OBFT: The New Style

Those of you that didn't make this year's Outer Banks Fishing Trip (the 29th of such experiments designed to test the limits of the human liver) missed two new additions to the usual agenda. 

The first of these was somber and emotional, as the assembled community of dipshits commended some of the ashes of our beloved friend John Grant to the sea in a place we spent so much time with him. In typical fashion, it turns out we probably broke the law in so doing without permission.

The second event was a bit anticlimactic for most of us. We arrived at the venerable Martha Wood cottage to see a protected area just south of the dune that protects her. Turns out the conservation community in the area located a sea turtle nest in that spot, and for several evenings, an earnest group stood watch around the nest in expectation that the little tortugas would make the playa run in fewer than 12 parsecs. (My guess is that it's nest 23 on this list.) Never happened while we were there, so we're hoping at least Whit gets to see this:

The 30th anniversary next year's gonna be a doozy. Clear your calendars now.

OBFT XXVII in Pictures

They're all gone, I'm still here. The 27th edition of the Outer Banks Fishing Trip was pulled off despite a COVID scare (my daughter's friend had it) and forecasts that looked awfully wet.

like fine wine...

14 aging W and M chums plus OBX Dave and a few of my delinquent Norfolk friends came down on Saturday after the group had mostly depleted.  Kudos to everyone for making it, especially those who traveled long distances and those who made all 4 days.

Here's Friday night:

We usually log many hours at Tortuga's Lie, but the pandemic meant we had beach days instead. Not a bad Plan B.  But we did manage a quick meal there on Saturday.

Gheorghies in attendance included OBX Dave and regular Dave, rob, Wheelhouse Jerry, and a surprise appearance from Marls and family.

One of the nights, the moon and lightning did some tandem illumination.

I'm back to reality Thursday. Can't Can wait.

Tuesday Morning Coming Down

And the hangovers hurt more than they used to, and they last longer, as well. So let's ease back into the workaday, gheorgeaday world, shall we?

If you'd like a cogent and reasonably comprehensive recap of OBFT XXV, our man Dave has an excellent sentence for your reading pleasure. In the comments on that sentence, Whitney said, "I had as good a time at this one as I’ve had at any of the 25." I concur in full. I drank way too much, ate far, far too much, smoked entirely too much, slept too little, laughed exactly enough, played way too many stupid and excellent beach games (inside and outside), lost precisely the right amount of money playing cards, argued the correct arguments, told the same stories in the proper proportion, learned a lot, and loved every minute.

At some point late on Saturday, or possibly Friday (definitely wasn't Thursday or Wednesday), with a good-sized group of dudes sitting around the table in the dining room, someone commented about how lucky we are to have this many friends ready, willing, and able to spend several days together, as comfortable in each other's company as ever, after so many years.

OBFT is a gift, and I consider myself lucky to get to be a part of it every year. Hangovers and all.

So What'd We Miss?

As hard as it is for me to believe, it appears that the world kept spinning while I spent eight glorious, responsibility-free days paddling down a river and then downing a canoe full of Red Stripe and PBR. At the time of this writing, I'm going on 206 hours since I last combed my hair, shaved, or checked email.

But while I was incommunicado and then inebriato, things happened. Vitally important things, mundane things, really stupid things. Here's a rundown:

Our old friend the Large Hadron Collider helped scientists prove the existence of the pentaquark, using maths. The subatomic particle had long been theoretically assumed, but only now confirmed. Noteworthy to those of us who know the Collider's dark secrets: pentaquark sounds more than a little satanic. This seems important.

Mere days after zman called Tesla's Insane Mode to our attention, company founder Elon Musk went one better. "No one was asking for ludicrous model because it's too ludicrous," said Musk in a call with reporters and stock analysts. Zman called it plaid in a message to me. Whatever you call it, the newest Tesla Model S can get to 155 mph 20% faster than any previous version, and goes 0 to 60 in 2.8 seconds. Stupid.

I'm sad to say that new music doesn't come out on Tuesdays any longer. With the overwhelming majority of music purchased digitally, and music's increasingly global marketing, the industry has decided to release new albums on Fridays. As the story in the link above notes, this sucks for record stores (if such thing still exist), but it's generally supported by consumers. Kinda bums younger me out a little, though.  

A U.S.-led coalition of nations reached a nuclear deal with Iran that seems way too complex for me to really understand. The people I generally agree with seem to support it, and the people I generally think are reactionary assholes with no ideas other than bombing our enemies back to the stone ages seem to really hate it, so I guess my initial take is that it's a good thing. One of my normal barometers for complex policy issues, James Fallows, is optimistic, as are contributors to the Bulletin of Atomic Scientists. That's good enough for me, because in truth, like 98% of Americans, I have no idea. That won't stop 98% of Americans from having an opinion.

