Shut up and Eat the Nuts

Now anyone that knows me well, is keenly aware that one of my favorite things in life are my stories.  There are more than a few of them and close friends have heard them repeatedly Story telling is a skill and you must continually practice to keep your saga sword sharp. Once it gets paused, it’s not very long before the tarnish starts to build and a good story teller knows when to get the verbal TarnX out and clean the blade.

 It’s only day 5 of our epic voyage and my fellow shipmates have heard dozens of my stories already.  None of them have been repeats but it’s a long trip and I can imagine there will be a time when I start in on regaling them with a real Doozer and I will see eyes start to roll and brains click off as they once again say “Jeez Sam again”.  

But last night was different.  We were anchored in Ingonish Harbor on the far north end of Nova Scotia.  Anchored nearby was a close sistership to the Sarah-Sarah, my home for the next few months.  Scott, our Captain, knew both the crew and the owners of the FPB 64 and very quickly after getting our own anchor set, a dingy was dispatched and the crew from the sistership came over for a quick visit. 

 About an hour later when the VHF hail was answered for an invite to hors d’oeuvres and drinks on the other boat.  In the middle of a cigar and a libation ourselves, Captain Scott looked around and quickly agreed that we would need twenty-minutes to prepare.  There was some discussion about this upcoming visit and more than a bit of teasing me about how I might entertain the other boat with a new audience for my tales. 

I don’t honestly know if it was inferred teasing or my own consciousness that kicked in the thought that I would be on best behavior and throttle back my storytelling for the evening and that is exactly what I did. I listened to the others talk, tried very hard to only place input when directly asked a question and basically felt like a small child in the midst of a bunch of adults that spoke a strange language. 

This was not familiar ground for me but, awkward as it was, I stayed alert.  About halfway through the visit my friend and crewmate, Mario, looked at me like he knew I was choking back a story or two.  With a nod and a whisper, “Just Shut Up and Eat the Nuts”, we both choked back a private laugh as the others continued unaware.

It was a fine evening; I enjoyed the drink and the nuts and didn’t regal the other boats owners and crew with even one of my fine stories.  It was only later that I thought to myself that perhaps they were the losers in this exchange, they didn’t even have a chance to hear about ‘porcupines and cattle prods’, or about ‘crawling into a wolf den to take pictures of baby wolves’, or ‘how to get rid of racoons without killing them with syrup of ipecac’, and all of the other tales of Sam.