SMOKE ON THE WATER

Te Ozarks get a bad rap, and that ignominy extends to the water. Ozark, Netflix’s drama series, drops the “s” and follows Marty Byrde, a financial planner, and his family to the region. It doesn’t take long before they encounter waterborne thugs moving heroin in hollowed-out Bibles. Sure, it’s fiction. But as the saying goes, sometimes the truth is stranger. Each summer, a riot of thrill-seekers and revelers descend on landlocked Missouri, turning the lake into a high-performance watering hole. Clothing is optional. Alcohol flows freely. Boat throttles are typically placed in the downright position as modern-day explorers with tattoos, lowered inhibitions and adrenaline coursing through their veins move from one crowded bar to the next. Mayhem sometimes ensues. Collisions happen, both with fists and fiberglass. For that reason, infamy seems to wrap itself around this place like a dirty glove.

Or at least that’s what most people have come to believe, myself included. You see, as someone born and raised in the Northeast, I had never been.

Each June, for the last five years, entrants have come from all over the country to attend the Cigarette Owners Rendezvous. Put on by Performance Boat Center, the fun run has been steadily growing in size. And why not? The Lake of the Ozarks’ coves and inlets provide plenty of places to explore or zip right on by. A 30-mph speed limit is only imposed at night. Unsanctioned races have seen speed demons blow well past 200 mph across these waters. But I had some doubts. How true could this misbegotten reputation bestowed