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Dropping Anchors, Raising Glasses
Alexis Katsarelis and fiance Omar Balkissoon of Sterling enjoy the night.
(Photos By Rich Lipski -- The Washington Post)
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Brotherhood might be important, but Martelli's main concern that night appeared to have been more related to the sisterhood, in particular the gaggle of women who crowded onto his craft. At one point, he stood on the promenade, shirtless, trying to attract more to his party.
"Hello, girls. Can we offer you a beer?" he asked, spotting a trio of young women wearing tank tops and carrying small purses.
They stopped, each introducing herself as "Jessica." He kissed their hands, furnished them with beers, and they went off to join the crowd on his boat, which included a slew of buddies who came to meet up with him.
Martelli smiled. "I'm an enabler," he said.
The boat owners form a predominantly male crowd, but there are a few women behind the wheels, including Kimberly Newman, 44, a quality assurance director from Alexandria. When she broke up with her boyfriend a couple of years ago, Newman said, she found herself boat-less. So she went out and bought the Livin' Nauti, a 47-foot yacht that is larger than most of the crafts that regularly pull up to the harbor.
"I didn't want to go through those little boats," she sniffed.
Yes, size matters at Washington Harbour, at least along the sea wall.
Alan McGillis, owner of a computer services company, sat on his 46-foot yacht, christened Charis by the previous owner in appreciation of a Playboy model, and said that all boaters are equal on the water.
Then he contradicted that, suggesting that he wasn't much interested in the small-boat crowd.
"If you have a 46-footer, you don't hang out with the 10-footers," he said, standing below deck in his galley, as a few friends lounged on deck.
He described the scene as a "second fraternity house in life; it brings you into an elite."
"It's a babe magnet," he said of his yacht. "The bigger the boat, the more people cling to you."
As he spoke, the clock ticked toward midnight. On the promenade, a man sang Bob Dylan songs, and the crowds mingled at the cafes. The three Jessicas emerged from Martelli's boat, giggling as they headed for home. Tarzan puffed on a cigar.
Harold Seigel sipped a beer outside Nick's Riverside Grille, appearing as though he had no intention of climbing back aboard Good Vibrations and leaving anytime soon. There would be no molars to check and no root canals to perform for at least another two days.
"It's exciting," he said of his little world on the water, his eyes following an attractive woman as she made her way toward the bar.
