Island Problems

I’m spending most of my summer on a small island in the Chesapeake Bay. I love Tilghman Island with all my heart. But every once in awhile, I’ll find myself giggling (to myself, because I have no friends) about some stupid, whiny, first-world problem that has actually popped up in my brain.

I hate douchebag boaters. These are not the boaters who live on the island and mostly consist of watermen or retired guys. These are the boaters (generally sailboat versus powerboat captains; those guys are more laid-back) who come in for a wedding, or who visit nearby St. Michaels where I have to go once a week or so for groceries. My daughter and I visited the new crepe place there (it’s fantastic) and were seated next to the guy who must be running for king of the douchebag boaters: pink oxford shirt, khaki shorts, tousled-hair, expensive watch, Docksider-style shoes, flashy sunglasses.

Forget his digs though, what made us want to throw a Banana Nutella crepe at him was his incessant, boomingly high-volume voice—this guy didn’t give a shit that other people were trying to eat in peace; he’s used to whatever he has to say being heard by many, however loudly. Truly obnoxious. They’re also stupid: we watch them beach their sailboats all the time because they try to get in or out of the channel when the water is too shallow (a wise islander once said to me: “These guys drive $2 million boats with $200,000 worth of monitoring equipment on them and they can’t figure out when low tide is?”).

Here are few of the other items on my outrageously entitled and stupidly elite list.

The drawbridge is the busiest in the nation and I always get stuck waiting for it. Sailboater assholes again.
There’s no phone signal (a blessing sometimes sure, but often a curse)
I forgot to bring the plastic Adirondack chairs off the second story deck and now the storm blew one off and it got broken. Again.
There’s no Chinese food (or any other) delivery. Obviously. I think one place may have started delivering, but haven’t tried it because: no phone signal.
The sunset is in my eyes so now I have to move writing chairs.
Crab prices are too high this year and I can’t catch enough for dinner.
We have no electricity from the storm. Always another storm.
I overslept on Sunday and now all eight copies of The New York Times that come to the island are going to be sold out.
It’s too windy to go kayaking.
We’ve already eaten at all three of the island’s restaurants this week.
It’s too embarrassing to ask for a plunger at the country store but the toilet is clogged so now I have to drive all the way to St. Michaels, which is 20 minutes away.
The post office is only open about 15 minutes a day.
You can’t buy contact lens rewetting drops on the island. When will I remember this and not forget to bring mine?