27 seconds...

Last Sunday my parents were in town to help my brother move into his dorm so we headed to the lake early that morning to make some waves. The water was crazy smooth and we were one of very few boats on the water. I skiied. Then I kicked off one ski and slalomed. And fell. And tried again. And again. And fell. Our cousins soon joined us with their boat and my brother was inspired to try out their wakeboard. I personally am scared to death of having my feet connected (and incredibly uncoordinated when they are). Believe me, my attempt at snowboarding was a disaster. He made it look easy, getting up within the first few tries. My cousin coerced me into starting in the water with only one ski. I've tried before and only succeeded in ripping my arms from their sockets. This time took about eight tries until I popped up and skiied like a pro. Okay, well a pro that goes really slow and barely makes it over the wake. But still, it was a first and I was happy. Thirty minutes later I was jumping in the water putting on the wakeboard. It was going to be a rough crash and burn. Three tries later I was up. Cake. Looks like it's time for a new water toy.

The whole point of that introduction, besides documenting my eventful morning, was to lead into a very interesting experience we encountered later that afternoon. We had heard about a marina that bragged a "27 second cheeseburger." Personally, I'm not sure that should be the main selling point. We pulled up to the dock and two incredibly friendly (ha) ladies tied up the boats. You would think if your job was to be on the lake all day, reading magazines, selling outrageously priced fuel and occasionally serving happy boaters, your job could not possibly be too painful. As witnessed by their customer service, I must be mistaken. None-the-less and as promised the older grump plopped down a ball of raw hamburger and in no time a cooked burger appeared. I will never eat there again. Ever.