Crossing Panama Re-edited for Nifty
By: Boris B. Chen. Copyright 2021, All rights reserved.
What's this book about?
Crossing Panama is a gay male romance story with a large helping of drama, adventure, steamy hot sex, and tragedy. The main character/narrator was a lawyer diagnosed during childhood with high functioning autism. What does that mean? Read the story and you will gradually become an expert on high functioning autism as well as sailing from Florida to California.
In this book the narrator meets a slightly younger guy, they quickly fall in love, but the young Mexican man had some serious decisions to make about his life and his family. On the two month sailing trip they meet some very interesting people along the way.
The long voyage stressed everyone, not just the sails.
Note: In this book the symbol '----' meant time had passed.
Characters:
Steven Darrow: Narrator, main character. Healthy-athletic 32yo mixed race, graduated from UCLA Law School. Photographic memory, diagnosed with high functioning autism at age seven. Six foot two inches tall, 180 lbs, slender with short black hair.
Tim: Private investigator and coworker of Steven Darrow, divorced white guy in his 50s, living alone on his 1983 Bristol 35 sailboat.
Bill and Sandra Peterson: late 60s retired wealthy couple from Albany, NY. They owned a large party boat parked beside Steve's but seldom sailed beyond Tampa Bay.
Carlo Silva: Latino guy on Grindr, late 20s, US Navy Vet. Managed family tire store. Carlo was American, born in Mexico and now took care of his elderly parents, especially his father with early stage dementia. 5'10" 175lbs black hair and eyes, clean shaven.
Carly Cordova: young Caucasian female hiker, high school diploma, born/raised near Seattle. 5'9" 170lbs. Blue eyes, brown hair. Never actually held a job in her life, born to an extremely wealthy family near Seattle, Washington.
David Davis: young Caucasian male hiker, high school diploma, born/raised near Seattle. 5"9" 190lbs. Never actually held a job in his life, comes from extremely wealthy family near Seattle, Washington.
Susan: although called 'she' Susan was not human, she was a 1985 Bristol 40' ocean-class sailboat, single mast, mono hull, full length keel, cutter style mast and rigging with two foresails- one on a 3ft bowsprit, and one mainsail. Propulsion came from a 20hp 2-piston diesel marine engine and DC generator. Ten horse DC electric prop drive. 150 gallon sewage tank, 120 gallon city water tank, 6 deep cycle batteries, wind and solar chargers. Susan was built in Rhode Island and designed for weekend (wealthy) gentlemen's races off Long Island but was seaworthy enough to keep going and cross over to Spain or France, then sail back. When she was built the company was known for building elegant sailboats that displayed most of its fine workmanship on the inside. Sleeping room for seven adults.
Susan lacked: hot water, electric flush toilets, air conditioning, cruise control and auto pilot, dinghy, indoor shower, carpet, refrigerator, TV, modern door locks, Most of the reason why she lacked some very common features was to conserve weight, space, and DC power. It was designed with understated elegance, with a basic racing hull that was faster than most in her size, but didn't appear too opulent or showy (on the outside).
Copyright and content notice.
No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, without the prior permission of the publisher, nor be otherwise circulated without the publisher's prior consent in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent publisher.
The rights of the author have been applied hereon.
Please note:
This story features detailed descriptions of consensual same-sex acts. Readers that are easily offended should stop reading this story immediately.
There are frequent references made to people, marinas, police departments, and businesses in Florida. None of the story features about those businesses are true, none of what you are about to read actually happened. This story, the characters, and situations are 100% fiction.
Comments to the author: borischenaz gmail
Chapter 1: Crossing the City.
Six years ago I'd graduated from UCLA with my JD then quickly passed the California Bar exam, ten days after passing I accepted a job offer with a law firm in St. Petersburg, Florida. This group specialized in personal injury and class action cases and had a great record for winning very large settlements from the biggest names in corporate America. When I accepted their employment offer I'd never been to Florida before but I felt attracted to their climate and the coastal culture.
