"Unfortunately, yes." I didn't say it out loud in those exact words. What I said was, "She's from my HOA."
The dispatcher paused again, and I wondered if he was imagining the exact species of madness that comes out of a homeowners association. Whatever he pictured, the real version was worse.
"We are dispatching a patrol boat to your location," he finally said. "ETA 5 minutes. Please remain on shore and maintain visual contact."
"I'll be here."
I hung up. Jim let out a long whistle. "5 minutes, bro. It's your lucky day."
"It doesn't feel lucky," I muttered.
Karen was now standing on the bow, one hand raised like she was Leonardo DiCaprio in Titanic. Except instead of grace and romance, she radiated the unfiltered chaos of a woman who had never in her life been told no and clearly didn't intend to start today. Her friends cheered as she swayed dramatically, completely unaware she was seconds away from becoming a maritime cautionary tale.
From shore, I could hear snippets of her shouting, "This is amazing! Hooray! Perks, ladies, we deserve this!"
Deserve. That word coming from Karen always felt like nails on a chalkboard.
Meanwhile, the scene around us looked like a tourist attraction. More boaters slowed, watching Karen zip around like a caffeinated pelican.
Someone shouted, "Lady, learn to steer!"
Another yelled, "Wrong side, wrong side!"
A fisherman in a tiny skiff paddled frantically out of her path, barely avoiding her wake. Karen's response? She blew him a kiss.
Jim groaned. "She's going to go viral for attempted manslaughter. She's going to get someone hurt."
"Yeah. Probably herself." I rubbed my forehead. This wasn't just embarrassing; it was dangerous. Seabreeze wasn't built for this kind of rough handling, and Karen was jerking the wheel like she thought the boat functioned on vibes alone.
I saw her swing too hard into a turn, and her entire passenger group lurched, grabbing the railings to keep from tumbling overboard. One of the women dropped her drink and shrieked, "Karen, watch it!"
Karen laughed, "Relax. I watched a YouTube tutorial."
Jim choked. "Bro, she watched a tutorial. You are in danger."
No kidding. Then, in the distance, I spotted the Coast Guard patrol boat approaching: sleek, fast, controlled by people who knew what the hell they were doing. They cut through the water with purpose, and for the first time that morning, the knot in my stomach loosened.
"They're here," I said quietly.
The patrol boat slowed as it neared Seabreeze, and one of the officers lifted a bullhorn: "Vessel Seabreeze, reduce speed and prepare to be boarded."
Karen froze. Her friends froze. Even from shore, I could see the exact moment her confidence cracked.
She grabbed the wheel and shouted back, "Excuse me, we're on a private cruise!"
The officer repeated the command, clearer this time: "Ma'am, reduce speed immediately."
Jim started laughing like a lunatic. "Oh my god, she thinks she's above the Coast Guard."
I watched as the patrol boat matched Karen's speed, pulling alongside her. Karen's arms flailed in dramatic disbelief. She shouted something, gesturing wildly toward shore, toward me, of all people, as if I could rescue her from the problem she created.
Her friends finally started freaking out. "Karen, slow down! Karen, oh my god, they're serious! Karen, turn the boat!"
Karen did not turn the boat. In fact, she did the opposite. She panicked, yanked the wheel, and hit the throttle.
Seabreeze lurched forward with a roar.
The Coast Guard officer on the bullhorn shouted, "Ma'am, reduce speed immediately!"
Karen screamed back, "I'm in control!"
She was not in control. She drove straight through a no-wake zone, leaving a foamy explosion behind her. A pelican fled. A kayaker almost capsized.
Jim nearly dropped his phone from laughing too hard. "Bro, she's going to get a felony," he wheezed.
I didn't laugh. I couldn't. My boat was bouncing over waves it was never supposed to hit at that speed. My heart climbed into my throat.
Then it happened.
Karen looked behind her for half a second, just long enough to lose track of where she was going. Seabreeze slammed into a buoy with a metallic crunch that echoed across the marina.
Karen pitched forward, screaming. Her friends tumbled onto the deck. The boat rocked violently before settling into a painful tilt.
I felt sick.
The Coast Guard acted instantly. Within seconds, they boarded the boat, shut off the engine, and pulled Karen away from the controls.
And she lost her mind. "Let go of me!" she shrieked. "I am borrowing this boat! I have rights!"
One officer calmly handcuffed her.
Jim whispered, "You know what? Maybe this is my lucky day."
The officers helped Karen's friends up, making sure they were uninjured. Then one officer looked toward shore and called out, "Are you the owner?"
I raised my hand.
Karen whipped her head around, eyes full of betrayal, as if I had crashed my own boat into a buoy. "This is your fault!" she screamed. "Why would you call them?"
I stared at her. "Because you stole my boat, Karen."
"I borrowed it."
"You took it without permission."
"Well, I knew you'd say no."
Jim let out a choking laugh. "Legal mastermind right there."
Karen glared at him. "Shut up, Jim."