Jobs

Fed Up with the Cameramen

posted: 07/21/15
Amy Diary 4
DCL

"Once a sailor, always a sailor. The savor of salt never stales."

Jack London

If the cameramen ask me one more time about my love life, I'm going to take the camera and smash it with the "Freddie hammer," before throwing it overboard. "Take it out of my crew share," will be the simple reply for that one. It was January 22, who knows how long we've been out here at this point, and I was feeling anything but my normal vivacious self; but miraculously, I was still 'killin' it,' or at least said the hat that I was wearing.
I was standing next to the guys on deck, but I felt isolated and regretful of my choices throughout the last several months. I still missed him. I needed to get my head in the game: this is the last place on earth where you can hide your transparency. The deck of a crab boat, on national TV. The cameramen continued to ask me on almost an hourly basis if I was going to quit, which undoubtedly was a contributing factor to my bitchiness on that particular day as well. "Amy, so, do you think you are still capable of doing this job? Earlier you mentioned that your hands are swollen. Can you look into the camera and tell everyone how much pain you're in?" "There are times throughout each day on here, that I literally fall over from physical exhaustion, and I don't know whether to puke, cry, or say a Hail Mary first, but at least now I know when or how badly the episode will be, gaging by how violently my knees and hands shake, not to mention, how distorted the images around me become, so I guess you could call that a silver lining." I knew the amount of energy I was expelling on deck far exceeded my caloric intake, and it seemed the more I tried to act untouchable, the weaker I became--there was no pretending I was fine. I'd never been more sick or more battered and swollen in my entire life."I am so f***** up, and not in a good way either. What a pitiable situation," I'd think as I continued to cough up blood while working the rail. "I'm at the rail though. I'm landing pots on the mother f****** Wizard while being filmed for one of the most popular reality TV shows of all time, as one of only a couple women crabbers ever in history. So suck it up, Tough Girl. You've got this s***."

We'd just finished hauling a string, and I had just finished another cold, wet, and miserable shift. "If you don't mind, I'd like to be left alone!" I snapped back while slamming the door in Matt's face after he made a snide remark about my sluggishness on deck. "Jesus f****** Christ! Can't a girl get some mother f****** privacy around here!? All I'm trying to do is slip into something cozy that isn't soaking wet with sweat, salt water, and cod slime, and no, NO you cannot film me hanging up my bras again, so don't even ask!!!" It was the end of yet another long shift for me onboard the FV Wizard, and Matt the cameraman was pushing my buttons. I was turning into a force to be reckoned with as the b**** from hell and he was beginning to get a taste of my tide-like temper. "Come on Tough Girl, you signed up for this. Just let us do our job, and we'll leave you alone. All you have to do is open the door and talk to us." "No, I most certainly will not open the f****** door for you guys! All you want is for me to tell you how f***** up crab fishing has made my body is and how f****** pissed off I am at Tyler. Who f****** cares if you want me to reenact something he might've said hours ago?! All I did was call him on it, & tell him I'm f****** sick and tired of him and Rob making fun of me all the time." "It will only take a minute." "If it's only going to take a minute, then you can take that 60 seconds, and shove it right up your ass, because I'm tired, but mostly tired of answering your stupid f****** questions, so leave me alone!!!!" It was made quite clear to everyone that that was entirely the wrong thing to say to me. I was well beyond the point of reason, and stubborn as hell.
I could hear the guys talking about how difficult I was being before they walked away. "Ah yeah. Now I can finally get some sleep!" I thought while getting all snuggled up in my sleeping bag. If only I'd known how short lived that feeling would be. Then the knock at the door came.

Right as I was about to fall fast asleep, I hear a knock that wakes me and instantly triggers a rage I've only experienced a couple times before in my life. But...luckily, it was just my captain this time. "Amy, its Keith. You, uh, you left you're mic on," he says while beginning to laugh. "I know you're tired, but if you just give them what they want for the show, they will leave us both alone." I crawled slowly out of my bunk, and limped towards the door, barely even able to answer back to him as I coughed up even more blood. "Damn it! Thats the second time I forgot I had my mic on! The first time was the other day, when I was singing Duran Duran in the bathroom!" There Keith was, with a priceless grin on his face as I opened the door to check if the coast was clear. One look and I busted up laughing right along with him. "I had no idea they were so desperate for footage of me looking like s*** and saying it aloud, that they'd bug you too!" "The film crew is waiting for you in the galley Tough Girl," he said, as I rolled my eyes at him. Just then, Matt peaks his head around the corner overlooking the Cave. "Fine. You win. What in the f****** hell could you possibly want to talk about now?!"

Keep on keeping on.

The infection from my sliced up finger was now beginning to take over my entire body, which was overtly obvious by how much my extremities were swelling. It was day 11 into the trip, and my hands were so swollen Roger had to give me a couple pairs of his size large gloves, because mine no longer fit. Neither did my Xtra-Tuffs, which I had actually contemplated just leaving on because my feet were so swollen. Any sense of self pride had long gone out the window by this time, especially when the guys told me my hands were so swollen that they looked like they belonged to someone who was morbidly obese. "Thanks, guys." I said while opening another new bottle of Ibuprofen and literally pouring it down my throat. "You sure know how to talk to the ladies!" Even though I was beginning to resemble some washed up, haggard, version of my normal self, and definitely not Miss Bering Sea 2015, I continued to run up and down that icy deck to keep up with the guys. This in itself is quite the task, carrying 30 pound bait setups in either hand..on a boat that's riding in the ditch by the way. I was beginning to think Monte was right. I would be able to do a Women's Fitness Magazine cover shoot by the end of this fishery. If I survived that is.

I decided to get off the boat and seek medical attention after we offloaded, whenever that may be. So I must've been super torn up, because for me to actually go to a doctor means that it's pretty much a life or death situation in the first place. I was finally coming to terms with reality, and the way that God had created me. I will never be physically strong enough to lift the shots of line onto the pot that weigh as much as me, or hook the pot up to the crane without Soper lowering the launcher each time. I looked down at the bait I was stuffing into the jars and I shook my head while playing the conversation I had had with my Father at the fuel dock in Dutch over and over again in my mind. "Just being out here shows more about my character than anything." A few days later, my hands had taken on a purplish hue, before finally becoming numb. Let's be honest, I was now saying my Hail Mary's on the half hour.



Check back in next Tuesday to see how I made it through the rest of the week.

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