Maintaining Physical Contact, A Novella

I always wanted to go large-game fishing in the Florida Keys. Truth be told, however, I get seasick very easily. Some of the common remedies, including Dramamine, ginger, and even cannabis, have all failed to help me tolerate rough seas. Scopolamine patches placed behind the ear were heralded to be the paradigm shift in the treatment of motion sickness, but they didn’t help me either.

I had to get this experience off my bucket list without it being a horrible memory. I didn’t think I could tolerate hours or days on a rocking boat in the hot sun.

A friend of mine gave me the name of a captain who was more successful than most. If memory serves me, his name was Jimmy Laws. Now this guy was not easy to track down. He wasn’t in the phone book, didn’t have a website, and there was no business card that someone could offer me. Apparently, the way you found him was to ask around and leave your number and hopefully he’d call you back.

After making a few calls, I found out that he frequently had lunch in a restaurant that served great conch chowder. I left a message with the waitress, and got a call from Jimmy a few weeks later. The last thing you got from this guy was the high-pressure sale. I told him that I wanted to go after large-game fish, but I didn’t want to get skunked. He told me he went out twice a day, 8 a.m. to noon and 1 p.m. to 4 p.m.

“Now don’t expect to catch a marlin the first time out,” he told me. “I could get your good size tarpon if you’re willing to meet me at the dock 4 a.m.”

Now this is not exactly what I expected. I saw myself in shorts, a T-shirt, a baseball cap, and generous sunscreen. This guy is telling me to wear a sweat shirt.

“Don’t worry,” he said. “I’ll get you what you’re looking for.”

Jimmy told me what other captains charge for four hours during the day. He told me that when we got back to the pier I should pay him what I thought was fair. Now this guy was very easy going, yet very confident.

My buddy and I stayed in a hotel about 500 yards from the pier. At 4 a.m. we made our way to the eighth slip on the right side. Initially I was taken aback because I expected to see a large fishing boat with radar and a large chair that held you in place while you were pulling in your catch. Jimmy’s boat was nothing more than a small whaler with a decent-size motor. He arrived with six or so rods and reels in his right hand and bait and lures in the left hand.

Jimmy started up the engine and detached the rope from the dock. We started to move, and I couldn’t see my hand in front of my face. Somehow he was able to make his way through the dark waterway and under a highway overpass. The boat started to bounce over the choppy water. I was worried that I’d begin to get seasick, but with the cool air and the dark sky I felt pretty good. After a while he stopped the boat and positioned the rods at the stern of the whaler. 

“So now what”? I thought to myself. “What kind of adventure is this going to be if I can’t see anything”?

Suddenly, there was angry splashing all around us. I initially thought that we had bit off more than we could chew, and we were in trouble. The whaler didn’t seem like the right boat for this type of adventure.

Jimmy then asked, “You like that?” “It’s the tarpon feeding at the surface.”

I didn’t know what they were going after, but I thought there was a good chance they’d bump into one of our hooks. It took seconds, and one of the reels started to spin.

Jimmy yelled, “Go get it!”

Now this was no easy task—these are powerful fish. I figure it took me about 15 minutes or so and I landed one that was the size of the back of the boat. My buddy was a bit antsy because he thought the feeding frenzy would end and he’d be left without a catch. But Jimmy was a great captain, and before we went back we brought five good-size tarpons to the surface. Bringing one home would’ve been nice, but they don’t taste very good, and I’m against the idea of taxidermy.

On the way back it was already light, and we were able to catch a cobia and a few yellowtails. We took some pictures and Jimmy filleted the fish for us. His knife was sharp, yet probably constructed before the Florida Keys oversea highway was built.

We reached the pier a little after 7 a.m. The large fishing boats were ready to depart with their passengers in their shorts, T-shirts, hats, and sunscreen. We left the dock with our dinner wrapped in brown paper and placed in a cooler. When I arrived home, I handed my wife the fillets and asked her to prepare them for dinner.

She asked, “Who are you kidding? You stopped at Doris’s, didn’t you?”

She may not have believed my story, but I never threw up on that trip and I walked a little taller after that day.