One day during my second month at the firm I was talking to a woman my age in my early morning spinning class that mentioned she was recovering from a total hysterectomy because of cervical cancer, she said everyone she knew that used a particular brand of Tampon got cervical or uterine cancer. I invited her to drop by for an interview in my windowless office. After a week of research I presented my case to the lead attorney and was assigned exclusively to the case, then I interviewed hundreds of women and collected their medical histories. My research revealed probable contamination of cotton fibers used to make tampons at one particular factory in southern Georgia. Their cotton fields were knowingly sprayed with an herbicide recognized as being cheap and effective (for cotton) but also carcinogenic. That herbicide was banned in Europe, South America, and Asia four years earlier.
Something I learned about cotton farming was that the fields were sprayed with an herbicide to kill the cotton plants because if they were alive when the cotton harvester drove over the plant rows they would simply fall over instead of standing upright and pulled into the picking machine. By spraying the plants they become stiff and stood up well when first impacted by the picker. The 'cotton gin' we learned about in grade school was used later to separate the cotton from the plant parts, 'gin' was short for engine. In the 1700s when the cotton gin was invented in the USA (its actual history was much older in Asia) there was really no such thing as an 'engine' as we know them today which was why it was never called the Cotton Engine.
To make a long story short, we collected signatures from nearly five hundred cancer survivors, filed our papers with the court, and negotiated an enormous settlement for each victim. Each person received about two hundred thousand dollars in one tax-free payment. My firm won millions, and since it was my case I received a four million dollar bonus and promoted from 'the odd new guy in that crappy office next to the elevator' to Partner. After my promotion I was upgraded to an office with a window and a view to the south. I found out later the only reason I got that particular office was the sun turned it into an oven every afternoon around 3pm. But I never complained because it gave me a view of beautiful blue Tampa Bay and all the wonderful sailboats. One Sunday I drove to work (with the lady I was dating back then) we rearranged my office furniture so the view was to my side instead of behind me, and the hot sun shone on the carpet instead of my back. EBay showed me a window darkening film that you could easily see through but reduced the intensity of the sun by 70% which eliminated the oven effect in my office for a small $19 investment. It was applied like a giant decal with lots of soapy water and a squeegee, the hard part was getting all the bubbles out but we turned it into a game and had fun pushing the bubbles around the window.
At the time I dated an older woman and lived in a studio apartment downtown, I spent time every week sitting on a lawn chair on my tiny balcony watching the sailboats on Tampa Bay and out on the Gulf of Mexico with my binoculars. In fact, that's how we met because she lived on a slightly lower floor in a high rise condo across the street and we sort of spied each other several times, then waved and shouted across the street!
One weekend while driving around looking for a small seafood restaurant I happened to catch a glimpse of a large sailboat sitting in a wood cradle in a parking lot. The mast was removed and the boat was shrink wrapped for long term storage and someone had spray painted (in red) 4-SALE on the white plastic cover with a phone number so I snapped a photo. The bright red paint really grabbed my attention. My photographic memory told me it was possibly a rare Bristol-40 so I stopped and took photos of it from every angle even though it was tightly wrapped in a shiny white plastic cover. The parking lot was fenced so I couldn't get very close to it. A forty foot sailboat with a bowsprit was a very uncommon feature. Bristol installed them to increase foresail size and increase their speed. Moving the front sail support cable further forward added nearly two square yards of additional wind catching surface.
I read about the Bristol boats in High Seas Quarterly. That boat was a collector's item to certain wealthy old men, like a small floating mansion. The interiors were mostly wood and resembled hand crafted restored antique train cars that rich people travelled around the country behind Amtrak trains. Inside they were made from hand cut hardwoods with brass, silver, and gold trimmings. Cushions were covered in wool and silk and often showed silver threads and the finest memory foam inserts. But under the deck they still used PVC plumbing and plastic liquid tanks.
After several phone calls I learned the history of the boat from the doctor's son (also a retired physician). She was a 1985 Bristol-40, single masted sailboat. The owner was a 93 year old Florida man. I agreed to a deposit of one thousand bucks and had the boat unwrapped and inspected by an engineer I knew that had a master's degree in marine engineering. In fact, I had three people (from different trades) inspect her. One of them already knew her, it had been serviced at his marina for years and he also worked at the Bristol Yacht Company in the 1980s and vouched for their workmanship and the condition of that specific boat. When I read him the numbers off the ID plate in the cabin he said, "Ah yes, the Doctor Misner hull, I remember it well. That poor man put down a large deposit and waited two years for delivery!" He told me not to worry about the hull, if it never sank and didn't show any cracks it would be fine for another 150 years. He said some day after I died of old age it may end up in a nautical museum. His comments nearly convinced me but I wanted to wait for the results of the inspections.
