Bartending on a Yacht

An example of a 150 ft yacht! (Not my pic) 

Back in the 90's, I used to cater in Center City Philly for an upper end private catering company run by my sister's friend Jane. I was very fortunate to work with a group of fun people at some of the swankiest penthouses and luxurious homes in Society Hill, Rittenhouse Square, the Art Museum neighborhood, and the Mainline in Philly.

Most of the clients were extremely gracious. You had a group of plucky 20 something waiters or bartenders working our hardest for Jane because she also became a very good friend. We wanted to see her succeed. My sister got me the "in" working for Jane and I worked for her for a good 8 years off and on.

Many of these catering gigs stand out. They either involved crazy parties with drunk wealthy people, Philadelphia celebrities, or over the top parties that only that type of money can buy. One stood out in particular. I was to bartend on a large yacht moored in the Delaware River just north of the Ben Franklin Bridge.

Of course, names are changed to protect the obscenely wealthy. LOL. One week in the late 90's, Jane  called me to see if I wanted to bartend with my friend Monica at a swank cocktail party on a yacht. I figured it was on the famous Philly sightseeing boat, the Spirit of Philadelphia. Jane said no, this one will be on a 150 foot yacht called the "Evening Star" owned by the 80 year old Philly business man who owns an extremely successful auto transmission and repair chain. (Let's call him Big Daddy).

I arrived at the marina and asked a dockworker which boat was the Evening Star. He laughed and pointed to the end of the dock. "The biggest one there is kiddo!" I looked over and gulped. Before me was a 150 foot long yacht, the largest I had ever seen. WOW, I thought, so this is what money can buy.

I walked up the gang-way and was greeted by Andrea, a smartly dressed woman with an awesome accent who crisply directed me to quickly come on board. I later learned that Andrea was from South Africa (hence, her exotic accent) and was the Chief Stew (steward) which meant if she said jump, I would ask how high?

I was set up in the main salon at the bar and told to direct questions to either herself or the chef in the back galley kitchen. It was an extremely modern and luxurious space to work in. The only odd thing about the interior I disliked was the ugly white shag carpeting all over the place. It was 90's modern and chic with a throwback to the 70's.

Soon my friend Monica showed up and began helping out Andrea and her crew get ready for the cocktail party while I just stood around being nosey and poking into everything. I found out that everything on a yacht or boat has it's place and everything is usually in a cabinet which has a latch on it. It throws you off as you're used to just opening cabinets and drawers freely without having to 'unlatch' them.

I was also directed and then further scolded on where and where not to go on the yacht. Andrea said "You stand there, serve drinks, go NO WHERE ELSE. You aren't being paid to wander." Okaaaaay. I get it, I was the hired help. I'd done that many times before and it was just part of the gig.

I did wander off to the powder room for a bit. I asked Andrea where the 'head' was thinking that since I was on a big boat, I might as well use the lingo. She quickly admonished me, "EUW! It's not the 'head'! Where do you think you are, a Navy battleship???" I was told to NOT use the guest powder room and I could use the crew bathroom down those steps, make a right, and it's on the 3rd door down. Of course I got lost. But I was in the crew area so there wasn't anything exciting to see.

After a bit, the guests arrived and I was soon serving martinis, Manhattans, and glasses of Champagne. Big Daddy soon came up from the main stateroom. He was a short statured man dressed in your faux "captain" sailing suit. That's the only way I could describe it. It was ridiculous. He was wearing yachting clothes which probably only get worn once a year. You could tell he was in his 80s but he looked oddly younger. Like "major work done" younger. His skin was pulled back tight, almost glisteningly shiny from peels but overtly tanned, had plugs, and wore the largest pair of sunglasses (indoors) that I had ever seen. Think the male version of Jackie-O shades. It was rather cartoonish.

We didn't have much conversation. Again, I was the help. But he was a very gracious man. His wife, Lana, then strode in. She stood a good 1 1/2 feet taller than him, at least 6 ft tall. Gorgeous in a long flowing navy blue wrap dress, and looked at least thirty years younger than he. She may have been even younger. I later found out that this was not his first wife. IMAGINE THAT.

She was lovely, tanned and tight faced. Luckily that garish lip and cheek plumping was not yet in Vogue with the wealthy. She had work done but didn't look too fake ... but still looked like a tanned Kabuki doll. Diamonds were dripping from her ears, dripping into her decolletage, and hanging off her wrists. She reminded me of the 70's/80's actress Leslie Ann Warren ... except with large chic-let teeth. I could've been on an episode of the Love Boat! Where was Gopher, Isaac, or Doc when I needed them?

The cocktail cruise got underway and all we did was sail up and down the Delaware several times. BORING. No high seas for me! I later learned that Big Daddy has always been extremely seasick and only had the yacht because it was the wealthy thing to do. They would have the yacht sailed down to the islands and then FLY their plane down to meet the yacht! They would stay overnight on the yacht, host parties, but never go out further than the harbor. Then, they'd FLY to the next island and the yacht would sail to meet them! YES, it was that ridiculous!

So while bartending, the boat went a rockin' as someone's speedboat zoomed past and I spilled a glass of red wine on that damn shag carpeting. Of course it had to be white shag carpeting. I poured an entire small bottle of club soda on it and mopped it up. Didn't help. I poured a full glass of white wine on it to counter act the red wine. That didn't help. WHERE WAS THE BLEACH? No bleach. So I did what any other nervous 20 something bartender would do to preserve my tip, I moved a large potted plant over the red spot.

The rest of the cocktail party went off pretty much without a hitch and Lana ended up getting pretty sloshed. She was a lot of fun though. I called her Lana because she reminded me of that character by the same name on the 70's sitcom "Three's Company". She was the flirty glamorous party girl-neighbor of Jack, Chrissy, and Janet. The name Lana fit her to a "T"!

At the end of the night, Lana was passing by the bar thanking me and my coworker Monica and exclaimed, "Oh DAMN!" as she looked down at her hand. She called for Big Daddy. He came wandering over and asked what was the matter? She stated her cocktail ring had lost one of it's diamonds again!

We all looked agog at her hand. Her 10 carat solitaire diamond cocktail ring was further surrounded by many one carat diamonds. This ring looked like it weight 5 pounds. One of them had fallen out ... apparently again!

Big Daddy was nonplussed and simply said, "Don't worry my Sweets, let it go and we'll replace it." and shuffled off with his younger glamorous in tow. She turned back to us and said laughingly "It happens all the time!" She blew us a kiss and waved good bye. They retired to their stateroom.

Monica and I looked at each other with our eyes widening. We immediately dove down to our hands and knees knocking our heads in the process. We never found that huge diamond in that damn white shag carpet as hard as we looked!

To this day I search white shag carpets for diamonds.

And yes, I did fess up to the red wine stain. I just didn't want to ruin the party at that time. AND we still got an awesome tip!