True story. Our inaugural sail on our H30 last summer found us with dead batteries about a mile from the marina, with the sun setting, and too little experience sailing to think about docking in our slip under sail. Fortunately, there was enough juice in the batteries to operate the radio, and after 15 minutes of hailing, a nice powerboater agreed to come out from the marina and tow us in. We threw him a line, and off we went under tow toward the marina. Now, the marina on this fairly large inland lake has many more powerboaters than sailboaters. And, fortunately, usually the twain do not meet. The sailors are secured in a quiet cove a quarter mile from the rowdy, and I mean rowdy, power guys. (We're no saints ourselves, but we can't keep up with those guys.) But this day, being towed in meant visiting the powerboaters'area to dock temporarily and charge the battery so we could motor over to our quiet little slip. You wouldn't think that the sight of a crippled sailboat being towed in would be enough to get the attention of the revelers on a Saturday Evening, but it is. Everyone wants to watch to see what fool ran out of fuel or, like us, had a "power problem," as my wife told the folks on the radio. So, here we go, the wife and two little kids and yours truly getting ready to dock, and with our good Samaritan tow boater going too fast, wondering how we're going to slow down enough to dock without power or even sails up. Several guys recognize the need to stop us before we hit the dock and ruin the party, and they're ready to catch us - Until - up drives a cigarette boat, with 2 guys and 2 girls, and the girls have pulled down the tops of their bikinis, and they're dancing about to pretty loud music and shouting to their friends on the dock, who are now hootin' and hollerin', and, surprisingly, have suddenly forgotten about the speeding sailboat about to crash into the dock. Then, the young ladies stand on their heads on the back seat of the cigarette boat and waive their legs around, displaying the slimmest excuse for thong bathing suits one can imagine. Kids are saying, hey, what's going on. I'm saying, "get down below". "Why?" "Because I said so." "Aw, Dad!" Wife is apparently taking in the whole situation with great aplomb. At the last minute, the guys on the dock wake up and stop us; we charge the battery and head off for the serene side of the marina. Later I'm reminiscing about the events with the wife. "Can you believe those girls on that cigarette boat?" "What do you mean," she says. "Didn't you see them with their tops down and the thong bathing suits and everything?" "Nope, I was looking at the guys." "What about them," I say. "Didn't you see them? They weren't wearing any bathing suits at all." It's all a matter of one's perspective, but all's well that ends with well ends, I guess.