Personal Injury Law

Boating and operating while intoxicated in Iowa.

By Steve Lombardi

Today is the birthday for my older sister and brother. They are twins. Not identical but nevertheless twins. I think my sister is the older one. She certainly acts older. She lives next door to our mother, Dolly. In honor their birthday let's talk about common sense. Iowa is considering lowering the legal limit of alcohol for the crime of operating while under the influence while boating. So what is it about drinking and boating in Iowa? Why do the two seem to go hand-in-hand? And what would Dolly say to those who mix the two?

What is it about boating and booze? Why on Iowa lakes do the two seem to go together? I'm not picking on Iowa but living here it is the turf where I practice law. I've seen more of the same at the Lake of the Ozarks and lakes in Minnesota; so when it comes to boating and booze Iowa isn't alone.

I've wondered why there are differences from fresh lake boating and those boating on salt water. Today's post is just about my own experiences and why I see there is a difference. You may agree and then again you may not agree. That is your right. So here is my perspective about what Iowa law makers should think about when they consider lowering the blood alcohol limit for boat operators.

I grew up a New Englander (pronouced Na-Engleda) from a small town named Bristol, Rhode Island. Bristol is right on Bristol Harbor and is a part of Narragansett Bay. Its 20 minutes from Newport where America's Cup races were an annual event. Throughout the area many workers earn a living either on the water or in building something that is used on the water. When you grow up around the water's edge you learn about it early in life and with the experiences of youth a respect for the water develops. The water created side jobs for us. We earned a few bucks digging quahogs, clams and cleaning up boat hulls. From scraping barnacles off of boat hulls, to painting water lines and lower hulls to trying, unsuccessfully I might add, to pulling a bull rake, there were many ways to earn side money as a teenager. My brother Charlie and I would fish off of the Elks pier for flats and blues when they ran. Sitting for hours on the dock at the end of Constitution Street where it intersects with Thames, we'd while away the hours studying what works and what didn't. My mother, even though she viewed dirt as the ultimate enemy, relished the idea of showing us how to bait a hook and clean the fish. Hands can be washed, she'd tell us. Being a single mother of five she derived great pleasure in wrapping the cleaned fish in cellophane and then a layer of "tin foil" to keep them from freezer burn. Even then I could understand her joy in us catching a bucket full of flats. And when the work was done the water served as youthful entertainment.

Setting up camp on Hog Island while eating Dunkin Donuts and drinking "regular coffee" we enjoyed the water's edge for a night away from home. I learned to water ski white caps on the back of a 15 horse powered Evinrude, simply because I was the smallest and lightest of the group that hung around at the end of Fales Road. The daily tide schedule was in many respects more important than the time of day or the weather report. "Hey when is low tide today?" you'd hear someone ask. Of course that question immediately indicated their out-of-towner status. All good Rhode Islanders wake up already knowing the tidal shifts. It's part of a New England baby's DNA. I loved the moon tides and how far up and out the water would come and go. The pull of a full moon causes significant changes in the tides and the havoc it can wreak almost seemed like an adventure. And if during a moon tied there was a "Nor'easter blowin in" the size and power of the waves was incredible to watch. We would watch with awe as every huge wave of water rhythmically slammed against the Burton Street Wall; the water coming up and over the wall soaking Hope Street and whatever unsuspecting motorist that drove by at just that instant. My saying I was heading down to the water during one of these brought judgment from Dolly. She'd judge with a simple question, "What are you stupid?" Oh if she only knew the half of it.

If during one of our moon tide sojourns a boat came lose from its mooring John Silvia and I might get to save it from destruction or watch as it beached itself. Normally they were too large to save so you'd get to watch it slammed repeated into rocks or a dock. The power of the sea is enormous and can be terribly frightful to experience. Standing on a flying bridge heading from Point Judith to Block Island, the trough of a wave can be so low that you temporarily lose sight of a boat on the other side of the wave. If that doesn't wake you up to the reality of how serious boating can be then watching a storm approach with a wall of water dark as night should. For all of its pleasures boating and the water's edge can be dangerous. So why do boat operators on lakes feel so at ease mixing boats and booze? You got me. Dolly might have something to say about it all. Even though she doesn't drink, has probably never boated and now lives in Florida, she might still have an opinion on the subject. I venture to guess that Dolly would ask, "Are you stupid?"

Dolly would not be pleased. But as a gift for my older brother here is video from Sideways titled "Friggin Merlot"; and for my sister my favorite scene from the same movie. It's titled "Getting Acquainted".

Full post as published by Des Moines Personal Injury Lawyer on May 06, 2008 (boomark / email).