The Mike Turner Letter Volume 1 | Page 6

for position , so they could make a run down the line with their gill nets to capture fish as they swam up the bay . However , boats that accidently ( or intentionally ) went over the line were slapped with huge fines , often well over $ 10,000 . So the jockeying on this line was intense and aggressive — hence the extra armor around our vessel . Others had the same protection , and we needed it , as it became a huge game of bumper boats on the ocean . We could be lined up to make our run on the line , and a boat would come at us ( full speed ) and intentionally ram us out of position . We deckhands would be busy working the nets , and the captain would scream that we were about to be hit , so we could hold on to something in order to avoid flying out of the boat .
It truly was like the Wild West . I saw guys with shotguns threaten other captains from the bows of their boats . I saw boats band together like gangs and use their numbers to block other vessels from approaching the line . This , of course , sent my captain ’ s anger through the roof , which led to him ramming boats for no reason and having other boats force us over the line , which led to us getting fined , and more screaming frustration directed at me .
I couldn ’ t believe the Coast Guard and Fish and Game would allow such crazy behavior , but they did . They just sat there and watched for someone to go over the line so they could rush in and fine them .
Some days we fished when everyone else went for cover . The wind blew up waves in that shallow bay that were more ideal for surfing than for boating . The waves got so big and tall that our flat-bottom boat slid down them like a surfboard and hit the ocean floor hard . I remember holding on for life in the back of the boat , calculating how I would get to the other end to retrieve my survival suit when our captain inevitably sank or rolled the boat with his bad judgment .
I ’ m telling you this story 20 years after the fact , which means I survived — just barely , I think .
I wondered if I would eventually crack under the constant criticism and lash back at my captain . I was convinced that would lead to one us being murdered aboard the ship . Every day on that boat I daydreamed about how I would lash out at him for the verbal abuse he was throwing at me . Those daydreams may have been the only thing that kept me from actually doing it .
After six or seven weeks , my 160 pound frame was down well below 140 . The captain , finally feeling defeated , said he couldn ’ t pay me , especially if he kept both of us deckhands on board . So he dropped me off on shore , and I caught a floatplane out of there . I remember getting to Anchorage , sleeping in the airport , reeking to high heaven , I ’ m sure . I had a ticket to get home , but I was leaving two weeks early .
The next morning I checked in for my flight . The gal at Alaska Airlines was almost finished checking me in when she said , “ Oh ! I need to charge you a $ 35 change fee for this ticket .” I looked at
her with disbelief . I didn ’ t have any money with me . ( This was before I had credit cards and bank accounts .) I hadn ’ t eaten anything except airline peanuts in the past 24 hours . She said she couldn ’ t allow me to fly without paying the fee . I almost broke down right there in front of everyone . I felt so close to escaping the nightmare and finally going home .
I found a payphone and tried calling my parents , but they were both at an education seminar in California . I tried calling some family friends but couldn ’ t reach anybody .
I went back to my chair to figure out what in hell I was going to do , when an idea popped into my head . The gal from the airline had nearly finished checking me in when she remembered she was supposed to charge me for the change ticket . I wondered if another check-in agent would overlook it like she almost did . There were five airline staff checking people in . So I decided to change my clothes , put on my hat , and get back in line . It looked like I was queued up to get the same gal as last time , so I let some people go ahead of me . I ultimately managed to get another agent . I hid my face the best I could from the gal two computers down .
It worked . This agent didn ’ t ask me to pay for anything and gave me a boarding ticket . I practically ripped it from his hands and ran to my gate . I was going home . ( The airline food that day was the best I ’ ve ever tasted .)
The funny thing is , I don ’ t regret taking that job . I ended up losing money , as my ticket to get up to Bristol Bay cost more than I was paid . I was certainly relieved to get off that boat , to not work for that jerk anymore , to go home , to nurse my injured body back to health . But I look at that experience the way a runner thinks about his first marathon — the race may have almost killed him , but he finished it . He survived it .
I think about that job often when I ’ m going through a tough situation . Whether I ’ m dealing with someone who ’ s being a total jerk to me , to a family member , or to an agent in my office . Lots of things can get under my skin , like when I ’ m traveling somewhere and my flight gets delayed or cancelled . However , no matter the scenario , it ’ s never as bad as any day on that boat .
We ’ ve all had tough experiences . I ’ m sure you can think of many you went through . Do you believe they helped shape the person you are now ? Did it make you more resilient ? That doesn ’ t mean you want to repeat it or recommend it to anybody else — but it is part of your identity . I guess that ’ s why I share my stories with you . They are part of my identity , and help explain how I ’ m wired and how I think .
Plus , it ’ s fun for me to share my stories . Like how I had lunch with famous actress Penelope Cruz . Or how I got to play a real-life Indiana Jones in the jungles of the South Pacific . But you ’ ll have to wait for future newsletters to hear those . n
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