You just can’t make this stuff up, part 1 of 2

Skootch closer, children. I have a story to tell….

Part 1, in which we partake of a very expensive bay cruise, and Dave goes for a swim.

It all begins this past Sunday on the beach. Our Sunday beach days tend to start around 10 a.m. and go until at least 7, sometimes later. Our BFFs were down for the weekend visiting, so when the time came to bring them to the boat in the late afternoon, we did some mad scheming to get ourselves back to the beach before sunset, because you see, on this particular day, the beach we had chosen is not one you just drive to and be done with it. No, no, no – that would be too easy.

So we drop our friends at the ferry and head back down to the town landing where our friend Lee meets us in his little boat to bring us back to the beach. We set out across Katama Bay, in which there are flats and sandbars and a couple very specific routes a boat must take to avoid getting beached. We hit a flat, pull the motor up, and Dave gets out of the boat to pull us across. Once we reach an appropriate water depth, Dave climbs back in, and we prepare to start the motor back up.

Another boat five times the size of ours is working its way across the same flat with three guys towing it. Lee, friendly captain that he is, starts explaining to the other boaters that there isn’t much farther they have to pull, and as he picks up an oar with which to indicate the place where the water gets deeper, he tips his iPhone right into the pond.

So this is the moment when a normal person goes, “Crap! Aw, man, that sucks!,” utters a bunch of expletives, and moves on. But not Dave – oh no – as a Jamaican psychic once truthfully stated, my husband is a “damn bizarre man.” He rips off his shirt and dives in after Lee’s phone! I mean, what use is a wet iPhone? I had to replace one after my mother let my niece suck on it for five seconds, and methinks a swim in Katama Bay produces a tad bit more moisture damage than a drooling baby.

Off he goes into the water, and up pops his hand moments later, fingers wrapped tightly around an iPhone.

“You found it!” says Lee.

Dave shakes his head.

“That’s yours, isn’t it,” I say, knowing full well what the answer will be.

“Yup,” he nods.

Two iPhones overboard in a matter of seconds. Two. iPhones.

So here’s another fun piece of information: Dave’s iPhone? Four days old. The real cost of Dave’s iPhone, beyond the 400-whatever-price tag, includes probably six hours spent on the phone with AT&T begging, PLEADING someone – ANYONE – to sell me the damn phone without having to go off island, two cross-state adventures, three SIM cards, secret phone numbers scribbled covertly on the backs of otherwise ligit business cards, meetings behind dumpsters in dark alleys late at night – you know, that kind of thing. It took three weeks to acquire the phone and four days to destroy it. Not to mention, some wicked cool crab is still crawling around on the bay floor rocking Lee’s iPhone and making all the girl crabs swoon.

You’d think this were the end of the ridiculosity, but no. Stay tuned for….

Part 2, in which we nearly die, all future cell phones of Lee’s are relegated to a plastic baggy, and Steve Jobs puts out a hit on Dave.

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3 Comments »

  1. Gail said

    I was laughing my head off at Cheryl’s retelling of Part 2 – IPhone Underwater tale with the trip to Hingham in the borrowed car. Maybe Dave and Lee should just go with the throw-away phones with prepaid minutes until they can grow into an “adult”
    phone.

  2. livewire said

    this deserves to be in playboy magazine. i will send some photos of me when i was younger

  3. […] 22, 2008 at 4:19 pm · Filed under Martha’s Vineyard, hilarity PREVIOUSLY: Part 1, in which we partake of a very expensive bay cruise, and Dave goes for a […]

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