Two weeks after the last certified inspection I paid Doctor Misner and his lawyer three thousand five hundred, hundred-dollar bills and he signed the title, they notarized it on the spot. We shook hands and I wished him well. He just beamed with happiness that he got the boat issue resolved while he was still alive. He had some of his family in the room and they all cheered the sale despite that it broke his heart. Since he was recently confined to a wheel chair he could no longer even walk on her decks. I saw a twinkle in his eyes that told me the Doctor had some fantastic stories to tell.
I would have offered him the mounted framed photo of his deceased daughter but when we met his family brought the same photo, but much larger and in color and had it sitting on the meeting room table for everyone to see, as if they were saying their final goodbye to her memory. It was very touching.
My biggest worry was someone in the family would ask me if I was going to rename the boat, but nobody asked. A brass tag on the picture frame said: Susan Misner 1961-1980. I guess I didn't realize she died a long time ago and they still mourned her passing. She was a very good looking kid.
The next day I signed a six month lease at the marina (where the sailboat sat in their overflow parking lot) and started taking licensing classes at night at the college. Two hours a night, two nights a week for four weeks, and they even had a full size boat helm simulator with a 360 degree view. This school also had degree programs for people wanting to pilot freighters or passenger ships.
I took the four week mariners course and earned my pilots certificate. Many insurance companies would not write a policy on your boat without the certification. It was a nice coincidence that one of the colleges that offered the course was literally next door to the marina, the University of South Florida at St. Petersburg. I could see their campus from my sailboat, to the north.
It's been said that doctors and nurses made bad patients, well I freely admit that lawyers made dreadful students too. But my instructor and I shook hands and stayed in touch after the class was done and I got my card in the mail. He was an excellent teacher, regardless of his grammar, he retired from the Navy with a doctorate after twenty years of distinguished service. This guy was one of the people that did the inspections on the Bristol sailboat.
The class also covered sailing in and out of crowded harbors and around Tampa Bay. We used the simulator to learn how to sail around and out of the harbor. I dreaded the first time I'd have to sail by myself out onto Tampa Bay on a windy day. Tampa Bay was shallow with many sandbars, and they moved around too so you had to leave the helm to raise the sails, but not sail out of the marked channels in the process!
I really liked their simulator but translating that into doing it myself was rather intimidating. Even though I'm well schooled and very smart with Autism there are always simple things I struggled to learn. What I really wanted was for someone to get on the boat with me and literally show me how to do stuff, then I could try it under direct supervision. Things involving hand to eye coordination were often difficult for me, luckily law school didn't require such skills. And because autistics tend to be blind to other people's displays of emotion I had to hire an instructor to privately tutor me in reading the jury or a witness.
That summer my world changed from a small life in a small apartment, and my small Toyota Rav4 (1998 two-door with the removable top) parked in a small indoor garage. Then my life opened wider to include a 40 foot Bristol parked at Harborage Marina and Yacht Club. My boat parking slip came with 117vac power but no other utilities.
The marina had very nice bathrooms sort of like the high dollar truck stops. The club had a pool, patio, and hot tub for parties and live bands, an indoor party venue, bathrooms, 24 hour security, and a hefty monthly price tag. Security at the marina was kind of a joke because on the land side it was ringed by fences, cameras, and barbed wire but it was wide open to Tampa Bay! I guess their belief was bad guys had never discovered sneaking into the harbors at night in a small boat, which meant they never heard of the Vikings. The good part was I didn't have to worry about having my car stolen or being robbed walking to it.
My first four day weekend (as a new and very green licensed boat owner) was Independence Day, I spent the entire holiday on the boat but never left the harbor. In fact when the weekend arrived the boat was empty except for a few items I already put on board, like extension cords, fans, and cleaning supplies. The cabin had no air conditioning and we were in southern Florida in July, you could imagine how hot it got inside with all the windows and hatches locked shut.
