LaAngler
06-16-2010, 04:24 PM
found this old email, i've posted these a long time ago i think.
Another interesting day mating on an NJ bottom fishing boat. I arrive at 6:10 am to see a van load of Asian customers unloading their gear. Six customers had 28 rods and 12 large coolers. All the reels were extravagant to say the least, Duels, Trinidads and Pro Gears ruled the roost. The rods were all G. Loomis and the reels all featured braid. Right away I know that I will hear the snap, crackle and pop of a rod exploding. One of these gentlemen was a regular who told me that he invited all of Chinatown , a boast that was not far off the mark. Never has Point Pleasant Beach seen so many incidents of bad driving as this fair morn. At 6:25 am I smell a hideous odor, like something rotting. I look out to the lot and see 5 gentleman who appear to be Korean unloading their gear, ah Kim Chee I surmise. Truly the breakfast of champions.
At around 6:45, 3 gentleman board with 4'6'' Sturdy Sticks and electric reels, surely necessary for 1 lb fish. The customer from last week is back with his friends, electramate fully repaired. A few minutes later, I smell another horrible odor, one that makes Kim Chee seem like Chanel Number 5. I know this odor...Stinky Steve has arrived. He is a man who believes neither in washing his cooler or icing the fish that he keeps in his car, often for 4 or 5 days at a time. He also sports some repugnant B.O. to top things off. Last nights dinner fights to escape the horrid stench, but I hold fast. People of all races and national origins are frozen by the odor, moving away from the source with all haste. I briefly toyed with stuffing clams up my nose to block the smell as he invited me to see his oldie rock and roll band play this weekend. He didn't offer to waive the cover of course.
As we cast off from the dock, there were 34 customers, a good haul for a rainy week day. Approximately 25 were Asian, few of which spoke even passable English. As I cut bait in the back of the boat, a few of the Korean gentleman start to eat the clams before I can cut them. I am amazed that they can easily down a 3 day old raw clam and wonder if they are new immigrants from the North who had subsisted on grass and tree bark for the past 3 years. I realize that this bait eating must be nipped in the bud, so I load down the clams with Kosher salt. At 8:00 am, the first customer tries the salty clams and hurls off the back of the boat. We arrive on the grounds after a short ride. Fishing is fairly productive with good action and just enough keepers. Unfortunately every fish is a keeper for many of our customers this day. At 8:20 am, the first electric reel vs. artificial reef battle begins, with the reef quickly gains the upper hand until 80 lb braid snaps like a rifle shot. One of the three guides on this particular Sturdy Stick is ripped off by the force.
At 8:45 am, I notice one of the Korean gentleman keeping a 9" blackfish and searching for his fillet knife. As I watch said gentleman fillets the fish and quickly devours the raw fillets, w/o even washing them off. At this time I go upstairs and tell the Captain to lock his golden retriever in the wheelhouse. I am quite fearful that one of our hungry customers may find friendly and slobbery Cabela to be a meal equal to cold Kim Chee and raw bloody fish fillets. The fish eating display horrifies most everyone else on board. Even the people keeping 8" sea bass judge this to be bad form. Then at 9:30 am, one of our few native English speaking customers catches an 11" porgy. I mention that you can't keep them as they are out of season. He then asks me how big porgies have to be when they are out of season. I answer it is illegal to keep them out of season. He asks how big again, to which I reply 5 feet long. He then curses this draconian size limit on and off for the rest of the day.
As the day progresses, almost everyone on board is keeping undersized fish and all are over limit. Any blackfish that is caught is eaten alive by the Kim Il Jong fan club. I am catching a few fish between cutting my hands and tangled 60 and 80lb Spider Wire. A group of Chinese customers produce enough food to feed a small army, again prompting me to wonder how 130lb men eat 3 times more then me and stay skinny. I surmise it may be some sort of communist plot, but lack hard evidence. A man with a 4/0 sized Duel reel says I would do better if I had a bigger reel right after I haul in 3 3lbers in a row. As I look in his bucket, I see a sight that would make R. Kelly's knees knock. Yes, there were many a undersized fish in there. At around 1:00pm, the oldies station plays the Doo Run Run song, not sure if this is the proper name. I have a Stripes flashback and start singing aloud. Soon 5 Chinese customers are going " Da Doo Ran Ran Ran" along with me as I nearly pee all over myself. I try to get the Captain to play his Christmas tape with Deck the Halls, but he has seen Christmas story too and quickly figures out my plan, no "Fa Ra Ra Ra" for me today. Then at 1:30 pm, a hear the sweet, sweet music of another G. Loomis rod biting the dust.
