LET THEM EAT CAKE
So, I'm still down here in Palm Beach, trying to keep from getting overheated and dodging insults from up north. Case in point, Sharon at The Nantucket Independent office referred to me as a "poor baby" when she heard where I was. But I think she was being kind of sarcastic when she said it. My beloved editor, Shep, wasn't so ambiguous. He just called me a bum.

But the thing is, it's not all fun and games down here. I realize that a lot of you might have some bad information, so Uncle Andrew is here to clear up a few misconceptions. First and foremost, this "vacation" of mine is actually quite a bit of work. I mean, people in Palm Beach aren't the coddled, spoiled crowd you might imagine. For example, people here are actually expected to drive their own cars every once in a while. And if you can believe it, Jill and I have to squeeze our own orange juice for breakfast - I even cut a finger this morning, thank you very much. And some people down here - pity the poor souls - actually have to walk their own dogs.

Oh, the humanity.

As I said, it's not all fun and games, but every once in a great while, I like to live by the old mantra: "When in Rome, do as the Romans." So, using that logic, I'm thinking it's rather apropriate that, when in Palm Beach, I do as the Palm Beachites. And nothing says letting someone else do the work like going out on a chartered fishing trip.

Caption - SHEP

In what can only be called an insult to my intelligence, these people actually expect me to write my own segues, too.

Given that I'm in a strange place - a fact that is true on many, many levels - I didn't know of any fishing boats, so I started with the Internet. There are a whole bunch of fishing charters in this area, so I started big. I looked into a deep sea charter - sailfish and sharks, the whole deal. Two grand. Very nice. For those of you out there who have fancy things like expense accounts, knock yourselves out. (Incidentally, Shep, now might be a good time to discuss that whole American Express Card for the fishing columnist thing. That is, assuming you've stopped laughing from the last time I brought it up to you.)

So the overnight fishing trip to the Bahamas was out, but I was not to be deterred. I moved on to the group-charter boats. Again, there were plenty of options. These are a little less high-tech and a little less intense, geared more towards the bottom-fishing crowd (not to be confused with the bottom-feeding crowd, though occasionally the two do intermingle). Four hours on a boat, letting somebody else do the work while I just hang out with a rod and a line in the water? And all that for sixty bucks? Now we're getting somewhere.

I finally picked a boat from the many listings in the yellow pages - the Madson Fishing Charters. They didn't have the fanciest ad or the coolest website, but they did mention that they took a maximum of six people at one time, which is nice. That way, with two crew members, you're pretty assured of getting any help you might need. And after all, help is the name of the game here. And suffice it to say, they did not disappoint.

I showed up at the dock at the preordained hour, and together with four other anglers - all of whom, incidentally, were repeat customers, which I took as a good sign - we headed out into the Atlantic. Rods are rigged for you; bait is attached for you; fish are brought into the boat for you. A couple of kingfish, a yellowtail snapper and a grouper later, I'm back at the dock letting the first mate fillet my fish while I bask in the glory and fend off the hungry pelicans. Spoiled? You bet your backside, friends and neighbors, and I'm loving every minute of it.

Now I hate to admit it, but there are a few people down here who see us Nantucketers as kind of the spoiled crowd. And you know what? I'm discovering that there are worse things in the world than a little self-pampering. So next time you're feeling stressed-out and frazzled, hire a captain and let him do the work for you. There are literally dozens of boats you can choose from. If you're looking for a recommendation, stop in at one of the tackle shops and ask them. Barring that, walk around the docks and ask people down there. It's tough to go wrong, as all the folks offering their services on Nantucket waters are supremely qualified, and excellent anglers to boot.

Now if you'll excuse me, I need to get back to this mango as I sit on the beach. These people actually make me chew my own food, and believe me when I tell you that it takes a concerted effort.

Tight lines. I