We've got a couple friends who for the time being call Houston home; growing up, however, home was New Orleans and Charleston... so no strangers to water they. They're drawn to it. To the water and the food and the spirited revelry, like flies to checkered cloth. Good friends to have... good enough to invite a whole slew of us late last month to the Texas Corinthian Yacht Club for a late season oyster roast.
Not being one to refuse an offer to help a friend amortize his dues, we accepted with pleasure and headed down early on a rainy Saturday afternoon, an afternoon that would sink characteristically into a brisk night on the Galveston Bay. Chilly, but perfect for taking oysters off the shell, still steaming from the hot fire. Seafood gumbo and stiff drink helped to mute the crisp wind as well, at least until we resigned ourselves to the bar for the remainder of the evening, where again, the night would devolve characteristically into only the kind of mayhem that good friends are capable of creating.
Hope the next dues check clears, mate.
|still water, very late. end of the pier.|