Our man Marcus dropped 21 on the Heat in NBA Summer League play. Heat check, indeed.

Finally, and probably most importantly, NEW SEUSS! The good doctor's wife found a manuscript he'd written in the late 50s or early 60s while cleaning his office after he passed in 1991. It finally made its way to print. What Pet Should I Get is available in stores in 7/28, but hit the review circuit while we were away. Talk about burying the lede.

Department of Self-Evident Statements: Special Report

I trust all members of the G:TB family had a relaxing, munition- and booze-filled long weekend celebrating the birth of our nation. And while I'm quite certain that this august readership doesn't need much in the way of advice on drinking, I do wish we'd posted this particular news item before July 4th's long day's journey into night. Or perhaps more precisely, I wish I'd heeded the simple wisdom offered in a recent Atlantic story.

According to the headline, The Best Way to Day-Drink Is With Low-Alcohol Brews.

Well, I mean, duh.

There's a reason that Red Stripe is the quaff of choice at the annual Outer Banks Fishing Trip (Coming to a North Carolina beach resort town near you in less than two weeks), and it ain't the Jamaican beer's complex flavor. The lager checks in at a manageable 4.7% ABV, far below the potency of your average beer snob's typical tipple. By way of comparison, some of my personal favorites:

Dale's Pale Ale: 6.5% ABV
Ithaca Flower Power IPA: 7.5% (and the cause of my Sunday discomfort)
Firestone Walker Wookey Jack: 8.3%
Stone Arrogant Bastard: 7.2%
Ballast Point Sculpin: 7.0%
Long Trail Limbo IPA: 7.6%

Now, in the relatively recent advent of session IPAs, a beer connoisseur has a choice to make. Founders makes a highly drinkable session ale called All Day IPA that's a manageable 4.74%. The aforementioned Stone just released its Go To IPA, 4.5% ABV with a tasty West Coast flavor. No longer must we sacrifice flavor for volume.

But until those fancy brewhouses sell bombers at Tortugas' Lie, I do believe I'll stick with Red Stripe. Hooray, beer.

OBFT: A Brief Recap

In one photo, the 21st Annual Outer Banks Fishing Trip unfolds in all its weird, draining glory.

In the background, you see the postcard-perfect weather afforded us by the gods responsible for such things.

If you look and listen closely enough, you can just make out the sound of the surf rolling ashore (not crashing, for the ocean was gentle to glassy during our time in Nags Head).

Finally, at the fore, a representative pair of tripgoers taking a much-needed opportunity for a constitutional in the midst of three-plus days of overindulging and undersleeping.

Check out Sentence of Dave for more details; this correspondent can barely remember his name at this point.

Can't wait to go back next year and run it back.

This Day in Gheorghe

Five years ago, in this very space, something awesome:

No idea who wrote that post, but it's a dandy. 

And, yes, we're down to repeating content that happens to have fallen on the same day of the year as the day in which we need filler.

It's also OBFT Week, so there's a little bit of an excuse. A very little bit.

G:TB Craft Hour

Though the annual Outer Banks Fishing Trip (OBFT) is unfailingly a festival of fun and games, there are moments - generally late in the weekend - when the lads need some downtime to rest and recuperate. Now, thanks to Shea Serrano and Bun B, we'll have something to do with ourselves during those breaks in the action.

Bun B's Rap Activity & Coloring Book features old favorites like connect-the-dots, Mad Libs, and word searches in addition to pictures for kids of all ages to color. And it spans the rap community, including artists like Questlove, Big Boi, Drake, Vanilla Ice, Tyga, and RiFF RaFF.

I'll make sure Mark gets a copy.

OBFT: The Wordle

The 20th Annual Outer Banks Fishing Trip is approaching, and if you've been on one of the previous nineteen trips, then you know what to expect. If you haven't been, but want an idea of what it's like (and this is ersatz at best) then check out the Wordle below. The important thing to remember is this: there is no fishing on the fishing trip. Two decades of this joke, and my parents still think it's amusing.

To create this Wordle, I plugged in my Sentence of Dave OBFT synopses, some Gheorghe posts that tangentially mention the trip, and a few of the pertinent e-mails. It is by no means the definitive Wordle on the OBFT, and I encourage you to make your own, but it turned out to be fairly accurate. 

I especially like the serendipitous sentence "Whitney needed mustaches."

Drink like a fish, fish like a drunk, and tackle box.