copyright 2007 Rebecca Peck

Exhausted from two nights without sleep, the weary vacationer manages to drag herself up the steps and into the cockpit of the boat.  Shielding her eyes from the brilliant sunlight reflecting off the idyllic blue waters, she asks her sailing partner, “What time is it?”

“It’s Fishing time!!” he yells enthusiastically.

“Don’t we have to weigh anchor and get moving?” she asks.

“Oh, I can sail and fish at the same time, “ he replies confidently.

She is torn – torn between staying to watch him make a complete fool of himself, or diving off the boat and swimming to civilization as fast as she freakin’ can.  She decides it’s too good of an opportunity to pass up, so she stays.  BIG mistake.  And so begins Day Three of….The Sailing Vacation From Hell.

The anchor is hauled up, the sails are unfurled and we’re off!  The BF asks me to hold the wheel while he casts his line and stick his rod in the little holder thingy (the technical name escapes me at the moment).  We’re sailing along for about five minutes when – Eureka! He’s got something on the line!  Gee, I think to myself, maybe he can sail and fish at the same time.  He reels in his catch and I realize I’ve spoken too soon.  It’s a pot, or to be more accurate, a line attached to a lobster pot.  Yep, it’s lobster season here in the keys, and the damn pots are everywhere.  He no sooner casts his line again and he’s got another pot on the hook.

“Don’t you think we’re better off just reeling it in and calling it a day?” I ask him hopefully.

“Why?  Fishing is so relaxing, “  he says with a completely straight face.

Lesson # 5  Men will find any excuse to handle their rod.

We spend the better part of the morning sloooowly sailing towards the western end of the keys, all because we have to keep pulling lobster pots off the damn line.  Then, after lunch, the BF decides to add a new wrinkle.  He thinks that if he sails really close to the bobber that’s attached to the pot, he’ll be less likely to catch it on his line.  There’s nothing wrong with that logic, IF YOU HAPPEN TO BE IN A BOAT WITH NO KEEL!  BF goes cruising right by the first bobber, and guess what?  It doesn’t get hooked on his fishing line.  THE DAMN LOBSTER LINE IS NOW HOOKED ON THE BOTTOM OF OUR BOAT!!!!  BF decides to try working it loose by coming about.  Well, it’s not working and now we are sailing opposite of the direction we need to be going in.  Bf finally decides to stop the boat, jump off and swim down and unhook the line. 

“Can we please put the fishing pole away?”  I ask wearily.  “It’s starting to get dark.”

“But, I have another idea,” protests the BF.

I give him the “I haven’t had sleep for two days, don’t piss me off” look, and he reluctantly puts away the rod.  Then he grabs the wheel and heads into a cove for the night.  So ends Day Three.

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