At 2:30 pm, coolers are overfilled and we start to head in. I quickly finish the few fillet jobs and start to wash down the boat. All aboard have truly been exposed to the bounty of the sea, most raping it like a hillbilly on Ned Beatty. I almost hear a pig squealing far off in the background. At 3:30 pm we docked, and customers started pestering me to sell them my fish. I politely declined as I didn't like any of them enough to do so, not unless they were willing to pay 3 times more than they were worth. For even though there were at least 40 outfits on board that cost over $500 and my hands were bleeding with Spiderwire cuts, I had only been tipped 38 dollars by 33 customers. I bade this cursed day good riddance as a van crashed into a Honda in our parking lot. Both cars' occupants eager no doubt to get their catch back to some restaurant.
No this is not a sex thread, so keep calm snook nook and flat out nut. Rather it details my first day back mating on a headboat in NJ. Get to the boat at 6 am and promptly see an elderly gentleman in a 1972 Eldorado driving in the wrong lane. Karma mandated that he would be a patron on this fine day. At 6:15 am, I see my first patron of the day with an electric reel, a necessity for the 40-50 feet depths we fish in the Spring. I notice something even stranger about said outfit and notice that the rod is a 4 foot " Sturdy Stick" with 2 guides.
Around 6:30, the first patron asks for bait, this of course being very necessary given that we won't be leaving the dock until 7:30 or so. At 6:45, I set up the ticket table to begin collecting fares. Approximately 6:52 A.M., first 40 year old attempts to get a 4 dollar senior citizens discount. At 6:55 am, first patron asks if fishing will be any good today. I respectfully respond that fishing was very good yesterday as the whole boat limited out on black sea bass. He of course responds, but how will we do today? I bite my tongue to prevent some sort of snide comment about having Jedi powers and working for fifty dollars a day.
At 7:15, I notice we already have 50 people, so much for easing back into things. Around 7:20 I leave ticket taking and start to cut bait. Approximately 7:21, the first customer reaches under my knife to grab a handful of clams. I nicely warn the gentleman who then says that my knife skills are so good that he is not afraid. I again bite my tongue to prevent a nasty comment about my mastery of a mystical energy field called the force. At 7:30, we begin to pull out of the dock and a bird dumps on the bill of my hat, what an auspicious omen.
At 8:15 we reach the first spot. Around 8:16, first googan hooks the anchor line by dropping down before the boat is even fully stopped let alone properly anchored. By 8:25 lines are down and we are having a good pick of decent sea bass. I even have a few in the box. 8:27 am, electric reel man obviously is hooked into the bottom. I go to render aid but claims to have a "big one." At 8:29, I check back and he is still battling.
Around 8:32, the electramate has had enough and fails, line breaking. Man screams about his lost trophy. 8:37, first customer hooks my hand by pulling incessantly while I am untangling his rig, I am truly blessed this great morning.
As we shift spots, I notice the wind dies out completely. Fishing with no wind on the anchor is just so fun with 70 people on board. I look forward to working in Charlotte 's Web all day. At 9:00 am I notice the first short blackfish being kept, this one being 8" when the limit is 14". I mention to the customer that unfortunately his trophy is undersized and must go back to which he cheerily answers, "F*** you and the horse you rode in on."
By 9:15 am, all the bait, approximately 60 lbs of cut clams, is gone. This of course is another mystery for the X-Files.
What has so far been a pretty good day for catching, and a questionable day in general, turns around for the brighter at about 10:00 am when the first G.Loomis rod of the day explodes. Nothing quite like a 20lb class ultra stiff graphite rod, 65lb power pro and a locked down drag. At 10:15 am, the first customer complains to me about the fishing. I peer into his dry burlap bag and see 30 fish, the limit being 25, 6 of which may actually meet or acceed the 12" limit. At 10:30 am, the first fat, old man goes bare chested, suddenly I crave milk and think about the redman I will see later in the afternoon.
