My Big Fish Story

   

My friend Carol was generous enough to invite us to spend time this winter at her house on Summerland Key, Florida.  Being from NJ, oceans and waves go hand in hand, so the first time I visited the Keys, I was surprised that there were no waves.  It almost seemed like her house was lakefront instead of ocean front.  The water was calm and there was a slight breeze.  

I’m going to take a short kayak ride” Carol said, “why don’t you come with me.” I shot her a doubtful look.  I’ve never kayaked before.   I peered over the edge of the dock trying to gauge the distance down to the kayak that was waiting for a rider.  The idea of maneuvering myself down the ladder of her dock and stepping onto the floating kayak was laying the groundwork for an anxiety attack. I slowly sucked in some air and insisted that Carol go first. I wanted to watch how she boarded the boat that was bobbing in the water below.  But I also wanted her down there ahead of me so she can help when I fell out of mine. There was no doubt in my mind that even if I managed to get into the boat, I was  going to be in the water at some point, and there wasn’t a snowball’s chance in hell that I’d be able to get back on in deep water!  I watched as Carol climbed down the ladder and boarded her kayak without a problem.  She paddled out of the way and pushed the second kayak into position and I started my decent. 

As I reached the bottom rung of the ladder, I had to point my right foot and drag the kayak closer with my toes.  I took a deep breath and started to lower myself down toward the seat while still trying to cling to the ladder.  “You know, Carol, this would be much easier if you added another rung or two to the ladder”.  With that said, my hand slipped off the bottom rung and I plopped onto the seat.  The kayak responded with a quick shudder.  I made a fast adjustment and the kayak proved to be more stable than I had expected.

 It was then that I realized I was holding my breath the whole time in anticipation of what I thought would be an inevitable plunge into the water.  We chose to kayak across the “flats” where the water was shallow and I’d be able to stand up and re-board after I flipped the boat, which I was still waiting for.  We went about a half mile then turned around and came back.  I made it to the dock feeling very proud of myself.  Though this was never on my bucket list, I decided to add it, so that I could have something to check off!

It did not take a lot of cajoling to get me back in the kayak later that day.  I actually enjoyed it and was feeling much more confident.  So much so, that we stayed in the deep channel, and I removed my life vest for comfort.  We were commenting on the various homes and gardens as we passed and were heading for the mangroves. 

“There’s a whole school of fish that just raced past me” Carol called back to me.  I glanced around me but saw nothing. As I put my paddle onto the water on the right side of my kayak, something hit hard on the left side, level with my thigh, and I felt the boat start to tip.  I shifted my weight. As the left side of my brain told me to jump out of the boat before whatever it was landed in my lap, something big splashed down hard into the water. 

“Was that you?  Did you fall in?” Carol called back to me, as she heard the thump and splash.

 But at that moment, the right brain screamed “NO! You’ll never get back in the boat and then you’ll be stuck in the water with it… and it may be a  them!” 

“BIG F-ING FISH!” I answered Carol.  My right brain continued yelling at me for pushing my luck and taking another trip out...for removing my life vest... for forgetting that this was not a lake but an ocean that had sharks and barracudas and God only knows what else!  I wondered at the whereabouts of the Portuguese man ‘o war we were looking at the morning before from the dock…. 

Carol manage to turn her kayak around and face me as the cold water from the splash rained down on me.

“BIG F-ING FISH!”  I repeated-- relieved I was still in the boat and hadn’t listened to the left brain and thanking God that the fish arched left instead of right when it jumped.    We both nearly rolled our kayaks from laughter. We paddled a little further before turning to go home, commenting that my big f-ing fish was probably the reason Carol saw all the smaller fish swimming so fast.

 I’m sure the entire Summerland Key heard me, as sound amplifies across the water.  I suppose I could have apologized for the language that escaped my lips, but at that point I didn’t care about anything but returning to land.  The adrenaline rush got me back across the flats in half the time it took to go out.  I kept looking back for Carol.  She was trying to keep up, “you’re like a horse heading for the barn! she yelled laughing, commenting on my speed.

But there was nothing that would have distracted me from my focus point of that ladder on the dock!  .

