By Jess Rego on January 18, 2019
The other evening I was rowing along merrily on a solo shift. It was slow but steady and I had Disney tunes to keep me entertained when out of nowhere my port oar got caught in a particularly aggressive wave. I got punched full force in the stomach, hard enough to carry me back, off the seat and landing in a less-than-graceful heap on top of the hard life raft case.
Cursing Derek (the oar) I lay there a moment taking stock of injuries, making sure I was just bruised. Right as I was about to sit up a huge flying fish leaped clear over the boat, passing right through where my head was only moments before. As if in slow motion the curious creature soared over me, beyond the grab lines and off on the rest of its adventure. I started to laugh.
See what makes this so funny is while I narrowly avoided a fish in the face, Susan is having decidedly less luck. For five nights running she’s been visited by them. Sometimes while rowing, or clambering along deck…. even while on the bucket! I’m not sure who is more surprised; susan mid-pee or the suddenly not airborne fish who unfortunately usually flap themselves to death.
After five straight nights we’re starting to think it’s a coordinated attack. That or they have mistaken Susan for a deity that requires a nightly ritual sacrifice. If anyone has pull with the fish community let them know she would rather they stay alive and out of her face.
In other news, Derek is now my favourite oar.
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