In November, when we moved ‘Div from her digs, behind my friend Steve’s house (just before our short sojourn at Anchor Marina), we encountered Steve’s mother’s boyfriend, Chuck.

Steve owns the property, but his mother and her boyfriend come into town each winter and hole up there, while Steve remains behind in Colorado making money.

Lots of money.

For a rich guy, I like Steve a great deal. He’s a genuinely nice guy, even more so since he lets us keep Olivia behind his house in a great slip for free. I’m looking forward to his visit in about a month to take him sailing, introduce him to the wind…

Steve’s mother and especially her boyfriend are polar opposites. Chuck is a stereotypic, bigoted, scrawny drunk who appears to be after one thing: Whatever he can weasel out of Sandy and her son Steve. He has a reputation locally as an abrasive self centered jerk, and my first meeting with him seemed to bear out that fact.

So, when Steve called saying that he had no idea that Chuck and Sandy were in town, and that Chuck wanted to put his boat into the slip, he was apologetic. I felt embarrassed, and assured him that I could find a slip with no problem. Hell, his hospitality had been overwhelming. I told him I could move ‘Div by the afternoon.

The property has a number of palm trees on it, and after each early season cold front, I loaded up my work truck with fronds that had blown off, swept around the place and picked up. It seemed the very least I could do.

Well, Chuck and Sandy had arrived in the middle of a cold front, and when I went to move Olivia that afternoon, Chuck had jammed a huge wad of thorny fronds into  ‘Divs inflatable dink, which I had on the dock, intending to fix a couple of small slow leaks. I still can’t figure out the reason. Just meanness I guess. Why else?

What kind of jerk would do something like this?

Chuck  just stood there, hi-ball in hand, sort of glaring at us as I got Olivia ready to go.

Fine.

The last chore was to load up the dingy. I had intended as a last gesture to pick up one last time, load up the fronds, but now I was pretty torqued off, so I just took the fronds out of ‘Divs dink and hurled them back out on the dock……

I started ‘Div and motored off fuming.

Later, when I had cooled off a little,  I debated a couple of get-even methods, including cast netting a bunch of mullet and throwing them into the bed of this guy’s truck, but decided against it (at least for the time being)….

However, as I mentioned, Chuck is an A-1 bigot. Won’t even shake a Hispanic hand.

So when we saw Chuck and Sandy in Costa del Mar early one morning, I motioned for our waitress, Jenette (who just happens to be Hispanic….go figure….around here were 99% of the population are….)

I leaned over and whispered to her; “You see that guy sitting over there by the window? He hates Mexicans….won’t even shake their hand.”

Jenette eyed Chuck with suspicion and disgust.

“Watch this” she winked…..

Jenette walked over to the table where Chuck and Sandy sat, as if to take their order.

“Well HELLO! I haven’t seen you here since last year” she purred, putting her arm around Chuck and planting a big wet kiss on his cheek before he had a chance to protest.

I could see him squirm, visibly uncomfortable, as if he couldn’t wait to go to the bathroom and wash his face and hands, wash off any trace of that filthy Mexican woman…..

Jenette continued on. “It’s soooo good to see ya’ll here” she said, rubbing his back…”Can I take your order hon?” touching his hand…….

By this time I was having difficulty stifling laughter, and so having paid the bill, we fled the scene of the crime…..

I can imagine he probably burned his clothes afterward too.

Jenette told us recently that Chuck and Sandy haven’t been back, which is fine with me. I like to eat in peace.