Article by Capt. Franky Pettolina
When you work in the charter fishing industry you get to meet all sorts of people. A never ending cast of characters comes in and out of my life on an almost daily basis. Some I get to see year after year. Others are “one and done” and I never see them again. There are days that end with my clients getting off of the boat and we part company like old friends. However, there are some days where I couldn’t tell you anyone’s name or any details about them. Then there are the clients that become part of my “repertoire.” They are the ones that I tell all of my other customers about. These people have done stuff so funny, so dumb, so exciting or just so darn interesting, that I have made them part of the “Last Call” charter experience. And this week I am going to tell you all about one of them. I call him the “Little Guy”.
The Little Guy came into my life back in the mid-90s. My mate and I were doing some boat work on one of our “days off” when this short (like 5-foot nothing), skinny (like 90 pounds), quiet voiced (like “What did you say? Can you repeat that and speak louder”) guy walked up and talked to me about going out on a charter. This is a pretty common occurrence, but what made this guy different from the get go was that he approached me by saying he wanted to book 15 charters and wanted to know how much discount I would give him. The first thought that went through my mind was that this dude was trying to play me and get a deal. What he didn’t know was that I am hard nosed about that subject. My trip rates are my trip rates, whether you go one time or ten times. The price is what the price is. And my boss (I call her Mom… bet y’all thought I was gonna say Dad didn’t ya!) is even more stubborn on the subject. As my Venezuelan friends used to say, “Negocios son Negocios.” Simply put, “Business is Business”.
So I explained to the Little Guy that I didn’t offer discounts and that we were getting ahead of ourselves any way. What if he didn’t like fishing with me? I know I am a pretty darn likable chap, but not everyone sees me the way I see me! I told him that he should book one day to see how it goes, and if he likes fishing with me we could talk about setting up more days. He booked the following Monday.
When Monday morning rolled around my mate and I were waiting in the cockpit of the “Last Call” when a cab pulled into the marina parking lot. Out pops the Little Guy along with another guy and gal. The cab driver went to the back of the cab and unloaded a trash can full of beer. That was it. A trash can, literally a 30 gallon trash can, filled with beer. No ice. No food. No waters or sodas. No snacks. Just beer.
Here we go!
So I helped the cab driver load the beer onto the boat and I debriefed the Little Guy and his friends on what to expect for the day. I told them about the boat, the safety equipment, and what the fishing would be like. Meanwhile Little Guy and Other Guy were drinking beer, and Gal was giving me the old stink eye. When my morning speech was done I asked if they had any questions. Gal looks at me and asks, “So you are planning to kill fish today?”
When I told her yes, lots of them, she stomped down to the forward stateroom in an angry huff and locked the door. The Little Guy and the Other Guy just kept drinking their beers. So off we went.
That particular day we went chunking for tunas down at the lump known as the Parking Lot. During the 40-mile boat ride to get to The Lot, the soothing hum of the boat’s big diesel engines, or the quantity of beer consumed, got the best of the Little Guy and his buddy. When the anchor line came tight and we started fishing they were both passed out, sound asleep.
Bluefin tuna regulations are an ever evolving and devolving mystery to me. At the time of my first trip with the Little Guy, the National Marine Fisheries Service felt that one bluefin tuna, from 27-inches to less than 73-inches, per person on the boat, was the best use of the resource in the recreational and charter fishing communities. So after some quick ciphering on my part, remembering to include my fish-loving lady friend locked in the forward stateroom, my mate and I knew that our goal was five bluefin tunas in the fish box.
So we started cutting up butterfish and working hooked baits out behind the boat. In the first few minutes we had hooked up a triple-header! I was holding a rod with line screaming off the reel. My mate was holding a rod with line screaming off the reel. A rod holder was holding a rod with line screaming off the reel. My mate and I both tried screaming for someone to come out and catch a fish. The only response we got was the Little Guy coming to the cabin door, looking at us groggily, and saying “Baaaaaaa. I’ve done that before…” And he went back to sleep.
HE WENT BACK TO SLEEP! And Other Guy never woke up. And Gal, well Gal never acknowledged the awful fishing stuff that was going on from the opposite end of the boat.
It took a little while, and it was a little tricky, but my mate and I successfully landed the three tunas. Then we put the rods out one at a time and caught two more. It was around 9:00 AM and we had our limit. I went in to the cabin and shook the Little Guy until he woke up. I explained to him that we had our limit and asked him if he wanted to try and catch some other fish, maybe a marlin or a mahi. His response???? “We have our limit? Oh we better go back in then. Can’t keep fishing after we have our limit.” AND HE WENT BACK TO SLEEP!
So my mate pulled the anchor and we aimed the boat for home. We were back at the marina before lunch time. The ride home must have been even more soothing and relaxing than the ride out, or maybe less so, because both Guys were awake and drinking again, and Gal must have forgiven our fishy stuff a little bit because she had joined them.
Once the boat was tied up, the Little Guy paid me for the trip and called a cab to head home with his friends and the now half-empty trash can of beer. I asked him what he wanted to do with the fish. He handed me money for the fish cleaner and said that he would be back later to pick up the tuna loins. I figured I would never see him again.
But I was wrong! He came back in a different cab a few hours later and took his fish home. Before he left the marina, however, he booked me for twelve more trips. That’s right. Twelve more trips. He said he had the best day he had ever had on the water, and that most captains didn’t like his fishing style.
Thus began my adventures fishing with the Little Guy. These adventures included day trips, overnight trips, court room trips, all sorts of trips. How did Jerry from the Grateful Dead put it? What a long strange trip…. Maybe I will tell you more about the Little Guy another time. After all, it wouldn’t be fair of me if I didn’t share his roast beef for marlin bait rigging technique with the rest of the world.
Capt. Franky Pettolina is Co-Captain of the charter boat, “Last Call” and President of the Ocean City Marlin Club.
