George was a pirate, but he wasn’t a very good pirate.
Winds fill your sails, but they can also blow you off course.
Or, in George’s case, into the rocks.
George crawled from the wreckage, shouldered his duffel bag, and walked ashore.
“Where am I?” George asked the couple laying on the beach.
“Fort Lauderdale,” they said. “The hotel is right over there.”
A uniformed man held the door and welcomed George to the Ritz-Carlton.
“How long will you be staying?” asked the concierge.
“Oh, as long as it takes to empty your safe into my bag,” said George, grinning.