AS SEEN IN THE MARCH/APRIL 2006 ISSUE

As a full-time, professional charter captain who has spent more than two decades fishing Florida’s famed West Coast, I’m convinced I’ve seen it all. Don’t think so? Then read on, because I am about to share a story of one of the most interesting, and I might add, most enjoyable trips I ever had. It was with a group of …well…I believe they were called Trekies. For those of you who grew up on Mars and don’t know exactly what a Trekie is, listen closely.

Though I believe a variation of the show still airs today, there once aired an original sci-fi television series titled Star Trek. I am not sure why, but Star Trek somehow gave birth to an entire society of the nation’s most dedicated fans, fans who were soon dubbed “Trekies.” I knew these guys were Trekies because the leader of the gang who booked the charter a month earlier, went out of his way on three different occasions to tell me so. At the time, I didn’t think much of it.

I met the four at the marina right on schedule and after brief introductions, proceeded to load the boat with the entourage’s coolers and gear. I guess I sort of expected to see a group of guys with pointy ears making funny gestures with their fingers or something, though they appeared quite normal, and oddly enough shook my hand just like everyday civilians.

We pushed off and headed straight for the Sanibel Bridge. Once clearing the overpass I throttled up to get the boat on plane, which is exactly when and where the fun really began. "Warp speed ahead captain" shouts one of the anglers.

From that point on, it was one Star Trek recollection after another. Like when two boats crisscrossed at a safe distance directly in front of us and the shortest of the group jumps to his feet and screams, “Activate the force field and commence photon countdown!” 

I was really starting to think we were never going to make it to the fishing grounds without causing some kind of intergalactic war. Luckily for me, during the entire twenty-mile journey to our first destination, I was provided a detailed education about their out-of-this-world organization. At one point in the conversation when the head Trekie explained just how special the group was, I blurted "Well then may the force be with us!"

Suddenly, they all abruptly turn towards me and simultaneously start chanting, “Herbert, Herbert, Herbert”. I instinctively asked what in the world they were doing and was quickly informed “May the force be with you” was a quote that was not associated with their organization or their personal beliefs. They went on to add that “Herbert,” was slang for total geek! I couldn’t help but giggle out loud as I muttered to myself, “If this isn’t the Klingon calling the Wookie ugly, I don’t know what in the world is.”

Finally, I brought the boat off plane and began searching for the perfect spot to start our day. Within minutes of anchoring, all four Trekies had the bite going strong. For the next 90 minutes, they couldn’t do anything wrong and had nearly reached their snapper limit. What’s even better, in the heat of all the action not a single quote from the television series was made. There is a God!

These guys were really starting to impress me with their angling skills. They never got rocked-up, never busted a leader, and never popped the hook on a single fish. I was amazed! Was there really a bigger power at work here? Not only did they bait their own hooks, they actually unhooked every fish they caught and when they were through, they even put the rods back in their rightful places.

As the morning progressed, I decided it was time to leave some snapper for the next group and make our way out to a favorite grouper hole. On the way, they felt the need to tell me more about their club and how the general population mistakes them for being something they’re not. I thought to myself, “Yeh, you guys are total whack jobs!”

There was also plenty of talk of some big convention that was about to take place in Las Vegas. I didn’t say a single word for fear of being called a total geek again. Shortly thereafter, we arrived at our designated grouper grounds and I went with the task of carefully positioning the boat for our first drift. An uncomfortable few minutes went by without a single hit. I could feel an uncertain ease in the air, like I was going to be sent to the brig or get the Vulcan Death Grip handed to me. Suddenly, the uncomfortable silence was broke with the words, “Hey, I think I have something.”

Simultaneously, the three others yelled “Me too.” I immediately deployed a buoy to mark the spot. What a mistake that was! For the next two hours, we were constantly hooked up to at least one fish, and with each and every fish, in unison the four all hummed one song which I have never even heard before, over and over and over and over again. I was later informed the song came from an episode where Spock and Capt. Kirk were arguing over a girl. “Oh that’s right, I remember that one!” 

About an hour into the steady fishing, a single boat approached from off in the distance. The guys appeared worried that they would have to share their fun. As the vessel approached, one of the anglers yells, “Engage the cloaking device!”

Just as quickly, the boat changed course and flew right by us as if we weren’t even there. Looking back now, I’m sure his navigational equipment must have picked up some kind of disturbing interference. In celebration of their success, my-out-of-this-world crew proceeds to start downing Romulan Ale as fast as they could pour it. “Romulan Ale?” I asked.

It looked exactly like beer to me but I wasn’t about to say anything. By now the Trekies really had their act together and I wasn’t about to stop the hilarious charade. Finishing the once case of beer I permitted the four to bring, things really started to get a little weird. One of the guys was actually trying to “mind meld” with one of the small grouper to find out were his big brothers were hiding. I don’t if he was trying to brainwash the fish or the other way around. One of the other guys kept asking another for bait. He kept responding, “Dam it Jim, I’m a doctor not a master baiter.”

After soar arms and plenty of laughs, we decided it was time to head back to port. During our journey things were pretty mellow as the Trekies all reflected on the day’s journey. I recall thinking to myself for a group that was completely out of the ordinary, the trip really turned out to be pretty down to earth. I can’t wait to see how Saturday’s trip turns out. I have a group of three young women booked who claim they recently won 1st, 2nd, & 3rd place in an official Pamela Anderson Look-a-Like Contest.     

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