Around 11:00 am, I walk around the boat reminding people to put their fish on ice, noticing of course that most are in dry burlap bags or sitting in the sun in buckets of water. I also have to lock the bait in a closet so we have some left for later, as we have now gone through 160 lbs of clams. By this time I have caught 20 sea bass on about a half pint of clam strips.
11:15 am, first customer asks me to gaff a 14" sea bass. Since this individual is using 50lb line, he is obviously worried that the 1lb leviathan will break off as he swings it in the boat. I of course miss on the first attempt as the resistance of the 1lb fish against the gaff shot makes it rather difficult to stick.
Around noon an elderly gentleman asks me if I could make him some chili. Since we have no galley, meat, tomatoes or spices, I sadly had to decline. I did offer to microwave him a burger or give him some of my chicken salad, but he commented that he really wanted the chili. At 12:15, Rod Stewart's If You Want My body plays on the radio, to which the obese bare chested and now sun burnt man starts to sing along with and sort of dance to. The urge to vomit nearly overcomes my normally calm reserve.
Around 12:30, the first patron hooks himself in the butt with his own rig. I help him out and suggest he cut off 2 or 3 of his 5 hooks. About 12:45, Paul, the other mate, points out how the only two women on board have mustaches, and again I almost lose my breakfast. A few minutes later, a customer asks me what I do with my fish and I mention that I sell them. He then offers to sell me his fish, to which I explain I am in the business of selling, not buying. He then curses me and says that if I don't want to buy them, someone else will, which sort of seemed like my original point. Just a bit after 1:00, I come across the most interesting tangle of the day where a gentleman in the back port corner of a 95 foot boat somehow becomes tangled with someone on the starboard side of the front pulpit. The urge to cower up in the wheelhouse is difficult to overcome.
I bravely, or stupidly, struggle on and try to keep a positive attitude. At
1:30 I start to fillet fish. The first few jobs go well until a burlap sack is handed to me. Inside were fish that had been dry for hours in the 80 degree heat, a few of which were even over the minimum size limit. I struggle through these soft messy, pre-cooked fish and hand back a small bag of fillets with a sack full of sub legals. Said customer then gives me a dollar and suggests untoward things about my mother.
At around 2:00pm we start to head in. Even with the crowd many customers have had a good time and caught their limits, even more for some folks. Once back at the dock, everyone tramples each other to get off the boat. Many are blocked in by 3 or 4 cars but still rush off and wait impatiently. Others go to buy ice, even those who's fish sat out in the hot sun for 4 or 5 hours. It truly was a good day, especially since no one tried to steal my rod.
This Monday, I stopped at 7-11 to get coffee for the crew before going to work on my party boat. Once inside, I saw 2 Fish and Game officers getting some breakfast and we exchanged greetings. They informed me that they would be checking my boat this afternoon which left me with mixed emotions. On one hand, many of our customers need a good smack down, both figuratively and literally. On the other, I would surely be doing 1 1/2 -2 hours of unpaid overtime, moving the cars of the accused to let the innocent out, watching as the officers measured our fish racks, and waiting to clean the boat while they investigated. All morning, as the customers filed in, the mates start placing side bets on who was gonna get busted and who would slide by. We even warn people, but of course they will not listen. They will still do whatever they want regardless of our advice and complain when it blows up in their faces, just a typical day really.
The whole crew was aboard, Mushmouth, Stinky Steve, Monte the Jewish gangster, Ambrose the skater and Harry the Drunk. We had 40 fares, and my guess was at least 22 would be ticketed this fine day. We set off in search of sea bass and as usual it was a lame f*** around. I was doing fairly well on decent sized sea bass in between unsnarling the miles of spider wire on board this day. Mushmouth was filling his green garbage pail with anything that bit, regardless of size, species or edibility. Stinky Steve was putting the tail of every fish at 12 1/2" while the head was not on the zero and proclaiming he had a keeper. Monte was trying to break the law, but his fishing skills are so lame, that catching over 25 was a real struggle. Ambrose had his 3 rods strategically placed around the boat and skated whenever someone started doing well, or simply casted over 10 lines to get on the hot spot.
