Chapter 130

The commander of the airbase lost interest. He was used to dealing with American tourists. To no one in particular, he said, “Locos, todos y cada uno de los bastardos. Niños universitarios en particular.” He said it with feeling, and the words gave him satisfaction. Spring break was a great burden on his soul and his church.

I chuckled. “De hecho, son una carga. El dinero que gastamos ayuda.”

He looked shocked. “¿Me lees la mente?”

“No senior, tu cara, tus ojos, incluso tu lenguaje corporal, eres apasionado.”

He looked indignant.

“No juegues al póquer, mayor.”

“nunca gano!”

I switched to English, “We are leaving tomorrow. I need a crew to sail my boat to Houston. Do you know...?”

“You need an attitude adjustment...”

“Look ... I know I’m an asshole ... but you didn’t need to be mean about it.”

“No,” he said. “You need a delivery crew ... like the one in San Deigo. There’s a group in Cancun who do that. I’ll call and ask.”

He did.

I was shocked when he told me.

“Fifty five hundred to move my boat?”

“For the safety of your delivery crew ... you must have had a professional surveyor recently survey your boat ... and I know you didn’t ... because we have lunch every Wednesday ... and he said you didn’t.”

Now I know I couldn’t say, ‘Seven told me it’s a good one.’ And I also know that I couldn’t tell him I’d used my watch and traveled to the future so I knew I still had the boat ‘then.’

Nope ... that wouldn’t work ... but ... since I’d traveled to plus twenty and knew I still had the boat ... and the Skyraider ... I must have paid.

So ... I did.

“Well ... that was easy,” he said as he pocketed five hundred.

“Hey!”

“Service Fees,” he said.

We had to stay one extra day for the survey and to pay the half down to the delivery crew ... we also had to pay the provisioning chandler to stock the boat. I didn’t mind that ... it’s only a four day shot to Houston ... how much food could three people eat in four days?

The Spad checklist seemed extraordinarily long ... at least it took longer to complete the walk around. The Spad had been out of my comtrol for 9 days and I was being careful. I didn’t find anything wrong ... or out of place ... this was Mexico ... and I was making sure I wasn’t smuggling drugs. Pot ... well it was legal ... but cocaine ... nope.

Our bicycles were on the cat ... we loaded our souvenirs in the ‘great void’ ... I can’t believe how much junk we bought ... or how much of it was made in China. We cleared with the tower and buzzed mostly 38 degrees west of north. There was a big expanse of seawater and ‘feet dry’ over the Matagorda Island General Bombing and Gunnery Range Airfield. Not a going concern. During the war it was huge ... now there’s a State Park Campground.

We called Customs and landed at Bergstrom ... the agent laughed at our collection of ‘genuine’ Mexican souvenirs ... but we did get sniffed and ransacked. I was surprised at how polite they weren’t ... until I passed ... then they were all friendly.

One thing ... they wanted to know why I didn’t do Houston for inspection.

“Out of the way,” I said. “Now ... if you guys would have come to my home field, I’d have landed there.”

“Call and we’d have done it.”

That shut my mouth.

I called the tower on the phone ... told ‘em I was an up and down to Bud Airport.

You remember when I flew up and down to San Marcos? Yup ... only going north instead of south. It’s about 7 miles as the crow flies... 34 as I flew it.

Mrs. Dent was glad to have her son back.

School. I’m a Senior ... and 17.