I sit in the boat by myself and look around warily. "I hope nobody sees me here," I think. I look around some more, then I sit, monitoring my surroundings--getting a feel for the place. It looks interesting. "This looks like a good place to try my luck," I think to myself.
I put part of me on the hook. I am the bait.
Without a second thought, I cast my line out--not knowing what I'm even trying to catch. Hoping for something to happen, I check and re-check my line.
Nothing.
I start to get a little nervous. Why am I doing this? If I catch something? Will I even know what to do with it?
Then suddenly I get a nibble. I have something on my line! I alternately reel and pull, and after a few exchanges a beautiful fish leaps up out of the water and shows itself.
It's the wrong type of fish. I don't know what kind of fish it was, but in that instant I saw it I knew it was not for me. What do I do? Continue to reel it in? Cut it loose? Just then the line breaks and I breathe a sigh of relief.
I didn't have to face my catch.
Why did I get this variety of fish? Maybe I used the wrong bait. Should I even be fishing? Yes, I should. I know it's dangerous, but that's why I want to do it. It makes me feel alive. It's against the rules and nobody knows I'm doing it. I look around. It still looks safe for the moment.
I put another hook on my line and place another tidbit of myself out there into the waters and wait. As I slowly reel the line closer to me and the boat I see a fish circling. After just a moment it's joined by another fish, both of them are sizing up my bait. Oh no--they are young fish! I don't want fish that young. Sure, they may be the best fish I ever caught, but it wouldn't be right to hook such a young fish. It's frowned upon. I make my decision at the same time one of the fish lunges at what I have dangling. Instantly, I yank upward, narrowly missing hooking it. Whew. I would never be able to explain why I kept such a young fish. Both wrong and illegal.
Again my mind wrestles with what I'm doing. The thirst for excitement outweighs the wrongdoing. I sigh, change my bait, and cast again.
It floats on the water serenely, nothing taking it. Time goes by and still nothing. I know there are plenty of fish because they've left signs. Maybe the fish don't like the bait I've offered? Perhaps it's too old?
I reel my line in and examine the bait. I try to be objective, but to me it still seems like worthy bait to me. Maybe I just need to embellish it somehow. Make it seem better than it really is. Maybe that's it. I fluff and tease the bait, carefully arranging it until I'm certain I have bait that is irresistible. Yes, it looks more impressive than it did before.
I cast my line again. It no sooner hits the water again when I hear someone coming behind me. Oh no! I have no time to pull the line in, so I quickly drop the pole down on the floor of the boat, hoping no fish hits it while it's still accessible. The boat came out of nowhere when I wasn't paying attention. My heart beating through my chest, I just sit there nonchalantly like I might be sitting on any other day.
That was close--I was almost caught. When the coast is clear I raise my pole and quickly reel it in.
I reach backward and cast my line back out--this time in a new direction.
In no time, a fish starts teasing me. I can feel slight little tugs as a fish sizes me up, toying with me, likely to see what I'm going to do, to see what my game is.
Suddenly, my pole bends and my reel starts spinning furiously. I don't know whether to grab it and try to stop it from spinning or what. This fish has a lot of energy! Do I want to toy with such a fish? After all, I'm getting up in years. I decide that the fish is either very strong, very energetic, or just plain big. None of them appeal to me. I reach into my pocket and grab my pocket knife, and reaching up, I sever the line.
Whew.
I realize I'm probably in over my head here. I'm very vulnerable to being caught, but I think I have anonymity from all the fish below. Or do I? My bait will be dangling out there where millions of eyes can potentially see it, and I really don't know what will latch onto it. And what if it does? What if I do haul in a prize trophy with my trolling? What then? I certainly can't keep it. I wasn't even supposed to be here. Do I just admire it and let it go? If I catch and release, will it hurt the fish? Will the fish forever carry scars of our meeting?
I sigh and resign myself to the fact that I apparently just like being here and dangling my bait. It's off limits and highly dangerous, but that appeals to me. It's also because I like to see if I still have what it takes to hook something.
I must be crazy. Do I want to get caught? Of course not.
I sigh, look around, and start putting a new hook on my pole. Apparently, I just can't stop fishing. It's the excitement, the element of danger. I need it.
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