The captain did his best to save these cretins from themselves by moving to played out spots after most had 15-20 fish. But they still picked away at 7"-9" sea bass and out of season porgies. One gentleman was even slamming the 8" blackfish in the stern, a.k.a. googan section. Even though the current was screaming and most customers were using 3 oz sinkers and were fishing 50 feet off the wreck, fish were still dying. I knew we were in deep trouble and that my predictions may have been a touch conservative. As Harry the drunk pucked on my shoes and cooler, I knew that thousands of dollars in fines would be levied today. As we entered the inlet, I saw two officers waiting in their car, ready to meet us at the dock. My spirits were mixed, as I did have something to be happy about, namely my first thong siting of the year at the inlet bar.
At the dock, 8 game wardens were eagerly awaiting our arrival. I looked for the flowers which are the traditional gift for those coming back for cruises, but instead I saw pads and pens in hand. I also began to notice that some of our customers must have caught flying fish while I was busy elsewhere, as small sea bass were moving throw the air at great velocities. As each customer got off, the officers made a cursory glance into their coolers. If nothing seemed wrong, they were free to leave. This essentially meant that having 5 fish too many or a few 1/2" short was not detected. Yet even this leniency was not enough of an aid to many of our customers. Mushmouth gets nailed for 30 short/over limit sea bass, 5 short/over limit blackfish and 2 short/ot of season porgies, fine $880. Harry the drunk gets caught for 4 undersized sea bass, gets a warning and has to call or cab or else risk getting a DUI on the spot. Monte the Jewish gangster only has 17 fish and 1 short, so he gets a warning and looks a bit disappointed that he was a good enough fisherman to get really jacked up. Ambrose is 7 over limit with 5 shorts and gets $120 in fines. Stinky Steve has 13 undersized/over limit blackfish and 4 out of season porgies. He gets $420 in fines and a night on jail due to outstanding warrants for back child support. Maybe he'll be rooming with another customer who will also be staying at Motel Point Beach Jail for an aggravated assault warrant.
All on in all 27 citations were issued and 3 warnings. Two customers went to jail and about $5000 in fines were levied. I was stuck at the dock all afternoon as the officers used the boat as their central booking, my only real gripe with them. After a little cajoling, they at least let me pick through the seized fish to take the keepers to sell at the fish co-op. As you might imagine, tips were scarcer than normal and any little bit helped.
Another interesting day mating on an NJ bottom fishing boat. I arrive at 6:10 am to see a van load of Asian customers unloading their gear. Six customers had 28 rods and 12 large coolers. All the reels were extravagant to say the least, Duels, Trinidads and Pro Gears ruled the roost. The rods were all G. Loomis and the reels all featured braid. Right away I know that I will hear the snap, crackle and pop of a rod exploding. One of these gentlemen was a regular who told me that he invited all of Chinatown , a boast that was not far off the mark. Never has Point Pleasant Beach seen so many incidents of bad driving as this fair morn. At 6:25 am I smell a hideous odor, like something rotting. I look out to the lot and see 5 gentleman who appear to be Korean unloading their gear, ah Kim Chee I surmise. Truly the breakfast of champions.
At around 6:45, 3 gentleman board with 4'6'' Sturdy Sticks and electric reels, surely necessary for 1 lb fish. The customer from last week is back with his friends, electramate fully repaired. A few minutes later, I smell another horrible odor, one that makes Kim Chee seem like Chanel Number 5. I know this odor...Stinky Steve has arrived. He is a man who believes neither in washing his cooler or icing the fish that he keeps in his car, often for 4 or 5 days at a time. He also sports some repugnant B.O. to top things off. Last nights dinner fights to escape the horrid stench, but I hold fast. People of all races and national origins are frozen by the odor, moving away from the source with all haste. I briefly toyed with stuffing clams up my nose to block the smell as he invited me to see his oldie rock and roll band play this weekend. He didn't offer to waive the cover of course.
As we cast off from the dock, there were 34 customers, a good haul for a rainy week day. Approximately 25 were Asian, few of which spoke even passable English. As I cut bait in the back of the boat, a few of the Korean gentleman start to eat the clams before I can cut them. I am amazed that they can easily down a 3 day old raw clam and wonder if they are new immigrants from the North who had subsisted on grass and tree bark for the past 3 years. I realize that this bait eating must be nipped in the bud, so I load down the clams with Kosher salt. At 8:00 am, the first customer tries the salty clams and hurls off the back of the boat. We arrive on the grounds after a short ride. Fishing is fairly productive with good action and just enough keepers. Unfortunately every fish is a keeper for many of our customers this day. At 8:20 am, the first electric reel vs. artificial reef battle begins, with the reef quickly gains the upper hand until 80 lb braid snaps like a rifle shot. One of the three guides on this particular Sturdy Stick is ripped off by the force.
