Isle of Hope, GA – April 11, 2013

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If you don’t know who Wally is, you should probably read his posts from the first, second, third, fourth, fifth, sixth, seventh, eighth, and nine months first, otherwise you will think I’m talking to myself.

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“Hey, do you ever get the feeling like we just never stopped? Like we just turned around and kept going?”

What are you talking about, Wally?

“I don’t know, some mornings I just wake up and head over to the gut to wait for some ice cream and it feels like the ocean is under us or something.”

Wally, that’s probably just your sea legs acting up.

“Sea legs, huh, after a month off?”

Sea legs can be tricky. Some sailors say dry land is never straight again.

“You know what else is strange, I keep getting repair requests. Shoulders and back, hands, salt-encrusted skin, busted toe nail.”

Yea, that’s weird.

“And then just the other day, I was up by the neck, working on a few ligaments, and I thought, maybe, just maybe, I should just go pop over to the eyes for a minute and look around.”

Uh oh.

“And what do I see there? Did I see a couch or a tv? Did I see the refrigerator door or a pizza box? Did I see a bed with blankets and pillows? No, no, I didn’t see any of that.”

Um…

“I saw a mother fracking ocean!”

Fracking?

“Keeping it PG-13. Don’t change the subject. Why is there an ocean where the tv should be?”

Oh come on, Wally, don’t look at me that way. Did you think we ate a half-gallon of ice cream in Key West for nothing? What’s another 3,500 miles?

“Are you trying to kill me?”

You said we were as good as new!

“I was trying to look good for the ladies, impress them, get you a date, I didn’t think you’d believe it!”

Well, too late now.

“Too late?”

Yea, we’re already heading back.

“No, I demand a vote!”

Demand a what?

“A vote, in accordance with the code.”

What code?

“The Pirate’s Code.”

You gotta be kidding me.

“I read Treasure Island. I demand my vote, couch or continue, yea or nay.”

Yea.

“Nay.”

Ali votes yea.

“Ali is a figment of your imagination. He can’t vote!”

Yes he can! He has been on this whole trip and the whole crew gets a vote, it’s in the code. 2-1, yeas have it.

“Fine then, Frank the Flamingo votes nay, says he only wanted to go to Florida. 2-2, tie.”

Ok, Frank Jr. Votes yea, says he want to seek adventure like his dad. 3-2, yeas.

“Who the hell is Frank Jr.!”

We picked him up a week ago, it’s Frank’s kid.

“You picked up another flamingo! This isn’t Noah’s arc. He can’t vote.”

Forget the vote Wally, it doesn’t matter. Without you, I’m not going on. I need you, we’re a team.

“Sweet talking ain’t sweet unless it comes with ice cream.”

We’re going to go by Burlington, Vermont, you know, the home of Ben and Jerry’s, Chunky Monkey, Coffee Heath Bar Crunch, Cookie Dough.

“I’m listening.”

And maybe we’ll have to do another half-gallon challenge since it’s kinda a new trip.

“Seems only fair. Continue.”

There’s fried chicken and fish, cheese grits, grilled shrimp, New York pizza.

“Keep talking.”

There’s something called poutine in Montreal.

“The Russian guy?”

No, it involves gravy, fries, and cheese all stacked together.

“Whoa.”

Think delicious heart attack.

“Ok, ok, Canadians are crazy. I’m in. Me and the boys down in the gut vote yea, 4-1, yeas have it.”

Should we let Frank revote too so we can be unanimous. I don’t want to have to maroon him for desertion.

“No way, he went against captain’s orders, maroon him.

I’ll take tomorrow off.

“Well, he did get us a slice a key lime pie once. Ok, 5-0, yeas.”

Great, Wally, great! Cheers to the Northwest Angle!

“Cheers to half-gallons and whatever the hell poutine is!”