I think that’s what they called that National Geographic show I watched last night. Or maybe it was something equally ridiculous like: “Cowboys of the Sea: Combat Fishing.”
Minus the moniker, I’ve gotta admit, that show was received with Super Bowl-like festivity in this little fishing village. While a chunk of the featured fishing fleet took it in at the Pioneer (P)Bar, the smoky vortex into which our paychecks are too often sucked (also featured in all its bell-ringing glory), others in the fleet gathered to watch at the Silver Bay office.
A chunk of us, prepping to freeze all those silvery little scale balls, cuddled up in my HD hermitage – yelling, swearing, reminiscing about last year’s record sets and generally becoming prematurely anxious about the impending tons of herring.
It’s really fun to see people and places you’re so close to featured on a national broadcast. My very loading dock made the footage cut, and that’s pretty fucking cool!
Shown here with my shipping shack
My very favorite forker, Kibby, was shown forklift loading our containers, but there was no sign of us night shift working beasts. Here’s a picture you can just think about when you watch the reairing next weekend.
“Oh hell yes I’m shipping fish to Japan. I am very cold.”
So that was a jolly little chilllaxtivity after one hell of a Saturday night. At a certain point Saturday, I looked around the bar and about half of us were SBS fish workers and very few of had any sheets out of the wind. It’s good to get a big ole bonding drink night under your belts before the herring start to explode, and you can’t do much but make them benjamins and think of your next tropical vacation.
Or not so tropical – I strongly believe I may end up back in Ireland next month. How could I resist when it was so fun last go round? I blame this current urge on a cocktail of Jerome the Gnome Otto and St. Bloody Paddy’s Day (which has the audacity to fall on a Tuesday Busy Tuesday).
Now go to sleep so St. Paddy can come by and leave some beer in your fridge.