This boat was well seaworthy, the former owner told me he wanted to sail around the world but never had the time. He also warned me about people that hung out at marinas, he suggested I keep a firearm and a healthy level of skepticism for everyone and everything I heard. Despite his warnings I was falling deeply in love with my classic old Bristol and all the beautiful wood inside the cabin and around the exterior. The interior of the boat really made me feel comfortable and safe. It represented an unspoken confidence and wealth, and just might help me meet a lifelong partner who wouldn't become upset by my odd autistic habits (like inappropriate eye contact and that weird thing I still did with my fingers and my legs).
The good doctor also advised that there were people that did not own yachts but held yacht club memberships so they could hang out with boat owners. He said some of those guys also wore captain hats like the Skipper on the Gilligan show. Boat owners in Florida tended to be older and wealthy retired folks. Many of those yacht club bar regulars were what he called Gentlemen Con-Men. His point was that I should be on-guard all the time. It sounded like he got taken too.
My new sailboat was forty foot long at the waterline, it was about fifty eight feet long overall. It had a V-shaped bunkroom in the front, it slept two adults and a dog or child. There was a sofa that converted into two 3/4 size twin bunks, the dinette collapsed down into sleeping for two more (with room for another small dog), and in the rear corner of the cabin was the captain's bunk, that meant it had space to sleep seven adults and two dogs or small kids. The only bunk long enough for a tall person (like me) was the V-bunk in the bow. She had one tiny bathroom with a foot pump for water. There was a valve on the cabinet under the sink to direct the pumped water to the toilet bowl or the sink. The bathroom was the same size as the ones in jet airplanes and had a vent hatch with a fan in the ceiling.
It had a small galley with a built-in ice box, a (foot powered) small sink, two burner (self-leveling) propane stove, and lots of small cabinets. The ice box was big, it drained melted ice water into the bilge when you opened the drain valve. The ice box hatch had a fourteen inch square insulated door that closed down flat on the kitchen counter, so you reached down inside the large ice box (with a flashlight to see the bottom). The galley looked like it had never been used, judging by the stove.
The old owner left a dorm-size refrigerator on the floor near the sofa bunk, he said he used dry ice in the box and set a layer of cardboard on top of two ten pound blocks. Twenty pounds of dry ice would keep food safe for at least four days in tropical heat. The first time I opened the ice box there was a weird looking strap inside it, I almost threw it away but I learned that was used to lower blocks of dry ice inside. The hatch was that particular size so blocks would fit no matter where you bought them. Worldwide, all dry ice blocks were the same size! I thought to myself that I should add gloves to my shopping list if I'm going to be handling dry ice blocks.
The boat had a newer VHF marine radio and antenna on top of the forty foot tall aluminum mast. It had a GPS and a beautiful magnetic brass compass on a pedestal by the pilot's wheel which was almost straight above the rudder. There was a pole with a hook for hanging a Sun Shower to bathe on the back deck. It had a nice rear deck with room for about seven adults to sit on padded fiberglass benches. There was a spotlight like from an old police car on the windshield frame, so you twisted a black handle inside the windshield frame to steer the light.
The entire hull was white fiberglass over a solid oak skeleton, trees harvested from the hardwood forests of Rhode Island and aged in barns. It had a racing style full length keel and would float in only five feet, two inches of standing water. There was a white canvas canopy above most of the rear deck so the pilot got some shade and cover from ocean spray or rain. The cover was open on the sides and ran up front to a windshield that went all the way across the cabin roof but had no windshield wipers. It also had zippers to add canvas side panels around the back deck but the owner said they were stolen twenty five years ago and never replaced.
The boat had a car stereo in the cabin with extra speakers on the back deck but no TV. It had a small wind generator, a few small solar panels, and six large batteries inside a vented plastic box. The motor for the prop was a ten horse DC electric motor with a marine grade two cylinder diesel engine that spun the generator to charge batteries, run lights, fans, and the propeller too. The entire boat was 13.8v DC , the deep cycle battery case was under the captain's bunk. The generator also made 117v AC power in two outlets, the rest were only powered when the boat was plugged into shore power.
The sails needed to be replaced in a year or two. Lots of the outdoor wood trim needed to be sanded and re-sealed. The Florida sun was extremely rough on wood that sat outdoors, especially if it was also exposed to salt water air like all the boats in the marina.
All in all she was in very good shape considering her age. It needed a few things but with several days to work on things it was essentially ready for a short trip on the Gulf.
Contact the author: borischenaz gmail