Ah, Islamorada.  A slice of tropical paradise in the Florida Keys, famous for its crystal-clear waters, world-class fishing, and the one place where you can legally bribe a fish to leap from the ocean in broad daylight.  Robbie’s Marina.

Now, if you’ve never been to Robbie’s it is where tourists and locals alike gather to feed hulking silver-scaled monsters known as tarpon.  You buy a bucket of bait fish, walk out onto a weather-beaten dock, and dangle fish through the net and over the water like you’re some kind of seafood magician.  In return, a 6-foot-long torpedo with gills launches itself skyward and nearly snatches your arm off.  It really is a once in a lifetime experience.

At least, it should be. I was having a great time until I got jumped by a pelican.

Let’s rewind a bit.

It Started With Good Intentions (And a $4 Bucket of Fish)

The sun was shining, the air was thick with salt and sunscreen, and I had just purchased my bait. I was armed and ready to live the Keys dream. My wife, brother and sister-in-law and myself, made our way out to the dock.  I had my bait bucket in hand and was excited to try something I have only seen in YouTube videos.

Now, the dock is surrounded by nets that help keep freeloaders, like pelicans, from stealing the fish before the tarpon get their shot.  That’s the idea, anyway.  But pelicans don’t play by the rules.  Especially not this particular pelican.

Let’s call him “Chad.”

Chad the pelican had seen things.  Judging by the thousand-yard stare in his eyes, he had probably survived hurricanes, fishing line entanglements, and at least three angry Yelp reviews. He looked like he was on probation, or maybe just off of it.

And he was watching me.

I leaned over the net, ready to feed a tarpon.  One had just surfaced below me, eyeing my bait like a teenage boy eyes a Taco Bell drive-thru at midnight.  I felt the thrill of the moment, the connection between man and fish, and that’s when Chad struck.

The Attack

There was a flapping of wings, a sudden gust of wind, and the unmistakable sensation of being sucker-punched by a beach towel full of feathers.  My hat went flying. My sunglasses? Gone. My dignity? Questionable.

The pelican swooped in like a feathery ninja, snatched the fish out of the bucket in my other hand, and knocked my $150 polarized sunglasses right off my hat with a wing slap that felt personal.  I swear I saw him smirk.

My sister-in-law screamed, a mixture of concern and stifled laughter could be heard by the other tourists on the dock.  She managed to snatch my hat from the edge of the dock just before it joined the baitfish buffet below.  

But my sunglasses? They were gone.

Or so I thought.

Enter: The Manatee

As I scanned the water for my expensive, now-doomed eyewear, something large and gray emerged beneath the surface.  It was a manatee.  A glorious, slow-moving, blubbery loaf of sea-cow serenity.  It glided by with a Zen-like calm that made me forget I’d just been bird-slapped into public humiliation.

And then… I saw them.

My sunglasses.

Resting like a crown on the back of the manatee.

I wish I were making this up. The manatee, who I’m going to call “Murray,” was swimming off with my expensive sunglasses resting on his back.

I called out to him.  “MURRAY! PLEASE!” But Murray was having none of it.  He continued his aquatic swagger, slowly paddling away, looking cooler than I ever had on land.

People on the dock noticed the commotion and were laughing and probably taking pictures. I was now officially part of the entertainment.  My brother said, “It looks like you need new sunglasses.”  I had to resist the urge to dive in and retrieve them, but I knew I would only be arrested for manatee harassment, which, by the way, is a federal offense.

I was left bleeding when I pulled my left hand out of the pelican’s mouth, lost a $150 pair of sunglasses, bought a cheap pair of twenty dollar glasses and quietly left Robbie’s.

To pour salt in my wounds, one of my friends back home asked if there were two little kids wearing swimsuits selling used sunglasses at a table nearby.

I learned several lessons that day.

1. Never trust a pelican no matter what his name might be.  He’s probably on his third strike.
2. Always wear a hat with a strap and sunglasses that float, or better yet, bring backups if you’re going anywhere near flying dinosaurs.
3. Feeding tarpon is not for the faint of heart. It’s like putting your hand into a wriggling lottery machine where the jackpot is an adrenaline rush and the booby prize is being attacked by a large bird.
4. Manatees are effortlessly cool. I’ve never felt more irrelevant than watching my sunglasses ride off into the sunset on the back of a sea potato with flippers.

The sunglasses were never seen again. I like to think that Murray the manatee still wears them occasionally, maybe during seagrass parties or when he’s trying to impress the lady manatees at the reef.  He earned them, after all.  He didn’t steal them, he received them.  Like a weird underwater knighthood.

Final Thoughts

If you ever find yourself in the Florida Keys, make time for Robbie’s. It’s unforgettable and not just for the tarpon. It’s for the chaos, the feathered delinquents, the surprise marine fashion shows, and the moments that remind you that the best stories come when you least expect them.

Just don’t wear expensive sunglasses. And keep your eye on Chad!