So I had 3 days off in April, one of which was this past Sunday. I had a 6-six course VIP dinner party on Saturday that I was prepping for until 02:00 on Friday "night". Left, walked my dog to the beach, showered, was asleep by 04:00, and back ITK @06:27. Got about 90 minutes shut-eye, and I'm prepping away through breakfast service when I get a text.
One of my fishing buddies is asking if I'm off Sunday. I don't wanna say yes cuz I can sense it's an invitation for a trip... which are typically 2 or 3 days long. I really don't need the little shred of sanity I have - to be pissed on by another spontaneous stroke of misfortune... as I am all too familiar with.
I answer, "Why?"
He replies, "Headin to the Islands [bahamas] for the annual Mutton run @02:00. You in?"
I reply, "Only off Sunday."
He rebuts, "We're back @21:00 on Sunday."
As you could imagine, I about shook him through the phone, "I'M IN!"
"BUT... I will get out of work 00:30 earliest. I have to get home to walk the dog AT LEAST an hour. Shower. Pack. Race to the port 75 miles North of me. If you have to sail @02:00, I'm not your guy."
He says, "Just get your ass up here no later then 03:00."
Couldn't believe it was looking like I was going to slay some cold-bloods, but it was happening. I get on the horn & start scheduling people & negotiating compensations to watch my dog the next day. Then back to work... WITH JOY & HOPE IN MY KNIFE.
I get out at 00:30, fill up the (2) 120qt coolers downstairs at the ice machine, and I'm off to my dog. Give him his due love & affection, then shower, grab what garb I can & GO, GO, GO... no time to prepare anything. I hit the interstate at 100+; never dropped below 85. Stopped for fuel 50 miles in, grabbed two gallons of water for hydration, and back on the I. Made it there AT 03:00!
Unloaded. Loaded. Parked. Shoved off...
30 miles offshore we lost oil pressure in the port motor.
My buddy & I tried valiantly to persuade his buddy, the Captain, to continue the next 40 miles on one motor, but he would not & Captain's word is law & we were not feeling mutinous on his friend's SeaVee. We fished US waters on the way back on one motor; never making the crossing. Lines were wet 8 hours, and we caught 8 Mahi up to 30#... nice fish, but not what we were planning. Sorta sucked. Racing around I had no time to pack food or sunscreen. Im burnt so bad I'm swollen like BOTOX. One of the housekeepers saw me on Monday, and after her visible shock, she says, "Now, you even look like El Diablo!"
I'm still leaking plasma out of my face. It's bad.
As the saying goes, "Any day fishing, is better than a day at work..." I concur.GOKUJO BACK AT IT:My 3 fish share of the total 8:
I had already cleaned two & skinned the last fish when the Head Butler says, "Did you take any pictures?"
"Nope."So here's a semi-whole fish picture, with my burnt crispity cracker ass