Article by Capt. Franky Pettolina
There are certain hazards that are associated with fishing and boating. Running the boat aground in shallow water for example. Or how about getting a hook in your hand. They both suck pretty bad. Getting bit by a fish? Yup it happens. A friend of mine has been attacked by a shark. Actually he has been attacked twice by sharks in his lifetime (all of you shark huggers that spout nonsense about bee sting deaths, lightning strikes and rogue elephant attacks in New York City being more likely than a shark attack can put that in your pipe and smoke it!) The worst inherent hazard of fishing and boating, in my opinion, however, is none of these things. The absolute worst thing is getting puked on!
The old technicolor yawn splattering across you while you are trying to fish is pretty much the most disgusting thing that can happen to a person. Throwing up on yourself is one thing, but when someone else is sea sick and they coat you with their partially digested number three extra value meal is brutal. BRUTAL!!!!
The first time I got yakked on was when I was fourteen years old. I remember it very well. The charter party on our charter boat, “Last Call” that day was a family that wanted to try and catch some tuna. It was kind of rough and the tunas were not biting too good that day. We were getting occasional false albacore bites, but the target species was eluding us. The seas were building throughout the day and even the falsies stopped biting. The father and young son in the group went up on the Flybridge to pass the time between bites and my Dad was no doubt regaling them with tales of fishing in Mexico or recounting how he singlehandedly wiped out a majority of the sand tiger sharks in the Delaware Bay. Even back in those days I knew these stories word for word, so I stayed in the cockpit and propped myself against the base of the Flybridge ladder to ride out the rest of the day.
I am not sure whether it was the story about how he saved a group of tourists trapped in an elevator in Acapulco with only his pocket knife and ingenuity, or possibly the story about the big sand tiger that sank the floating dock and tried to swim back to the bay from the Cohansey River, but one of Dad’s yarns made quite an impression on the youngster up in the bridge. The young man actually turned green with envy….well he started to turn green at least. Little Ralphy started asking Dad what it felt like to get seasick. And then he asked where he should go if he had to throw up. Not wanting a mess to be made near his helm station, Dad directed the young man to throw up over the side.
The boy got up and started to make his way to the rail on the side of the bridge. The ocean and the boat teamed up and changed his plans though. Little Ralphy only made it as far as the opening at the top of the bridge ladder. Being the skilled captain that he is, dear old Dad was keenly aware of my location at the base of the ladder and he quickly called out to me.
“Franky!!!!” he yelled. I looked up to see what was so pressing. It sure as heck wasn’t a fish. But before Dad could finish his warning, Little Ralphy made the situation quite clear. Well not really. He made a situation alright, but it was far from clear. It was chunky. And gooey. A goopy mess of what may have been chipped beef at one time, or possibly sausage gravy over potatoes…and it was all over me! I took that one right to the face. I had been slimed! All I could muster up was, “Thanks Dad!”
I broke out the deck washdown hose and proceeded to clean myself and the boat up while little Ralphy came down to the cockpit and finished his business over the side. After that, the day didn’t get any better. No more fish and a seasick kid. I was never so happy to hear Dad give the signal to wind the baits in and head for the barn.
We got back to the dock at Bahia Marina and I helped the family off of the boat. Little Ralphy’s Dad came over and apologized about the mess while handing me my tip for the day. I knew the wad of money was bigger than usual and it turned out to be the second time that day that I was covered in green. Only this time it was pretty pictures of Ben Franklin. He then proceeded to tell me that he appreciated how I handled myself after I was puked on and gave me his business card. He told me that I had a position in his company as soon as I graduated with a degree in some sort of science. Since I was still years away from college and I wasn’t quite sure what type of job had the prerequisite of being good at getting thrown up on, I pitched the card as soon as he left. But I definitely held on to the pictures of Ben Franklin.
To this day I still enjoy getting a handful of Benjamins. And I still hate getting puked on. But at least it is less likely than getting attacked by a shark! Well at least according to my pal Sharkbite it is!
Capt Franky Pettolina is Co-Captain of the charter boat, “Last Call”, owner of Pettolina Marine Surveying, Inc. and multi-term President of the Ocean City Marlin Club.
