The banana curse

There is a widespread superstition in the fishing community that bananas and fishing are a cancerous combination. Some avoid consuming bananas entirely, before and during a fishing trip. Most know to leave the bananas behind on the boat. A few confidently choose to debunk the superstition by intentionally bringing the cursed yellow fruit along for their angling adventure. I certainly believe that you can have an incredible day on the water with some bananas in the cooler, but I now know that the curse always finds a way to create some semblance of chaos.

On a recent group trip down to the Bahamas, I had two firsthand experiences with the curse of the banana. Back to back days of superstitious activity. 

One morning when lunches were being made, I decided to stuff two bananas in my buddy, Henry’s lunch. Tucked under a napkin blanket with a sandwich and chips on top, he would never see this one coming. Henry is no stranger to scheming up pranks of this nature plus he had been in the Bahamas for an entire week before we arrived, so he was the obvious target. 

Giggling over my mischievous prank and scrambling to get my fishing shit together, I took no mind to what may lie within my own lunchbox.

We stuffed our rods under the gunnels , lunches in the cooler and off we went. The day’s plan was to motor a long ways away to the “West side” where the fish were supposedly dumber (they were).

With an incredible morning of fish seemingly everywhere, we staked off for a lunch break. “Son of a bitch.” There sat two bananas in the bottom of the glad container. Was I spared from the curse ?? I mean, we had a killer morning with bad luck seeping from the innocent cooler.

Fast forward a few hours and more uneducated bonefish. I asked our guide, Percy, “so, you ever get stuck out here?” Percy very confidently says, “ No, never.” “Really, never?”, I ask. “Never.” 

The run out to the west side is so long that the guides bring an extra tank of gas to refill for the long trek back. As we’re within sight of home base at the end of the day I hear the motor begin to sputter.

We had ran out of gas. The curse is real. 

The following day was our last day of fishing. I had convinced Emily the night before to each take separate boats for the last day (hallelujah, more bow time). We had new guides and were planning to explore a new area, another long run out to the South bite.

My guide for the day was a character. A lively dude named Douggie with plenty of one-liners and beaming with optimism. Douggie was stoked on the day ahead and even promised a tarpon sighting (no tarpon had been seen all trip). 

The morning was slick calm and hot, by far the best conditions we had been dealt. Douggie was sporting a big grin and humming tunes while we cut through the clear, glassy channel. 

His expression changed and the motor cut to an idle. “You hear that?” Douggie asked. Being the absolute opposite of a motor expert, I did not notice a damn bit of difference in the sound. “The motor is shot. I don’t want to push it, we’re gonna have to stick around here.” I honestly thought for a second that Douggie was messing with me. Then I noticed a subtle, weirdly consistent gasp coming from the motor and realized we were fucked. 

I turned to Douggie and told him of our misfortunes the day before and how I attributed it to the bananas in my lunch. Douggie laughed, turned to the back hatch , pulled out a well-bruised banana and started snacking with a big shit-eating grin. Dammit, Douggie. He then explained that he brings one every day and is a firm non-believer in the curse.

We proceeded to idle around, staying on the flats within a stone’s throw of our motor crisis. Douggie poled me around as we shot the shit and made lemonade (banana-ade?) out of our travel limitations. We laughed, solved the world’s problems and caught some bonefish along the way. 

Moral of the story: bananas are in fact, bad luck. But, life is full of bad luck and shitty circumstances. Why let a fruit ruin your fishing?