Bonding Time | My Family Travels
fishing

 “Bonding Time By Dean Morgan”
By Luke Morgan

                In 2008, I graciously took my family on a vacation to Costa Rica, a beautiful little Central-American country where an idiot was not the president.  Here’s a tip for travelers: Do not take your family with you, especially your wife’s mother and aunt.  Especially if the group decides that they want to go to the Pacific Coast, which is seven hours from civilization, and you’re in a car that wasn’t made for six people.  The whole trip I was wondering why I brought women and children along.

                Once we arrived at the Hotel Velero (Sailboat Hotel), I was singing a very different tune.  The clerk at the front desk informed me that there was a fishing boat going out the next morning, and he could reserve it for us.  During my life, I have been blessed to call myself both a sailor and a fisherman, and I have done my best to pass on these rituals to my sons.  In light of this, I considered a deep-sea fishing trip to be an excellent time for some Father-Sons Bonding.  I told the boys, who were Very Excited, and made sure to get them in bed extra-early that night, setting the alarm for 5:30, so we could be at the boat at six.

                The next morning after I awoke early – as usual – I struggled to get the boys up.  Eventually they awoke and  I dragged the children to the beach, and we waded to the boat because, as I knew as an Experienced Seaman, it would crash into the bottom if it came too close.

                Our Fisherman’s name was Freddy, and he and his son quickly took us out to sea.  Once we moved out of the eyesight of my wife, the kids took their lifejackets off, and I pretended not to notice because this was father-son bonding time.  Freddy said something unknown to me in Spanish, which I pretended to understand, and told the kids that we would be fishing for small fish to then feed to the big fish.  Because of my years of experience, I was correct, and we started fishing for the small fish.  My youngest, Nic, promptly hooked a big fish, and I was right there next to him, Just In Case.  He must have read my mind, because he handed me the pole, and I spent the next hour or two engaged in a massive struggle with the Yellowfin Tuna on the other end of the line.  Eventually I caught it, by which time Freddy, Luke, and Freddy’s son had caught inordinate amounts of bait, so we headed off to the “big fish zone.”

                Luke, distressingly, promptly hooked several fish, sometimes more than one at a time, and it took Nic quite a while to hook a fish.  As was the precedent, he promptly handed the pole over to me, and I caught, after a mighty struggle, what was probably the exact same fish as before.  Luke caught a few more fish, as did Freddy and his son, whom I was jealous of because of their intense father-son relationship.

Luke was eyeing the shore, and Nic had conjured a Gameboy and was playing it.  So I told Freddy it was time to go, using Advanced Spanish Techniques.  We eventually reached the shore again, and after my sons had retreated to land, and my wife had looked away, I gave Freddy the contents of my wallet.  He smiled and said something in Spanish, and drove away in his boat.  I was proud, having given my children a Life Experience.

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