--the people that actually belong to the Kent Island Yacht Club...who, were also present in droves. We rode out with a guy and his grandson. The guy had on faded red khaki shorts with embroidered Maryland Blue Crabs on them and some sort of "sailing sunglasses". I think his grandson's name was Trent, or Chip, or something like that.
So, two worlds that do not ever intentionally join forces collided with as much civility and politeness each side could muster. Things did get a little tense now and again, but for the most part everyone looked at everyone else and thought, "Glad I'm not wearing THAT."
We sat in the stands to watch the first preliminary qualifying heat and by the time that was over with I was pretty much drenched. The kids looked like they had just been on a 3 mile sprint--red cheeked and sweating like mad. These were the smaller, older boats...the ones that only went 90 MPH.
So I liked the fact that they made the guys at least wear safety helmets. This boat came in last place, and was the local favorite. I think Holly liked it because it was "pretty". Either way, um...they still lost. But they didn't give up without a fight. I was impressed at the way the boats looked like they were just about to wipe out...
So the day progressed and we left all sunburned, full of bad food, sweaty and tired. But we saw a boat race, damnit. And it was fun. (repeat until believed!).
Here is another couple of pictures from the day...there were many kinds of hydroplane boats...who knew.
Some, like this boat had fancy-schmancy sponsors like Penzoil, and Rock Star Energy Drink...This yellow boat lost too. I guess being pretty and winning are mutually exclusive in the world of semi-professional powerboat racing.
No comments:
Post a Comment