Somethings Fishy
Photo by Fengyou Wan on Unsplash
What is that smell?
When my friend MJ invited me to join her and her husband, Mike, on their boat, I was thrilled.
Mike drove the boat across the harbor. I sat in the back on the left, and MJ sat on the right.
It was a sunny day without a cloud in sight. The sky was royal blue. A lovely match to the dark blue ocean. The scenery was so calming and peaceful.
Seagulls and pelicans flew overhead. There was even a pack of seals all hunched together on a safe water buoy. It was wonderful.
My serenity was quickly interrupted by MJ.
“Do you smell that?” she asked.
“What?”
“Something fishy…” she confirmed.
“We’re on the ocean,” I rationalized.
“It’s not the ocean.”
“I don’t smell anything,” I offered.
MJ was unconvinced but let it go.
Photo by Starboard Creek on Unsplash
We stopped off on the other side of the harbor. Mike tied the boat to the dock and hopped off to run to the convenience store.
MJ laid across the bench with her head on the right and legs outstretched to the right. She grew more suspicious.
“Are you sure you don’t smell anything?”
I wanted to help, but apart from the salty air and the light fish smell from the ocean, nothing struck me as out of the ordinary.
She checked the little alcoves on the sides of the boat, but there was nothing except life jackets, buoys, and boating supplies.
“Is it you?” I joked.
“No! It’s not me, and it’s not Mike,” she grew weary.
I glared at her.
“It’s not you, either.” she continued.
Still, I gave both my breath and armpits a quick check. Fortunately, all was well.
Mike drove us to his friend’s boat and tied the two vessels together. He joined his friend on his boat, leaving MJ and me alone.
MJ refused to let it go. She sniffed around the boat like a bloodhound. Determination filled her eyes, and she went on a feverish hunt, determined to track down the smell that taunted her. She was like Walter Matthau in Grumpy Old Men.
I left my seat on the bench to grab a sweatshirt. My backpack was in the cabin, which included a bedroom and bathroom.
The bathroom was on a platform and used an accordion door to close. Easily the second most fascinating place I’ve ever peed.
As for the first? Sidebar!
My friend Star loves antiques and all things weird. So it wasn’t a total surprise to discover her bathroom was in the kitchen and the kitchen was in the bathroom.
The shower and toilet were huddled together in one corner while the refrigerator, stove, and cupboards were in the other. Like, the home goods version of West Side Story.
I really wanted to give that room the attention it deserved #socks #sheets
When I turned on “Sink” to wash my hands, she burst into tears.
“I don’t know who I am! Am I a bathroom or kitchen sink?!”
“I don’t know,” I said as she cried in my hands.
“They both think they own me. Neither respects my boundaries or asks what I want. I’m caught in the middle,” she sobbed as I lathered.
“You really are in the middle, aren’t you?” I looked over both shoulders.
“You know that saying? Everything AND the kitchen sink?!?!? That’s me!”
I held her hand-le but had nothing to offer. She was hot and cold and pretty drained. Sadly, I had places to be and people to see, so I was forced to shut her down. Good-bye, Sink, and good luck.
Photo by Alfred Kenneally on Unsplash
After I returned to the cockpit, MJ dismantled most of the backbench, including where I sat on the left.
She clenched her teeth as she worked on taking off the last cushion on the right where she sat. She struggled because the cushion was designed to be removed in a certain way.
MJ was so annoyed that she couldn't be bothered to figure out the proper instruction.
“Do you want help?” I tried.
I prayed she would say no. Not because I didn’t want to help her, but because watching was far more entertaining.
She was determined to yank that cushion off her own way. I leaned back and enjoyed the show.
“GRRRRR-AAAAARRRRRGH!!!!” MJ growled to get the extra oomph needed to rip it off.
The cushion went flying through the boat. I looked underneath, and there it was—a decaying, bloody, lifeless fish that was being DEVOURED by a gazillion little maggots!
“AAAAAAAAAAH!” MJ and I both screamed.
Photo by Robert Gunnarsson on Unsplash
Mike leaped back onto the boat to help.
“What?” Mike asked.
Neither MJ nor I spoke. I reverted from yelling to laughing my ass off. Whereas MJ flailed like a 3-year-old who frantically pointed at the rotted fish.
“Oh…that must have been from fishing the other day,” Mike admitted.
“That was a week ago!” MJ freaked.
“Yeah, must have missed one when we cleaned the boat,” Mike laughed as he threw the fish into the ocean.
My laughing was temporarily interrupted. Several other fish fought to eat that nasty thing. I was suddenly ill and hunched over, praying I wouldn’t vomit over the edge. So gross!
After a few deep breaths, I was fine. The fish mess was mopped up, and the cushions were reset. I sat down and gazed at MJ.
Regardless of her motivation, she was a woman on a mission. She didn’t give up, no matter what obstacle got in her way or what the nay-sayers said.
Her determination was humbling, and I was happy to witness the moment. The boat reached the open ocean, and I sat back and enjoyed the ride.
Subscribe to the Tribe
Sign up with your email address to receive news and updates.
