Beer Battered
Bill McGovern
With the docks in sight and less than a mile to go, our engine stopped. We all looked at each other and laughed, but the boat would not start. Jimmy jumped in the water to see if he could get her going, yet to no avail. If the boat had died, someone had killed it. Who had run the engines too hard? That rat bastard, Jimmy, that’s who! I did not break it! We started screaming at each other about who had broken the boat. Emotions ran high, as the accusations flew. Both Jimmy and I knew what should be done, but neither of us agreed on what it was. “I’m the Captain!” we both shouted, as the screaming match escalated.
Jimmy tied a life jacket to his waist and jumped off the boat. His plan was clear. He would swim to shore for help. “This is insane; you’ll drown!” I screamed. Jimmy swam a hundred feet, and then stopped. He struggled to get on the life jacket correctly and swam another two hundred feet, fueled on beer and spite. Jimmy finally gave up and bobbed up to the surface like a dead fish. Now was time for my brilliantly stubborn scheme. Everyone in the water, we will swim the boat to Jimmy and then on to shore. Underestimating the affects of the sun, alcohol, and the weight of the boat were all mistakes. We made it to Jimmy, and then almost drowned before realizing we could touch the river bottom. After walking the boat a few hundred feet, we gave up and climbed inside to die. Luckily another boater was passing and towed our vessel to the dock. After a detailed analysis, Charan determined the cause of our breakdown had been lack of fuel. Apparently, we were too inebriated to notice the giant arrow pointing to the blinking E on the dash, or even the extra can of gas for that matter.
All said and done, we made up while driving slowly back to the barracks. In my room, we drank beer in peace until passing out watching Smokey and the Bandit for the hundredth time. I awoke to my empty room, so I killed the lights and cracked open a cold one. After putting Smokey back on, I curled up on the floor. Sometimes I hate how much I love fishing.
Page Fifty Six
