Gone Fishin'

Whoever said a bad day of fishing is better than a good day at work was probably not somebody who enjoys their job. Personally, I don’t like nor hate my job – I have good days and I have bad days. Why am I talkin’ about this? Because I went fishing today – an annual thing my family likes to do.

We go to Fortescue, New Jersey – a place that has named itself “The Weakfish Capital of the World.” With a nickname like this, one would expect to maybe catch some weakfish on a fishing trip, and maybe this was the case once. However, thanks to overfishing and commercial fishing, you probably have a better chance of catching a weakfish in the desert. But, I digress.

I woke up this morning at around 4:15 a.m. To give you a little perspective, a few nights before this, I went to sleep about this time (actually, passed out). Birds outside could still be heard snoring … yeah, it was early. I made my way to Wawa to pick up a cup of coffee and a sandwich. My dad promptly picked me up at my house at 5:00 a.m. For most of the ride down to Fortescue, we were the only car on the road – basically, the traffic report on KYW consisted of “Back to our studios.”

We got to Fortescue around 6:15 a.m. – about 1 hour before the boat left. My dad insists on getting there early because he is a freak like that. The captain of the boat was shocked to see customers at such an early hour. But hey, better early than late, I guess.

The water was a little choppy at first, but thankfully it was overcast and not too humid – we went last year, and the bay was boiling … yep, it was a tad hot. In the 7 hours on this vessel, I was able to catch 3 fish – two flounder and one croaker …. All three of which were far too small to keep. It seemed as if everyone else on the boat was able to catch some sort of keeper, which was slightly disheartening to me. I think of myself as a pretty good fisherman, but today I sucked more than the Phillies did in June (hey-yo).

When we came back to shore, the heavens opened, and we were instantly soaked. I quickly cleaned my dad’s fish (yes, even my dad outfished me today – something that probably hasn’t happened since I was 7 … but, I’m not bitter). The ride home was certainly more eventful than the ride down, thanks to the buckets of water repeatedly hitting the pavement.

So yes, this qualified as a bad day of fishing for me. But, you know what? It was indeed better than a good day of work. Ah, those smart philosophers.