The Night of the Devil Page 2
Spectator — September 2002
By Tom Fexas
The Night of the Devil
|Part 2: Down the Tubes|
I tiptoe past the line of wooly heads hanging over the fence and make my way to the cottage. I knock on the door, and Mrs. Client opens it. The interior is dimly lit, and there's soft music playing in the background. "Where is Nathan?" I ask. She says he is upstairs in bed, passed out in a drunken stupor as usual. Well, I think, men are usually not too interested in the details of the interior anyhow, so we sit down. I start to pull some drawings out of my briefcase. But before I do, she says that she is not really interested in the plans just now, as she slides closer to me on the sofa. I jump up, finally realizing exactly what is going on here. With a lame excuse like, "I need to have the hotel laundry clean and starch my skivvies for my trip back to Florida tomorrow" or some such foolishness, I rapidly make for the door. Although at the time I was single and carefree, fooling around with clients' wives was not on my list of favorite things to do. I trot down the lane--this time never hesitating at the row of devil heads--jump into my car, and peel out on the gravel.
The boat was in Florida waters for a number of years, and every time I saw her, all I could think of were those damned devil heads hanging over the fence. Such is life for the hard-working yacht designer. In addition to drawing pretty pictures of boats, engineering the structure, and overseeing construction, he must also deal with life's little foibles. It is a wonderful profession that I would recommend to any masochist.
Tom Fexas is a marine engineer and a designer of powerboats. His Web site is www.tomfexas.com.
This article originally appeared in the January 2003 issue of Power & Motoryacht magazine.