The Thirteenth Plague

We headed back to Chicago early on the morning of Father’s Day. Somewhere off the shore of Michigan we hit a pocket where the high and low pressure systems meet: this is where the black flies hide. Mazurka was overcome with thousands of flies of all natures – tiger and leopard print, big and small, fast and slow, all of them biting. There were everywhere, dying by the hundreds, feasting on each others’ carcasses and us. We rinsed the boat again and again to no avail. No insect repellant or thick clothing could hold them off; finally, we came inside, where the relief was that you only had to swat one or two at a time, rather than a hundred.

For the rest of the day, every slight tickle got a swat.

When we were within an hour from shore, and could see the downtown skyline, we heard over Channel 16, “Mayday! Mayday!”

Mark turned it up; we leaned in closer.

The Coast Guard out of Monroe Harbor responded, asking for the nature of the problem.

“I’m stuck,” the guy replied.

“What do you mean, you’re stuck?” the Coast Guard answered.

There was no response. The Coast Guard called for them repeatedly. No response. Finally, the boater called again, “Mayday! Mayday! I’m stuck!”

The Coast Guard answered again, asking for the location and nature of the problem.

“I’m off Fullerton Harbor,” the boater said (there is no Fullerton Harbor, but we imagine he was somewhere just north of downtown). “The engine just shut off. I tried to get it going, but it won’t start. I’m stuck.”

“Are you taking on any water?” the Coast Guard asked.

“Negative.”

The Coast Guard then asked the boater to switch to a different channel. We switched along with them. “First time in my life I ever heard somebody call mayday,” Dad said.

On Channel 22, the boater described how he couldn’t start the engine, and he was afraid to try – he feared taking in air. (??) At that point, the Coast Guard asked him for his cell phone number so they could call him privately.

But we knew the rest of the story; he ran out of gas.

“Who runs out of gas on the lake?” Dad asked.

I looked at the captain. “I’m sure no one on this boat.”