Musings by Steve Snow:
My friend Jerry was talking. Jerry used to work for the EPA so I listen to what he says. Six of us were sitting at a Mexican restaurant eating these massive fish tacos they sell for five bucks, they’re huge but hard to cut using the plastic forks they put on your tray. There were Jerry and me and Ryan from down south, Bill and Guy who are both from Eugene but never travel together and Marty who is a commercial fisherman in Alaska.
Somehow we started talking about all the trash we had to step over on the beach after surfing. Bill and Guy thought there was more trash then they could ever remember. Bill said, “You can say what you want but I think it’s all coming from overseas, all these developing countries dumping their trash off shore. They’re just uneducated. “The debris from Japan alone is going to wash ashore for decades.” Jerry said. “I retired in the nick of time.”
“I see lots of spent shotgun shells on the beach. I don’t think they’re coming from Japan.” I said. “What are they shooting at off shore Marty, you’re the fisherman.” Both Bill and Ryan raised an eye brow as they stared at Marty. Marty without looking up from his plate said, “They’re shooting Seals, Sea Lions, pesky birds, Sharks, what do you think they’re shooting at? They’re shooting competitors. Prices are so low you have to get every fish you can.” then Marty got up and grabbed yet another bowl of chips and salsa, pickled carrots and peppers, a whole free meal in itself. “I know China dumps at sea, they manufacture everything off shore on ships then throw the scrap over the side.”
Guy drank the last of his water, crushed the bottle and placed it on his tray nest to another. “Now when is someone going to do something about that?” He said.
“Speaking of China, have you see those new boards down at the shop, called Green Sea something?” Jerry asked, “Four stringers, great graphics and they’re really reasonable.”
“China’s killing the surfboard industry here, killing it!” Ryan said. A vein in his neck pulsed. “Those cheap pop outs sell for less than I can buy a blank!” Ryan used to be our local surfboard shaper, a good one. None of us owned any of his boards but we knew about his reputation. He could diagnose a design problem at a glance and fix it with a touch of his hand. Now he lived down south where he mined metal, windows, doors, anything of value from building tear downs and even dumpsters. He was turning junk into a business and a partnership with a recycle center. He was doing something none of us would bother with.
Then Ryan stabbed his plate so hard he broke the tines of his fork. He laughed – we laughed. He pondered the useless piece of white plastic for a moment. Guy started to get him another. Ryan stopped him and said, “No thanks. It’s not necessary… It’s really not necessary at all.” He dropped the plastic and ate the rest of his lunch with his hands.
We sat motionless watching him when the lady who had taken our orders passed our table. She was struggled with two full garbage bags destined for the overflowing dumpster outside. None of us me included moved from our chairs, not even to open the door.
