DEEP SEA FISHING NIGHTMARE IN THE DAYTIME (Excerpt from Embracing the Chaos: Wit and Wisdom From the Self-Proclaimed Hopeless Amateur)

While on vacation at the beach this summer, my wife and I took our three boys deep sea fishing. The trip out to sea was pleasant enough, but the situation deteriorated rapidly once the captain stopped the boat. Within thirty seconds, my wife announced that she was sick. I’ll spare you the details but I can tell you she never wet a hook for the remainder of the day. I had been deep sea fishing a few times in my life, but I had forgotten some of the details. First of all, just to stand on the deck and fish required the concentration and agility of a high-wire walker at a circus as the boat rode to the crest of every wave. Our captain informed us to bait our hooks and "go get ‘em". I reached in the bucket of bait and pulled out a slimy squid ball that looked more like something you might cough up if you had pneumonia. And so we began, minus Mom. Our four-year-old son J.T. couldn’t keep his balance, so I locked him between my legs to prop him up as I tried to fish, keep my balance, and hold my nose with one hand to block out the squid smell. Cal, our eight-year-old, kept getting his line tangled with a man on the other side of the boat wearing a Budweiser hat and no shirt. Meanwhile, my wife was curled up in the fetal position a few feet from me. She was unresponsive to my questions of concern for her, so eventually I just quit asking. Within thirty minutes, Cal gave up on fishing after catching his Budweiser friend’s hook for the fifth time. He just sat and stared into the abyss the rest of the day. My eleven-year-old son Will kept catching fish that the crew said were too small to keep and made him throw back in. I guess the old saying "There’s more fish in the sea" isn’t true anymore. Apparently they’re short on fish so they make us throw them back. By the way, they’re not particularly exciting fish anyway. All we caught were those ugly black sea bass that remind me of mutated carp. Where are all those fish I see on National Geographic Specials? I never see black sea bass on underwater television shows. I want to catch one of those blue and orange fish you see on television all the time. No such luck on this trip. An elderly gentleman next to us kept throwing up into the ocean. "Puke and Rally," we called him, because he never quit fishing. He could throw up while he was reeling in another too-small-to-keep black bass and never break stride. I was impressed. I felt a thud next to my right foot at one point. J.T. had finally succumbed to the urge to fall asleep and crashed unconscious next to me. I placed a flip flop under his head for a pillow to keep all that fish junk he was lying in from crawling into his ear and reproducing. Finally, it was time for the hour long trip back. Just as we were leaving, it began to rain. Some crammed underneath what little cover there was up top while others stayed down below in the cabin. Not my lovely wife. She remained in the fetal position and covered herself with her pullover and rode out the storm up top. I watched from the sheltered area as the love of my life got pelted by the rain and wallowed in misery. I would have stayed with her but J.T. was asleep in my arms, and I figured he deserved to be dry. Once we reached dry ground, the captain announced that his crew would be coming around to collect tips. I had already spent $120. In return, we caught fifteen ugly black gargoyle fish of which ten were too little to keep; we all smelled like squid, and I had to face permanent resentment from the woman of my dreams. It’s safe to say the captain and his crew remained tipless that afternoon. So if all this sounds appealing to you, head out to the open sea for a day. And on your way out, wave to the Stroupes. We’ll be the ones on the shore surf fishing.