“You Look Green. . .”

My Cousin Sharon trades e-stuff with me on a daily basis. Today, she sent an invitation to go fishing on a special excursion. The description of the trip, and the photos attached, evoked memories of a time when I went deep-sea fishing on the Gulf of Mexico.

First, I will share the invitation; then I will post my response, then the photos.

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The Invitation

A friend of mine is planning a fishing excursion to Stewart Island (New Zealand) next week.

This is not a normal fishing boat jaunt.  This is 5-star stuff. All gear, food, booze, supplied.  The works!

Relax in the spa pool and watch the sun set over Mount Anglem. Then, gather around the piano and the well-stocked bar for an evening of romantic something.

Expressions of interest are invited for this ‘once-in-a-lifetime’ experience.

Publicity photographs attached.

Let me know if you want to go.

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My Response

Sharon:

Back in the 1980’s, I was on a fishing junket like the one shown in these photos. I was a guest of Monsanto. They invited me to visit their technical center in Pensacola, Florida in March for a seminar on nylon plastic. What the heck, it was near the end of a long hard Chicago winter, and we needed some sun and fun. Barb was with me. When school was out, the boyz went deep-sea fishing on a forty-foot charter boat in the Gulf of Mexico. My colleague’s wives’ took Barb sailing on Pensacola Bay.

The coolers were stocked with every food and drink imaginable, what a great day it promised to be. We motored out of port on the flat water of Pensacola Bay. I dove into the goodies and had a breakfast of cold greasy sausage on a croissant chased by a beer. The Captain kept his speed down as we motored the bay.  We passed the breakwater into the Gulf when he kicked it into high-speed.

Instantly, I learned the meaning of seasickness. The boat was ours for the day, but in my mind all I kept saying was turn back, turn back, take me fishing in the bay.

Catching a fish was a challenge. I rotated between hanging on for dear life, and running to the head, all the while holding on to a pole. It was eight hours that seemed like eight days. The boat rocked, rolled, swayed, bobbed, and dipped; all at the same time. We dipped, and a wall of water surrounded the boat. Oh my God! We are going down. We bobbed, and all we saw was sky. I never wanted my life to end as much as I did that day.

It finally did end, and we reentered Pensacola Bay. The water was instantly flat; the seasickness disappeared as quickly as it came.  Life was good again.

Barb met me at the dock all bubbly to tell me about her great day of sailing on the bay. She took one look at me, and said, “You look green, are you okay?”

Thanks for sharing the invitation; it brought back memories of the “good old days.”

Not.

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The Photos

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