A Houseboat Venture With That Sinking Feeling

The city's concerns about houseboats seem less about class wars and more about bureaucratic issues: Do they have sprinklers and meet zoning codes? RVs and trailers aren't allowed in residential parts of the city, so why should houseboats be? Should the things be licensed as B&Bs if they're going to be rented out?

And then, of course, there are the "environmental" matters.

This is the point that transforms Smith, the salesman, into Smith, the problem-solver. This is what people who love boats love to do. He has plans to replace the boat's holding tanks with solar-powered toilets with a waste incinerator, or maybe a composting system that after a while would simply leave a bit of dried fertilizer.

But for now, the bathroom issue is still a bit of a problem. The city harbor master pumps out boat commodes for $8. This generally assumes, however, that a boat's tank holds 20 to 30 gallons. Try 300 gallons and, suddenly, emptying the loo becomes more of a task.

All of this is supremely frustrating to Smith and Dillard, who see the problems as minor and rectifiable. Meanwhile, their two model houseboats are sitting at dock while they wait for the city powers-that-be to return from vacation to figure out what to do. They have at least five buyers-in-waiting, they say, and calls every day from people responding to their Web site's pitch:

"Waterfront Property. Always a good investment. Here's a new way to enjoy it! Your Houseboat, is your new waterfront property -- but you have no real estate taxes, and it moves when you want to take it with you!"

For the moment, Smith is moving his business into the Annapolitan model while his offices are under construction. There's a desk on the houseboat, and it looks out over the harbor. It's calm and orderly there, and he can get some work done in peace.

It's also, he says, just temporary.