Before leaving the Keys, we met with another friend who lives there full time and kayaks quite often.  She too laughed at my reaction, but also told us of an incident that occurred a few months earlier.  A woman kayaking was speared in the back by a needle fish that jumped from the water and punctured her lung.  Luckily, her fiancé was with her and had a cell phone to call for help. 

I only saw a part of the fish that struck my boat and couldn’t identify it.   I just know that it hit so hard it nearly tipped the boat and made a loud enough noise that Carol heard it - even though she was several yards ahead of me.  The resulting splash rose above my head, and the part I did see was fat and meaty.

Yes, I went kayaking again with my husband that same afternoon.  All things considered, it was a good time.  I plan on buying a kayak for home to use on the lake or river next week.   However, I may stick to the flats next time I’m in the keys and will probably keep the life vest on. No sense in tempting fate!

  

"Name, Address and License Plate"

Being stuck in the office and store doing the same jobs day in and day out 7 days per week can become monotonous.  In fact, the routine becomes so ingrained on you that you sometimes forget what day of the week it is, because one day is exactly like the next.  Unless something so out of the ordinary happens like it did one beautiful summer day…

Because we are a campground, all cars must be registered.  We also require adults to sign a walking waiver that states they are walking at their own risk and will not hold us responsible if they trip or fall.  We were signing in wolf watchers as we do every day, indicating where on the page we need their name, address and license plate number.  The words become a mindless repetition, almost a mantra as we point and repeat “name, address, license plate and signatures of anyone 18 years and older”. 

 A large percentage of the general public do not memorize their license plate numbers and thus have to go out to the parking lot to check.  When I pointed to the book and repeated for the umpteenth time that day “name, address, license plate and signature”, it did not surprise me when the man set the pencil back down and said, “I’ll be right back”.   He returned about five minutes later and tried to hand me the metal rectangle he had just removed from the back of his car. When he saw the expression on my face followed by the burst of laughter, I could almost see the cartoon light bulb over his head when he realized his error.

  “Uh, you didn’t mean you needed the actual plate did you”, he asked with a sheepish smile.

  No, but you have just made my day” I said laughing, as I copied the number into the requisite space.  The rest of the day sailed by with intermittent giggles from staff members. 

 Are there any of us who can say we haven’t had those moments that did not give the impression of having the intelligence we’d like others to credit us with?  Wouldn’t it be nice if we could freeze frame and rewind time to take back something we said or did before anyone would notice?  Personally, I’ve had more of those dim witted moments than I’d care to admit to.  In fact, there are enough expressions out there to suggest it’s not all that uncommon to have had those moments when our own boat may have been in the water without the oars.

 Not the sharpest knife in the drawer…, not the brightest bulb in the pack…, dumber than a stump…, playing with an incomplete deck…a few fries short of a happy meal…not the brightest crayon in the box…a few planks short of a bridge…all foam and no beer…a few screws short of a hardware store…elevator doesn’t go all the way to the top floor…,couldn’t pour water out of a boot if the instructions were on the heel…too much yardage between the goal posts…half a bubble off plumb…no lifeguard in the gene pool… an so on. 

How do we recoup some dignity after saying or doing something to spawn a new colloquialism?  Humor.  We have to be able to be the first to laugh at ourselves. Sadly, many people today have lost their sense of humor.  We are wrapped so tight in our own egos that we are unable to accept even constructive criticism.  Mockery and name calling was just as prevalent when I was young as it is today.  What makes it different than what goes on presently is the manner in which the mocking was handled.  There was not a physical or legal retaliation.  There were two simple phrases that raised the protective shield up around us “sticks and stones may break my bones but names can never hurt me” as well as “I’m rubber you’re glue, whatever you say bounces off of me and sticks to you”.  It’s cheaper than lawyers, and less hazardous than physical attacks.  Sounds stupid or foolish?  Most certainly, but isn’t that what all of us have most in common?  Didn’t Shakespeare sum it up with “all the world’s a stage and the people in it merely players. I'm thinking life is a comedy, and we're a long way from winning the "Oscar".