At 8:45 am, I notice one of the Korean gentleman keeping a 9" blackfish and searching for his fillet knife. As I watch said gentleman fillets the fish and quickly devours the raw fillets, w/o even washing them off. At this time I go upstairs and tell the Captain to lock his golden retriever in the wheelhouse. I am quite fearful that one of our hungry customers may find friendly and slobbery Cabela to be a meal equal to cold Kim Chee and raw bloody fish fillets. The fish eating display horrifies most everyone else on board. Even the people keeping 8" sea bass judge this to be bad form. Then at 9:30 am, one of our few native English speaking customers catches an 11" porgy. I mention that you can't keep them as they are out of season. He then asks me how big porgies have to be when they are out of season. I answer it is illegal to keep them out of season. He asks how big again, to which I reply 5 feet long. He then curses this draconian size limit on and off for the rest of the day.
As the day progresses, almost everyone on board is keeping undersized fish and all are over limit. Any blackfish that is caught is eaten alive by the Kim Il Jong fan club. I am catching a few fish between cutting my hands and tangled 60 and 80lb Spider Wire. A group of Chinese customers produce enough food to feed a small army, again prompting me to wonder how 130lb men eat 3 times more then me and stay skinny. I surmise it may be some sort of communist plot, but lack hard evidence. A man with a 4/0 sized Duel reel says I would do better if I had a bigger reel right after I haul in 3 3lbers in a row. As I look in his bucket, I see a sight that would make R. Kelly's knees knock. Yes, there were many a undersized fish in there. At around 1:00pm, the oldies station plays the Doo Run Run song, not sure if this is the proper name. I have a Stripes flashback and start singing aloud. Soon 5 Chinese customers are going " Da Doo Ran Ran Ran" along with me as I nearly pee all over myself. I try to get the Captain to play his Christmas tape with Deck the Halls, but he has seen Christmas story too and quickly figures out my plan, no "Fa Ra Ra Ra" for me today. Then at 1:30 pm, a hear the sweet, sweet music of another G. Loomis rod biting the dust.
At 2:30 pm, coolers are overfilled and we start to head in. I quickly finish the few fillet jobs and start to wash down the boat. All aboard have truly been exposed to the bounty of the sea, most raping it like a hillbilly on Ned Beatty. I almost hear a pig squealing far off in the background. At 3:30 pm we docked, and customers started pestering me to sell them my fish. I politely declined as I didn't like any of them enough to do so, not unless they were willing to pay 3 times more than they were worth. For even though there were at least 40 outfits on board that cost over $500 and my hands were bleeding with Spiderwire cuts, I had only been tipped 38 dollars by 33 customers. I bade this cursed day good riddance as a van crashed into a Honda in our parking lot. Both cars' occupants eager no doubt to get their catch back to some restaurant.
No this is not a sex thread, so keep calm snook nook and flat out nut. Rather it details my first day back mating on a headboat in NJ. Get to the boat at 6 am and promptly see an elderly gentleman in a 1972 Eldorado driving in the wrong lane. Karma mandated that he would be a patron on this fine day. At 6:15 am, I see my first patron of the day with an electric reel, a necessity for the 40-50 feet depths we fish in the Spring. I notice something even stranger about said outfit and notice that the rod is a 4 foot " Sturdy Stick" with 2 guides.
Around 6:30, the first patron asks for bait, this of course being very necessary given that we won't be leaving the dock until 7:30 or so. At 6:45, I set up the ticket table to begin collecting fares. Approximately 6:52 A.M., first 40 year old attempts to get a 4 dollar senior citizens discount. At 6:55 am, first patron asks if fishing will be any good today. I respectfully respond that fishing was very good yesterday as the whole boat limited out on black sea bass. He of course responds, but how will we do today? I bite my tongue to prevent some sort of snide comment about having Jedi powers and working for fifty dollars a day.
