Annapolis -- Labradors, disposable cameras, a Chris Craft cruiser grinding a moored Boston Whaler, alternating heat and thunder for weather and Day-Glo bikini tops. It's all here near the Kunte Kinte, point-of-arrival commemorative marker at Ego Alley.
Officially, it's the Annapolis City Dock and it's a July weekend. The scrawny waterway -- maybe 60 feet wide, 300 feet long -- is called Ego Alley because there's not enough room for boaters to do anything but strut their crafts.
A faded-red powerboat, with a shirtless driver and a near-shirtless woman, enters Ego Alley with all the subtlety of a blimp with an attitude. The high performance boat passes the docked Stanley Norman, a working skipjack -- the oldest sailing vessels in North America. If they could, the two vessels would sneer at each other.
Powerboating vs. sailing: It's just that way in these waters. Powerboaters and sailors share the same bay but not much else. Their states of mind do not meet. They are two with the sea.
They fuss over issues of right-of-way and wake and pollution and noise and fossil fuel. Some powerboaters have zoomed through anchorages and even sailboat races. Some sailors have fired off middle-finger opinions at them and have applauded loudly when powerboaters cut their engines.
They call each other names. Powerboaters, with their six-figure boats and $200-a-day gas habits, are called "stink potters" by sailors because of the powerboats' noisy exhaust. Powerboaters call sailors "air bags," "rag toppers" or just "rags."
"There is a culture clash," says Harbormaster Rick Dahlgren at the Annapolis City Dock. Few formal complaints are filed with his office, but he hears plenty of carping on the marine radio between powerboaters and sailors. "They are polar opposites. They hang with their own kind."
If you haven't seen or heard them, the powerboats are sleek, open crafts that cut through the water at 50 mph to 100 mph. Of the 198,000 vessels registered and documented in Maryland, only "a couple thousand are high performance boats," according to Beth Kahr, director of the Marine Trade Association of Maryland.
Not all true 'Cigarettes'
These crafts often are generically called cigarette boats, but "Cigarette" is actually a brand name. No matter what you call them, they've been described as nautical Ferraris or simply vice boats -- from the "Miami Vice" television show that featured Don Johnson, powerboats, and Don Johnson on powerboats. The in-board engines on these boats can cost $100,000 alone.
Stereotypically, "the powerboater has a gold chain, a Bud or Miller in a Styrofoam holder. He has a buddy in the front seat and on the back, padded hatch cover, two women in bikinis," says Harbormaster Dahlgren.
What are the boats good for besides burning 120 gallons of fuel an hour? What do the boat owners get out of it?
"I guess they like the pure speed. That to me would be the only benefit," says Racing Editor Dave Gendell of Rags, an Annapolis-based sailing magazine. "I couldn't see it being fun for more than five minutes."
At Ego Alley, a white, true Cigarette boat sputters up to the dock. Jim Stonebrook, a 55-year-old retiree who has a summer home in Annapolis, waits on-board while his rider goes ashore to buy sunglasses. Jim is shirtless, barrel-chested and has a head like a tanned, cement block. His is a $170,000 boat. It goes fast.
"We top out at about 80 mph . . . highway speed, right?" he says, laughing in that way a man has when he's sitting on $170,000. He opens the engine hatch to show off two, 650-horsepower Chevy engines that could power a space shuttle.
A thrilling ride
His wife, Maggie, comes back with the sunglasses. They like getting where they're going in a hurry. Powerboating is a thrill, a skilled thrill, these boaters say. It's the ultimate boy and girl toy, Maggie says.
"It's even macho for the woman on board," says Maggie, who lets her husband do all the driving. "You got to be able to handle the ride. You can't be in the back saying 'slow down.' "
The Stonebrooks were married on a sailboat, but Maggie says they've had their most intimate moments aboard their powerboat. Besides, sailing is too much work.
"This is fast and easy," says Maggie, who adds that she tries to be nice to sailors. "Sailors are very snobbish. When you wave hello and they give you the finger, it's obvious."
Jim and Maggie agree to take on a passenger in their Cigarette boat. They ease out of Ego Alley and wait until they pass the buoy allowing boaters to exceed the 6 mph speed limit. The passenger is strongly urged to hold on to the hand rail fronting the passenger seat, which is a tall, so-called bolster seat. The driver and passenger stand in these chairs and brace themselves. Maggie sits in the back on the padded hatch cover.
