It was a gorgeous sunny Saturday on Huntington Beach, California.  The white caps rushed back and forth between the ocean and the white sand.  It was only 10 am and already, the pier was lined with dog-walkers, sight-seers, and families. I strutted excitedly on the boardwalk carrying the fishing-pole while my mom and step-dad trailed behind carrying a large cooler containing dry-ice, equipment, and bait.

To search for our perfect fishing spot, we had to walked until we were near the end of the pier but as soon as we situated ourselves, my step-dad immediately began setting up the equipment.  I could tell he was excited to get started too.  Meanwhile, my mom had situated herself by leaning against the railing and looked out into the ocean, appeared bored already.  Within minutes, the bait was hooked, the bobby was attached onto the line, and I was ready to go.  I gently swung the rod back and cast it out into the ocean below.

With one hand remained tightly gripped to the upper part of rod, I leaned against the wooden railings and waited for the signal of a fish pulling on the hook while thinking about the last time I went fishing.  It was only a few weeks ago but it felt such a long time ago.  Oh, those catfishes were so delicious.  I hope I’d get this lucky again.  I licked my lips as my mouth began to water and then it was the signal.

I snatched the pole and reeled in the line.  I thought it was too easy unlike the last time when I caught a fish because when the line came up, there was nothing hooked to it, not even the bait.  My jaw dropped a little and I was a little disappointed.  I thought there would a ton of fishes in the ocean. Oh well, I shrugged, after all, it was only my first try.

While mom was still standing there doing nothing, we were busy setting up for another go.  This time, I was determined.  I took away the bobby so it wouldn’t be an easy give-away for the fishes and threw the line back into the water.  I kept my undivided attention on the line, fully aware of every sway and pull.  I even refused to blink even when my eyes started to water from the ocean wind blowing in my face.  After some time of staring at the line, my step-dad took over and reeled in the line.  Again, there was nothing attached to the hook, not even the bait.

“Why is this happening?” I asked with frustration.

He smiled sympathetically, “It happens sometimes when there are too many people fishing at the same time.” I glanced down the pier and frowned, the wooden railing was lined with fishing-poles of different size and length like flag poles.

“Maybe you should just give up and come back another day.” My mom pointed out.

“One more time.” I replied firmly.  This time, I hooked the bait to the fishing hook, take a deep breath and mutter, “Third time’s the charm,” and cast the line back into the water.

A short time later, to my amazement, something happened.  Something was pulling the line.  I quickly grabbed the rod and began reeling in the catch.  The line pulled to the left, fighting me.  “Ooh, it must be a big one.” My step-dad said excitedly beside me.

I pulled the reel toward me but whatever it was, it was stronger. Fear of snapping the rod, I began to move to the left shouting. “Excuse me!”  People ran out of my way.  After following the line for a short distance, I finally found out why it was fighting so hard.  It wasn’t a fish I caught, it was an old man and his fishing pole! The old man stood before me, he was twice my size with a white goatee and he triumphantly held his line with a fish right in the middle.

He saw me and was surprised, “Oh, I didn’t see your line.” Then he carefully unhooked the fish and untangled the lines of our fishing poles.  Without another word, he handed me the fish but I shook my head and looked at my step-dad whose face showed none other than surprise. I looked back at the fisherman, “No, it’s yours, it’s obvious your hook caught the fish.  Mine was just along for the ride.”

“Are you sure?” I nodded and he smiled and placed the flopping fish into his cooler as I walked back to our spot.

“I think you did the right thing.” My step-dad said as he put the bait back into the cooler.  I just smiled and said nothing. “Are you sure you want to go?”

I nodded, “Yes, I don’t think I’m getting any luck here.” As we made our way back to the parking lot, I couldn’t help thinking that maybe third time is the charm.

Daily Prompt – History of Language

Originally published as a Toastmaster speech on May 26, 2014

Updated and re-posted on August 10, 2015