At 7:15, I notice we already have 50 people, so much for easing back into things. Around 7:20 I leave ticket taking and start to cut bait. Approximately 7:21, the first customer reaches under my knife to grab a handful of clams. I nicely warn the gentleman who then says that my knife skills are so good that he is not afraid. I again bite my tongue to prevent a nasty comment about my mastery of a mystical energy field called the force. At 7:30, we begin to pull out of the dock and a bird dumps on the bill of my hat, what an auspicious omen.
At 8:15 we reach the first spot. Around 8:16, first googan hooks the anchor line by dropping down before the boat is even fully stopped let alone properly anchored. By 8:25 lines are down and we are having a good pick of decent sea bass. I even have a few in the box. 8:27 am, electric reel man obviously is hooked into the bottom. I go to render aid but claims to have a "big one." At 8:29, I check back and he is still battling.
Around 8:32, the electramate has had enough and fails, line breaking. Man screams about his lost trophy. 8:37, first customer hooks my hand by pulling incessantly while I am untangling his rig, I am truly blessed this great morning.
As we shift spots, I notice the wind dies out completely. Fishing with no wind on the anchor is just so fun with 70 people on board. I look forward to working in Charlotte 's Web all day. At 9:00 am I notice the first short blackfish being kept, this one being 8" when the limit is 14". I mention to the customer that unfortunately his trophy is undersized and must go back to which he cheerily answers, "F*** you and the horse you rode in on."
By 9:15 am, all the bait, approximately 60 lbs of cut clams, is gone. This of course is another mystery for the X-Files.
What has so far been a pretty good day for catching, and a questionable day in general, turns around for the brighter at about 10:00 am when the first G.Loomis rod of the day explodes. Nothing quite like a 20lb class ultra stiff graphite rod, 65lb power pro and a locked down drag. At 10:15 am, the first customer complains to me about the fishing. I peer into his dry burlap bag and see 30 fish, the limit being 25, 6 of which may actually meet or acceed the 12" limit. At 10:30 am, the first fat, old man goes bare chested, suddenly I crave milk and think about the redman I will see later in the afternoon.
Around 11:00 am, I walk around the boat reminding people to put their fish on ice, noticing of course that most are in dry burlap bags or sitting in the sun in buckets of water. I also have to lock the bait in a closet so we have some left for later, as we have now gone through 160 lbs of clams. By this time I have caught 20 sea bass on about a half pint of clam strips.
11:15 am, first customer asks me to gaff a 14" sea bass. Since this individual is using 50lb line, he is obviously worried that the 1lb leviathan will break off as he swings it in the boat. I of course miss on the first attempt as the resistance of the 1lb fish against the gaff shot makes it rather difficult to stick.
Around noon an elderly gentleman asks me if I could make him some chili. Since we have no galley, meat, tomatoes or spices, I sadly had to decline. I did offer to microwave him a burger or give him some of my chicken salad, but he commented that he really wanted the chili. At 12:15, Rod Stewart's If You Want My body plays on the radio, to which the obese bare chested and now sun burnt man starts to sing along with and sort of dance to. The urge to vomit nearly overcomes my normally calm reserve.
Around 12:30, the first patron hooks himself in the butt with his own rig. I help him out and suggest he cut off 2 or 3 of his 5 hooks. About 12:45, Paul, the other mate, points out how the only two women on board have mustaches, and again I almost lose my breakfast. A few minutes later, a customer asks me what I do with my fish and I mention that I sell them. He then offers to sell me his fish, to which I explain I am in the business of selling, not buying. He then curses me and says that if I don't want to buy them, someone else will, which sort of seemed like my original point. Just a bit after 1:00, I come across the most interesting tangle of the day where a gentleman in the back port corner of a 95 foot boat somehow becomes tangled with someone on the starboard side of the front pulpit. The urge to cower up in the wheelhouse is difficult to overcome.
I bravely, or stupidly, struggle on and try to keep a positive attitude. At
1:30 I start to fillet fish. The first few jobs go well until a burlap sack is handed to me. Inside were fish that had been dry for hours in the 80 degree heat, a few of which were even over the minimum size limit. I struggle through these soft messy, pre-cooked fish and hand back a small bag of fillets with a sack full of sub legals. Said customer then gives me a dollar and suggests untoward things about my mother.
