Does Your Boat Have a Koozie Problem?

Our skipper is off to Africa on yet another medical mission, so the crew has set sights on a little boat love and cleaning today. Versus the Big Dig a few seasons back, we’re not anticipating as much schwag haul-off before our haul-out, but each of us has voiced concern that the koozie count is up again—not quite NASDAQ high, but sizable.

Skipper’s the first to acknowledge that he’s got a koozie problem

Drinking Team with a Koozie Problem
Skipper’s the first to acknowledge it, so I feel fine sharing this: he’s got a koozie addiction. Regarding hopes for recovery, I hear that admitting to an addiction is step one; step two is usually formulation of a regime with gradual tapering off of foamies for placement around drink containers. For this boat, the cold turkey method is not an option as cousin Old Crow shows up now and then.

I’m going to do a koozie count. During the cleaning I could completely remove all traces of temptation; meaning extricate every last darn koozie from the boat. I tried that once. On that last big haul the koozie count was either 67 or 87. When I confronted skipper to relay the tally and inform him of the removal, he reprimanded me. He retaliated by bringing another half dozen of the things the next week, hideous neon green with some nonsense advertising. And each week thereafter he added a few more—whether purchased from exotic travel spots recently visited or local thrift shops. He hunted down the ugliest ones, and of course koozies with pirates or ones imprinted with ‘manly phrasing.’

Last time the count was way up there, either 67 or 87 of these stupid things.

Last time the count was way up there, either 67 or 87 of these stupid things.

Koozie Tootie
In an effort to help with skipper's koozie condition, I even consulted his family and friends—alerting them to his challenge and asking for assistance with a full-on koozie abatement. He learned about my efforts and for weeks on end delighted in making a big fuss over which koozie to use that day. He made boisterous announcements to the crew pre-race while pouring ice around beer bottles in the sink. “Where’s Martha? Which koozie should I use? What’s the count now?” He tormented me, the one most invested in wishing for his recovery, by announcing the number and style of new koozies he had brought onto the boat that day, or how many he planned to buy in the coming week.

Things came to a crushing blow at the end of season racers’ dinner. During prize giving skipper stood up in front of the club, proudly clutching his brand new embroidered sail bag and thanking race peers. He then called me forward, singling me out from the crew. He made a fuss as he hand over a special gift wrapped in pink tissue paper. Inside was an orange zoozie. I later discovered he had discretely given one to each member of the crew earlier in the night, so not only did I not feel so special, I realized he had cleverly increased the overall koozie count by eight.

Cheers to you skipper. We can't wait to see what kind of foamies you find in Zimbabwe.

Don't let this happen to you.

Don't let this happen to you.