Jim does something at the black bank of controls, and the boat reaches 65 mph. Maggie indeed does not ask Jim to slow down. The passenger thinks his skin will come off in one flying piece. All water is drained out of his eyes. The wind also makes his face wobbly. Internal organs shift in fear.
The boat "launches" out of the water and crashes down, slugging, beating the water. Jim is smiling. They have gone four miles in a heartbeat. They wave at sailors, who wave back. A powerboat blows by, and Jim blows it a kiss.
'Too noisy'
Returning to the dock, Jim trims the engine back at the buoy and asks if anyone wants a beer. Cruising back into Ego Alley, people gawk at Jim's boat. Well, not everybody. An old crabber is boxing his live catch aboard his trawler. "Too noisy," he's overheard muttering.
Two boats up from him, E. Y. Murphey from Drexel Hill, Pa., watches from his 20-foot sailboat that cost him $13,000. He has a list of grievances against powerboaters. For starters, sailboats under sail have the right of way, but some stink potters don't honor the rule, he says.
"They don't care about us. If you're the largest and the fastest, you get the right-of-way," he says.
He also resents powerboats that slap 4- to 6-foot wakes against him. Also, "there's something morally and ethically wrong about using that much petrol."
Emerging from the cabin, Alice Murphey says the reason for sailing is to enjoy the peace and quiet of the water. Sailors respond to the environment; powerboaters respond to the accelerator. It's a contrast in philosophy and in souls.
"It's like the difference between living in the suburbs and in downtown -- like being a 16-year-old and a 45-year-old," Alice says. They are both in their 40s.
Friendly natures
Despite the differences, powerboaters and sailors share some things. They both eagerly invite strangers aboard their boats, and they are both good company. "The common thread is that they love and respect the bay like we do," says Dave Gendell at Rags.
And both powerboaters and sailors make the "traditional march" through Ego Alley.
"I make sure I come through," says Morris Gocial, an accountant from outside Philadelphia. He and his wife, Sarita, are docked in Annapolis for the weekend. Their sailboat, a 42-foot Catalina named Midnight Blue, cost more than $120,000.
But he doesn't like sharing the space with powerboats. "What do I think of cigarette boats? Besides the fact they zoom too close, besides the fact they stink up the bay and the noise pollution? Is that enough? I'm just getting rolling," says Morris.
"Some of these hot dogs just like to see us bob up and down from their wake," Sarita says.
Don't hang together
Generally, you won't find powerboaters and sailors hanging together after hours. Powerboaters park their boats like cars at a bar or restaurant; sailors typically stay on board their boats.
"They're the only people I know who pull into a dock just to dump their garbage off," says powerboater Jim Stonebrook, who has surfaced at the Mai Kai after ducking into Ego Alley earlier in the day.
The Mai Kai on the South River just over the bridge from Annapolis and the Red Eye Dock Bar on Kent Island are hugely popular with the powerboating set. By late afternoon, the Mai Kai is jammed. The beer is tapping out and contestants for the "Bikini Madness" contest are exhibiting no stage fright.
Mai Kai's dock is loaded with high-performance boats that outnumber the sails. Amy Hanick, 24, loves her glossy Scarab -- a $100,000 powerboat she says her fiance bought her. She and her man, 28-year-old Tim Jarboe, like to bop over to Ocean City or wherever the mood and boat take them. Amy has no use for sailing.
"I don't like to have to work to move," she says.
"Sailors hate us but we don't hate them," Tim says. "It's just because we're loud and kick out a wake," Amy says. Both of the Olney residents are at a picnic table at the Mai Kai's outdoor deck, with a bird's-eye view of the bikini contest. People are laughing and buying and spilling drinks, and there isn't a sailor in sight.
Sailors avoid fun
"They don't like having fun," someone says.
East of Mai Kai's dock, other slips hold sailboats. Missing out on the bikini contest is Milton Erickson, a 51-year-old Florida resident who will be here until October. He's with his 50-foot sailboat, Sea Star. He's noticed the Scarabs and Harleys parked at the Mai Kai -- "all those plastic body parts," he calls them.
"No, it's not exactly the sailor's crowd."
Milton is told that powerboaters say sailors don't have any fun. "That's insane," he says, stepping down into his galley and captain's quarters. "Nothing compares to sailing if you love the water," Milton says.
The bottom line, says this sailor, is that the differences between the rags and the stink potters are overblown.
"But it gives people something to talk about."