[dropcap]Y[/dropcap]esterday, was one of the hottest days ever recorded. It was a perfect day to get stuck in the bay with a dog.

A dog who lacks basic patience.

Let me back up. I’ve been stuck in the Choctawhatchee Bay a lot. So many times, it doesn’t even surprise Jamie anymore.

Or me.

The first time I ever got stuck was on a fishing boat with two other fellas. They happened to be members of a cult. No joke. We had nothing to drink on the boat but a jug of Kool-Aid. When they passed the thermos to me, I decided to take my chances with dehydration.

Another instance was in a rowboat. I found myself stuck on an island. A real island. That day, a series of terrible events led to the perfect mess. My oarlocks broke, the current swept me into a grass-flat. I stayed stranded for seven hours.

I wrote my last will and testament on the back of a T-shirt.

Yesterday, however, was not nearly as fun-filled as those previous times. Ellie and I sailed along when the wind died into a faint whisper. The sailboat ran up onto a sandbar. And just like that, we were stuck in the Choctawhatchee Bay on the hottest day in recorded Floridian history.

I went to fire up the motor. It sputtered and coughed. I tried again, its eyes rolled back into its carburetor. It finally went home to be with the Lord.

My phone battery was at four percent.

Home was two point nine miles away.

And Ellie was doing the pee-pee-dance.