Technically it was already Sunday by the time I got back to Brooklyn. 3AM to be exact. I had just driven back from my parents’ house in Delaware after being humiliated after my grandmother’s 90th birthday at a 1987 version of Trivial Pursuit, a victim of such vexing quandaries as “What sound does a hiccup make?” and “How many cylinders does a V8 fire?”. I could hardly believe I was reading these questions off to my all-female team of opponents. I have to admit I missed an easy one on Shakespeare, but, I mean, come on.
The boat was leaving in four hours. I still had to gear up, make some food, toss a bunch of crap in a bag and wake up in two and a half. I left the light on and set two alarms. At 545AM I woke up to the second one, having no memory of the first ever going off. I managed to drag my ass out of bed and put my contact lenses in the wrong eyes, right before my friend Heather showed up at my door. We loaded up my car and headed for Sheepshead Bay for the Ocean Eagle V.
About 20 minutes later I pulled off the Belt Parkway to see Scott Behr’s truck plowing through a giant puddle. He pulled off and in front of him was Alex A.’s Subaru Outback, newly lifted and very much jealousy-inducing (for me—really gotta get those CELs figured out to move on to bigger and better things with my Forester). We stopped at the bodega across from the Ocean Eagle to buy some beer, but Important to Note: They will not sell you beer on a Sunday before 0800. What kind of savages did they think we were?
Aboard the boat we had a good crew already cooking. Altay and Robin came in from the city, Alex M. from Bay Ridge, Scott and his son Chase, Alex A., a new fishing buddy I met this winter talking fishing and Subarus at the ranger station at Floyd Bennett Field, my friend Heather—a newbie to fishing; and myself, a terrible fisherman. For some reason there was a guy backstroking through Sheepshead Bay when we boarded. At 0700 we were off!
Captain Greg was prepared to put us on fish. I was severely underprepared. I had a couple rods, one I set up Skinner-fluke style, and the other for porgies, which were on the menu today. However I had no porgy rigs. I had some hooks and a couple peanut butter sandwiches. Alex hooked me up with a high-low porgy rig and I promised to try not to lose it. After some early queasiness by Chase and myself—honestly I don’t know what I was doing on a boat or any other vehicle I myself wasn’t driving since in my old age I seen to get motion sickness all the time—the fishing was on! And it was a porgy massacre! The pics (by Alex M., Scott, and me) will tell the story of 150 porgies.
Join us next time!