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Fear and Loathing on Jeff Greene's Party Boat

Digging for news this morning but thought I would share this from the Juice blog. It's a firsthand account from a woman who worked on U.S. Senate candidate Jeff Greene's yacht, and it's the story of the day. ere's an excerpt: ---------------------------------------------------------------------   The real partying started in Sag Harbor, New York. That's when a deckhand and...
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Digging for news this morning but thought I would share this from the Juice blog. It's a firsthand account from a woman who worked on U.S. Senate candidate Jeff Greene's yacht, and it's the story of the day.

ere's an excerpt:

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The real partying started in Sag Harbor, New York. That's when a deckhand and Mr. Greene would go to a place named the Sex Castle and come back with new women almost daily. My journal entry on August 14, 2006, begins:

"Last night's party was interesting to say the least! I think I've seen more tits in one night to last a lifetime! Naked, drunken people everywhere! Freakin' weirdos, bumping and grinding all over the place. Russell Simmons was onboard too. Nice, quiet guy actually."

Shortly after that party, I found four lines of cocaine in Mr. Greene's stateroom bathroom marble vanity. Frustrated, I blew as hard as 

I could figuring no one would miss it.

Day after day of constant partying wore on me and on the crew. On August 21, the chief steward quit after one week. The chef left the next day, and I gave my notice. On August 23, the captain got fired, and they gave the job to a captain who had run two boats aground. My journal entry from that day describes one of them:

"Last night, he was picking up Russell Simmons on the Tender -- driving 50 mph, he runs into a sandbar and gets stuck! We're screwed!"
 
On August 24, my journal entry explains the state of things: "I can't even explain how f'd up this ride has become. Mr. Greene constantly berates me, makes me feel incompetent & unworthy of breathing the same air as him. But Beverly (my yacht recruiter) called me & tells me, he likes me and what will it take to keep me on until after Labor Day?"

Greene offered me more money to stay on through Labor Day. So I changed my mind (or lost it) and decided to stay on ten more days. It was more of the same.
 
"I don't even know what to write about anymore," I wrote on August 27. "I'm mentally and physically drained. It's raining and cold today. These f er's always show up, rain or shine, as long as there's booze and food. Mr. Greene didn't go to bed until 9 this morning."

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