On location in London #3

I'm covering the 2012 Summer Olympic Games from July 27 through Aug. 12 in London for the Virgin Islands Daily News. These notebook items and photos were published in the print edition.

Coming up short at Wembley

I was with my friend Scott Hensley, a former USVI swimmer, on Wednesday and we decided to make a quick trip out to historic Wembley Stadium for a football – eh, American soccer match – between South Korea and Gabon.

Where is Gabon? Great question. I still don't really know because we spent most of the afternoon trying to explain to other spectators where the USVI is located.

Scott's friend with their tickets was running late on the tube so we wanted to grab an adult beverage and wait for the beginning of the match. The only place open for miles around was the T.G.I. Friday's across the street.

I am embarrassed to say this but yes, we went inside.

The match started and we asked the bartender to turn on the television so we could at least watch the action. No go, the bartender said. They were not allowed to turn off the U.S. corporate restaurant jargon that ran on a continuous loop. They didn't even have a cable hook-up, he said.

“You're trying to tell me that we're in the shadows of Wembley Stadium, one of the most prolific sports venues in the world, and we can't watch any sports?” Scott asked.

He wanted to leave immediately. I figured we could walk outside and at least listen to the roar of the 90,000 people who had packed the stadium to watch the Gabonese. Or was it the Gabonites? Gabalonians?

The match ended in a uneventful 0-0 draw and we didn't even get a chance to order their world-famous potato skins. For shame.

Lawaetz soaking up his final Games

U.S. Virgin Islands Olympic Committee president Hans Lawaetz and I spoke briefly on the phone on Thursday. Strangely enough, we have not crossed paths in London yet.

“Where are you?” he asked. “Russia?”

While I have been hiding out with the Ruskies, Lawaetz has been on an Olympic farewell tour. The long-time USVIOC president announced he will not seek re-election in September so the 2012 Summer Olympics will be his seventh and final Games after more than 40 years of service.

But just like he did in Guadalajara, Mexico for the 2011 Pan American Games – and countless other international events I can only assume – Lawaetz has been on the move.

Aside from showing his unwavering support for the USVI athletes, Lawaetz has already seen tennis star Roger Federer in action and visited with St. Thomas native Megan Hodge and the U.S. women's volleyball team when it took on Brazil.

He also made the 3 1/2-hour drive to Weymouth to support the USVI sailors on Wednesday and put in a stint at the equestrian event on Thursday.

What was on tap for Thursday night?

“Michael Phelps, of course,” said Lawaetz, was the first president of the USVI Swimming Federation. “Track and field starts tomorrow. You better be ready.”

At first, I thought the 75-year-old Crucian was challenging me to a race. I've been training with the Russians so I'm ready for you.

Bring it on, Hans.

Boating adventures and booze

I don't know why everyone loves that movie, Almost Famous, but do you remember when the main character wrote the lead to his story in Rolling Stone magazine? Something about flying over the ocean and "we're all going to die..."

Well I'll do you one better, chump.

Two weeks ago, I was with some friends on a boat and we were powering our way from St. John back to St. Thomas late at night. The ride usually takes no longer than 15 minutes. During the excursion, the boat shut off completely. Our drunken giggles and the sound of the whaling engines were suddenly replaced by severe silence as we started to drift in complete darkness.

The boat doesn't have a gas meter so we all thought we ran out. Perhaps the battery? It didn't really matter because we were in a pickle and the situation looked grim.

As everyone retreated to their cell phones and attempted to call boating heroes at 2:18 a.m. on a Sunday morning, I took off my shirt and stared at both shores. Which one was closer, St. John or Rock City? Could I swim it and be the hero? If I did make it to shore, then what?

All these questions annoyed me so I did what any rational person would do in such a situation.

I popped a bottle of champagne.

"I've been in a lot worse predicaments than this, folks," I said in attempt to chill everyone out.

For some, it really didn't matter. My girlfriend and another girl we were with had already hunkered down in the front of the boat. It looked like they were going to sleep this one off and wait for the sun to rise in a few hours.

So you can imagine their reactions when they heard the steady stream of urine hitting the warm Caribbean Sea in the middle of the night. They were really irked when they heard the cork pop off the champagne bottle.

I thought it was a great idea. It was a minor celebration to mark the end of a great adventure.

It all started about 10 hours earlier when Brianna and I met Scottie H and Benji at the marina, where they keep their boat. It was raining when we arrived and we just sat in our cars and waited for the storm clouds to push off.

"Shit will burn off," Brianna said while mocking one of my favorite island quotes.

For some odd reason, Moose and Marcus bought about two cases of Schaefer beer. You know, the good stuff. The cans are only 10 oz. so that justified the need to crush at least 20 of them before we got to shores of Cruz Bay.

Once there, we picked up a few more beach beauties and went to a nearby bay for some scurfing. What is scurfing you ask? Well if you didn't waste your time clicking on that link, it's basically like water skiing but using a surf board. We did that for about an hour and a half. Maybe that's how we ran out of gas?

After the scurf action, we decided to go back to shore and visit the fine establishment otherwise known as Woody's. We had already crushed our Schaefer supplies, mixed vitamin water with Cruzan dark and I guess we were all had the happy hour shakes. What turned into "one shot and we'll move on" turned into a shot frenzy and a $362 booze tab.

If there was a break in the sloppy conversation, Scottie H would lock eyes with you and tap his wrist with two fingers. In most civilized cultures, this gesture usually references what the current time is. To Scottie ("Boating!" was his war cry), this meant it was time for another round of shots. Though I didn't take part in each of them, Jager bombs, Cruzan 151, Washington Apples and Statue Of Liberty shots -- the one where you light your finger on fire -- were all consumed.

It's during those critical hours that follow when I want to hire a stenographer. For obvious reasons.

I do recall wandering into a sophisticated bar called Castaways where Scottie H grabbed the soda gun that servers use to refill drinks and shooting different liquids at innocent bystanders.

Later on, there was a debate with a cute bartender named Ricki. No, not about another gaudy bar tab. The bartender grew up on St. Croix, as did Scottie, so a little trash talk about their rival high schools started up. Since I cover high school sports for the Daily News, I felt I had some knowledge on the subject and decided to chime in on the discussion.

What did I say? I'm not too sure. I don't really remember. All available stenographers, please send me your resume.

At some point, I remember watching the Mayweather-Ortiz fight at another bar. I had a great conversation with a Islander who was a huge boxing fan. I told him that I wrote the article about the USVI professional boxers earlier in the week and he hugged me. Then he bought me a shot. It was a great symbol of respect shared among two sports fans.

The blurry St. John experience started to fade when we got back on the boat in Cruz Bay and warmed up the engines for a return trip.

Later on, when the engine went dead, the champagne was drank and after Moose proved his vast knowledge of 90's alternative music via Pandora to me, a savior joined the party.

Our friend Emily, who was also on board, somehow got in contact with a friend of a co-worker of a former roommate of a dental assistant and he rolled up to our drifting boat on a dingy with a 5-gallon drum of gas. We offered him money and he passed and he wouldn't even take a sip of champagne. A true American hero who did not seek any praise.

After a few pleasantries, he set off back to St. John and we were able to start the engine again. Most people would go straight home after such an ordeal and be happy they didn't have to spend the night out at sea.

What did we do? We got to shore and stopped into Caribbean Saloon for one. Make that many.

It was just another typical Saturday in paradise.