Ted

The cast of characters that one comes across in this thing of ours is quite the site to behold. Like cartoon characters that are almost too good to be true, we work with and serve an unbelievable flock of diversity and lunacy that when I tell these stories I sometimes wonder if they can be true....but trust me, they are.

In my younger days our staff meals would be sitting around the communal table while sharing a well prepared team meal before or after service...OK, sitting on over turned buckets and milk crates while eating our famous "bunwhiches" or possibly a quick pasta thrown together for the team, we would often share stories from our time in the trenches. A time honoured tradition that is part of the glue that holds us together as a rag tag group of misfits and malcontents...our shared history validating our jobs and lives within the context of what we do, what we have seen and what we have heard. I love those stories, as you can imagine, they provide the colour in what we do and bring us a bit closer together.

A thousand years ago I was part of a small conglomerate that ran the catering for a sailing club in Toronto. Conglomerate may be stretching it...three guys that just graduated college is more apt. Three young and talented wannabe chefs and entrepreneurs that really had no business doing what we were doing, but we were doing it anyway. The club was a meat and potatoes kind of place...specials revolved around burgers and sandwiches, soups were hearty and portions too big. For us aspiring culinarians it was a chance to call the shots and grow the catering end of our business, which we did quite well while serving the club membership their brontosaurus size burgers and troughs of baked beans. Of all the members that we came into contact with one stands out, providing endless entertainment for us....a weather beaten middle aged fellow named Ted. The ever inebriated slurring Norwegian day sailor that could have broken in half any one of us snot nosed young men with his wiry strength and take no prisoners approach. He was both incredibly annoying and down right worth his weight in gold for the stories and anecdotes that we got because of him.

Ted drank only Foster's beer at the club...I should say he only paid for Foster's. I'm sure he had a flask or two hidden on his person, full of rum or Norwegian moonshine made from reindeer milk and juniper berries. He slurred his words so badly that coupled with his accent it was near impossible to make out what he was saying at any given time...generally all he said was "gimme a Foster's" and that was hard enough to understand. And that's what he said to me as he strolled in one morning while I was reading the morning paper, his desire for a Foster's knew no time limits. But today he was soaking wet and two hours too early for the bar being open. "Ted, why are you so wet and where the hell are your shoes?" I asked....settling in for a good story.

It seems that Ted had gone out for an early sail. A peaceful way to spend the morning, out on the waters of Lake Ontario with very little human contact. Ted, I suspect, was happiest by himself on the water and this morning should have been a happy one for him. But sadly it was not, Ted didn't pay attention to weather reports, or police advisories either, but that's for later on, Seems the wind speed for the morning was going to be negative 8 knots. The lake was like a sheet of glass with its calmness and if you sail, you know you need some wind to make those puffy things become puffy. He had enough dwindling wind to get him out a few hundred metres past the break wall before it all died away, leaving him stranded with no oars. True to character he drank his Foster's out on the water soaking up the sun while waiting for the wind to pick up or be pulled into shore by a passing fellow sailor. As he tells it, he realized after an hour or so that he wasn't going to make it to shore by waiting, I think he got thirsty for another beer...so he dove in, put the rope from the boat in his mouth and started swimming to shore. Of course he did...what else would Ted do but swim into shore while half in the bag dragging his boat behind him in his teeth.

Another favourite Ted story has to do with him ignoring police directives out on the water. When there are events happening on or near the lake all sailing clubs are informed of any restrictions for their own safety...makes sense, during the air show maybe you shouldn't be idling by with your 35 foot mast as a jump harrier skims the surface of the lake at 25 feet...just saying. By the same reasoning, perhaps sailing too near to a barge shooting off fireworks during a large Canada Day display wouldn't be a good plan...what with the fire and all. On this night, we the cooks were invited to join the commodore on his big boat for a night sail to get a great vantage of the fireworks being set off. A nice and quiet sail with a couple of beers and a few people around to enjoy the show with. Quiet that is until the police boat patrolling the area dashed past us at a high speed with sirens going, heading for a barge. Hmmmm, what's going on? Is that a boat near the barge? Aren't boats supposed to stay from the barge? Seems that Ted was buzzing the barge, literally buzzing the barge and from what was reported to us later, the barge captain had himself radioed in an emergency call because he thought they were in danger. Only if they smelled his breath would one be in danger from Ted and his daring "Raid on Entebbe" The police were not amused but oddly Ted was never charged with anything, fools and drunks I guess. The commodore and guests were laughing all the way back to our mooring with another Ted story to save for the campfire.

I sometimes catch myself thinking about those two years and the cast of characters we met, how many of them are still alive? How many stories have they shared about the crazy cooks that ran the catering for that club? Do the people involved recall the time I jumped into a crash boat to help with some over turned sailing school boats, in my chef whites, pulling out of the freezing water some very scared and exhausted kids. Or that year end staff party that ended up with all but one getting thrown into the lake? Wanna take a guess which one wasn't? Me, in case you were wondering...if I don't want something to happen to me it usually is impossible to do that something to me. Four guys couldn't put me in that cesspool of a lake....hmmmmmm, memories.

Ciao
D