Boat Parade, Wahlburgers, and Buckets of Beer

Fort Lauderdale – 20 kilometres by bus, 10 kilometres walked

At 2am we finished up our last drink in the cockpit after a lenthgy and depthy conversation with Ben and Kate, then watched them row back to their boat as the north wind continued to blow viciously. It was the end of a very long and eventful day.

 

We started the day by walking with Kate and Ben to the weekend market, which was rich in tourist trinkets and knick-knacks but rather poor on fruit and veg. Because they had loved the buckets of beer so much last night, they decided to stay a couple of days longer in the hopes for more boozing and late night conversation!

At the first opportunity we caught a bus and rode into the depths of industrial Fort Lauderdale. There, we found Boaters Paradise. Sailorman is a massive used boating equipment store and was packed to the rafters with goodies: enormous fenders for cruise ships, rusted mounds of thick anchor chain, diving gear, alternators, wire, clothing, fittings of all shapes and sizes. We picked up a spare boat hook, a rachet strap, and were rewarded with a free tie-dyed t-shirt which I will wear with pride. 

Next, we explored the largest West Marine store I’ve ever seen – surely their flagship. There we picked up a spare diesel can and were tempted by some fancy binoculars, but resisted. If I had a few thousand dollars to throw around I could have blown it in minutes.

All that shopping really stirs a hunger so we stopped at Lester’s Diner for second breakfast and feasted with the locals. Next up was McDonald Plumbing, a boater-oriented hardware store that was packed floor to ceiling with everything. If you can’t find what you’re looking for in that store, it probably doesn’t exist. But the name made me think of something.

 

“Kate, I need to ask you a question,” I said as we were walking down the street to our next stop.

“Sure.”

 

“Why do Brits always say ‘Mac-Donalds’?”

 

She looked at me strangely and said, “Because that’s what it’s called. You know, Mackey-Dees?”

 

“But there’s no Mac. It’s Mic. Mickey-Dees.”

 

“Really?”

 

“Yep. Look at the sign. McDonalds. But you can call Mackey-Dees or anything you like. I was just curious, like I am with many aspects of the curious English dialect.”

 

Behind the plumbing store was yet more boat retail - Boat Owners Warehouse. I could have spent an hour in that place, but we only had time for a quick look before speed walking to the bus stop and riding in style back to our hood.

Stillman, Ester, and the girls arrived shortly after 5, to a heaving, jammed, and electric Fort Lauderdale. You see, tonight was the annual Christmas Boat Parade, and the place was pumping. Directly across the ICW was a stage with band playing a bitchin set of rock and pop tunes to a boisterous crowd, fueled by a dozen of food and booze vendors. Many more boats had anchored in our basin and parties and music ensued. The streets were locked with traffic and the park near our dinghy dock was full of people in lawn chairs with coolers.

 

After a lovely meal of grass fed, organic, Marky Mark Wahlberg burgers (Yep, it’s a thing, the Wahlberg brothers sell burgers) our fine guests had brought along, we got set up on SeaLight’s deck and watched as the show began.  Boats of all sizes and shapes passed by slowly on the ICW for a full two hours, elaborately decorated, brilliantly lit, some with dozens of guests partying and dancing, others broadcasting EDM and DJ-spun tunes through massive speakers, and still others with huge blinding video screens. It was entrancing. I can’t imagine the hours of labour spent decorating these boats.

 

Besides us lucky ones enjoying the parade from our boats, the folks on shore were having a pretty good time too. In fact, one guy was having so much fun getting wasted that he decided to go for a swim, then remembered he didn’t know how to swim, so our boat neighbour fished him out and rescued him with his dinghy just in time for the cops to arrive, cuff him, and haul him away.

The final boat of the parade was this hideous monstrosity with random, disorganized lights and a huge Amazon logo on the side. It was roundly boo’d by the crowd; strange considering Amazon likely delivered 90% of the crap beneath their Christmas trees. But wait, there was one more boat yet to come. A lighted sailboat, disabled, being pulled along by a Tow Boat US vessel, putting that whimsical final touch on an outstanding boat parade.

 

With that, we dinghy’d into shore, met up with Ben and Kate, and we all walked across the bridge to see if we could get in on the party and live band. Surprisingly, the event had evaporated quickly - all the vendors were packing up as the band played their last few songs. Stillman and his gang took off home as we continued down the strip, passing packed bars, looking for just the right one. Ah ha! Buckets of beer for $20? Table for four please.

 

We killed two buckets of beer as we enjoyed the Saturday Night Shenanigans. A young dude at the table beside us would run out to the street and pole dance on the guardrail posts to entertain passing vehicles. Drunks stumbled by and we bet on which would fall over first. A top hatted partygoer barfed on the road in front of us, then crossed the street and hauled off five more times in a garbage bin, looking all cool and relaxed between heaves. There was a lot to see.

Back at the boat we had the mandatory nightcap and thus, the journal finishes exactly where it began.