At around 2:00pm we start to head in. Even with the crowd many customers have had a good time and caught their limits, even more for some folks. Once back at the dock, everyone tramples each other to get off the boat. Many are blocked in by 3 or 4 cars but still rush off and wait impatiently. Others go to buy ice, even those who's fish sat out in the hot sun for 4 or 5 hours. It truly was a good day, especially since no one tried to steal my rod.
This Monday, I stopped at 7-11 to get coffee for the crew before going to work on my party boat. Once inside, I saw 2 Fish and Game officers getting some breakfast and we exchanged greetings. They informed me that they would be checking my boat this afternoon which left me with mixed emotions. On one hand, many of our customers need a good smack down, both figuratively and literally. On the other, I would surely be doing 1 1/2 -2 hours of unpaid overtime, moving the cars of the accused to let the innocent out, watching as the officers measured our fish racks, and waiting to clean the boat while they investigated. All morning, as the customers filed in, the mates start placing side bets on who was gonna get busted and who would slide by. We even warn people, but of course they will not listen. They will still do whatever they want regardless of our advice and complain when it blows up in their faces, just a typical day really.
The whole crew was aboard, Mushmouth, Stinky Steve, Monte the Jewish gangster, Ambrose the skater and Harry the Drunk. We had 40 fares, and my guess was at least 22 would be ticketed this fine day. We set off in search of sea bass and as usual it was a lame f*** around. I was doing fairly well on decent sized sea bass in between unsnarling the miles of spider wire on board this day. Mushmouth was filling his green garbage pail with anything that bit, regardless of size, species or edibility. Stinky Steve was putting the tail of every fish at 12 1/2" while the head was not on the zero and proclaiming he had a keeper. Monte was trying to break the law, but his fishing skills are so lame, that catching over 25 was a real struggle. Ambrose had his 3 rods strategically placed around the boat and skated whenever someone started doing well, or simply casted over 10 lines to get on the hot spot.
The captain did his best to save these cretins from themselves by moving to played out spots after most had 15-20 fish. But they still picked away at 7"-9" sea bass and out of season porgies. One gentleman was even slamming the 8" blackfish in the stern, a.k.a. googan section. Even though the current was screaming and most customers were using 3 oz sinkers and were fishing 50 feet off the wreck, fish were still dying. I knew we were in deep trouble and that my predictions may have been a touch conservative. As Harry the drunk pucked on my shoes and cooler, I knew that thousands of dollars in fines would be levied today. As we entered the inlet, I saw two officers waiting in their car, ready to meet us at the dock. My spirits were mixed, as I did have something to be happy about, namely my first thong siting of the year at the inlet bar.
At the dock, 8 game wardens were eagerly awaiting our arrival. I looked for the flowers which are the traditional gift for those coming back for cruises, but instead I saw pads and pens in hand. I also began to notice that some of our customers must have caught flying fish while I was busy elsewhere, as small sea bass were moving throw the air at great velocities. As each customer got off, the officers made a cursory glance into their coolers. If nothing seemed wrong, they were free to leave. This essentially meant that having 5 fish too many or a few 1/2" short was not detected. Yet even this leniency was not enough of an aid to many of our customers. Mushmouth gets nailed for 30 short/over limit sea bass, 5 short/over limit blackfish and 2 short/ot of season porgies, fine $880. Harry the drunk gets caught for 4 undersized sea bass, gets a warning and has to call or cab or else risk getting a DUI on the spot. Monte the Jewish gangster only has 17 fish and 1 short, so he gets a warning and looks a bit disappointed that he was a good enough fisherman to get really jacked up. Ambrose is 7 over limit with 5 shorts and gets $120 in fines. Stinky Steve has 13 undersized/over limit blackfish and 4 out of season porgies. He gets $420 in fines and a night on jail due to outstanding warrants for back child support. Maybe he'll be rooming with another customer who will also be staying at Motel Point Beach Jail for an aggravated assault warrant.
All on in all 27 citations were issued and 3 warnings. Two customers went to jail and about $5000 in fines were levied. I was stuck at the dock all afternoon as the officers used the boat as their central booking, my only real gripe with them. After a little cajoling, they at least let me pick through the seized fish to take the keepers to sell at the fish co-op. As you might imagine, tips were scarcer than normal and any little bit helped.