How My Wife and I Cought Crabs On Our Honeymoon - Scotch and Soda

When my wife-to-be Kathy and I were planning our honeymoon, she read a magazine article called, "The Five Most Romantic Places In the World To Go For a Sex-Crazed Getaway", or something like that. The closest one was Wild Dunes, on Isle of Palms, South Carolina, near Charleston. We went there.

And it was sooo romantic. We had a condo on the beach with a deck on the roof where we could go and it was just the ocean and the sky and us; no one knew or cared if we even had any clothes on.

It was a barrier island. And on the inland side was a beautiful wetland. We got a guide in a rowboat to take us on a tour of the wetland. He showed us, among other things, how to catch shrimp in a net. I was thrilled. I had read an article in Sing Out magazine about local folk culture with a picture of a boy throwing a net out exactly the way I was doing it there. Wow! Then he told us how to catch crabs. He said we could buy the nets and bait at the little store on the dock.

The next day, we went crabbing. At the little store, they sold us frozen chicken for bait. We were skeptical. But they assured us that it was the crabs' favorite thing. I had visions of crabs scuttling up on shore by moonlight and raiding the hen house. Carrying away squawking chickens. The farmer chasing them off with shotgun. Pow! "Dang crabs!"

Well, basically, we had to wade into the water in our bare feet, lay the net down on the bottom and put a piece of chicken in the middle of the net. And wait for a big crab to go after the chicken. Mostly, little ones scuttled around our feet and pinched at us and stood there, looking up and waving their claws. "Nyeh nyeh, nyeh nyeh nyeh!"

Eventually we did catch some big ones and went back to our condo to do the Annie Hall cooking scene.

We especially enjoyed going to the piano bar at the restaurant at the resort. It was called Edgar's, in honor of Edgar Allan Poe, whose story "The Gold Bug" was set on Sullivan's Island, Isle of Palms (Then called Long Island) and the area. It was pretty literally a piano bar; a grand piano had a bar built around it, all around the curved parts and such. The woman who played the piano was, we learned, a part owner of the resort. She loved to play the canon of the Golden Age of American Popular Song. I had spent a few years wallowing in this repertoire, along with the classics. (And then everything else.) So we enjoyed evenings, relaxing and talking music between songs.

One night, a little middle aged guy came in, with a somewhat younger attractive woman. He wore thinning hair and a linen suit. She was blond, and wore a dress that said, "trophy bride". The guy was one sheet to the wind already but appeared likely to get to three before long. When the cocktail waitress came, he went on about a certain wine that was the best wine in the world, but not expensive. Did they have it? Yes, they did. And he made a big deal of it when the waitress brought it.

Wineman was getting pretty expansive when the piano player started playing Scotch and Soda. He said, "That's a pretty song. What is it?"

She said, "It's Scotch and Soda".

He said, "Scotch 'n' Soda? There can't be a song called Scotch 'n' Soda."

I piped in, "Oh, yeah. It's Scotch and Soda, alright."

The piano player turned to me and said, "You know it, don't you?"

I said, "Yes." About 18 years before this, I had bought a Kingston Trio song book and learned the song. But I hadn't so much as heard it again until this moment.

"Sing it," she said, She was already playing the intro. I had only a few seconds to take the leap, whether I could recall the words or not. I leapt.

Scotch and soda, mud in your eye.
Baby, do I feel high,
oh, me, oh, my. Do I feel high.

Dry martini, jigger of gin.
Oh, what a spell you've got me in,
oh, my. Do I feel high.

People won't believe me.
They'll think that I'm just braggin'.
But I could feel the way I do
and still be on the wagon.

All I need is one of your smiles.
Sunshine of your eyes, oh, me, oh, my.
Do I feel higher than a kite can fly.
Give me lovin', baby. I feel high.

The guy nearly fell off his barstool. He was gob smacked. While I accepted my accolades, he got the waitress to bring two more glasses and we got to drink some of the world's best wine.

Meanwhile, two younger men had strolled in and sat near Wineman. The one poked the other with his elbow and jerked his head, ever so slightly, toward Wineman. The other nodded. Ever so slightly. And they struck up a conversation with the guy.

After a while, Wineman was swaying on his stool. And one of the young fellows said, "Here's an idea. This is fun. We take turns telling a story and no matter how incredible it is, whoever says, 'that can't be true' loses."

"Yeah," said the other one. "And just to make it more interesting, let's each put up a hundred dollars. We'll let "Frank Sinatra", here, hold the stakes.

I was not sure how he meant that "Frank Sinatra" comment, but I took the three hundred dollars and said, "Ok. I'll be the judge." The two guys took a beat on that last suggestion, but then they accepted it.

Wineman pointed to one of them and said, "Ok. You go first."

"Well," said the first one, "I'm lucky to be here. When I was a boy, I went out in the woods and up to the top of a hill. There was a tall pine tree there, and I thought, 'I bet I could see my house from the top of that tree.' So I climbed way the hell up there until I was at the very top. The trunk was so thin up there it was bending all over the place. I was holding on for dear life and I didn't have the nerve to try to climb down. I was stuck! But just when I thought I'd be stuck there for good, I remembered my next door neighbor had a really tall extension ladder. I just borrowed that ladder and got down out of the tree safe and sound. And here I am."

"Very good," said Wineman. And he turned and looked at the second guy.

Well, the two guys looked at each other and their eyebrows went up. Slightly. Then guy number two launched in. "I'm even luckier to be here. When I was a boy, I was out in a row boat fishing up the river. And I couldn't get a bite. Not so much as a nibble. Other people in their boats weren't catching anything either. I wanted to know why there were no fish. So I dived in and swam to the bottom of the river. There was a huge fish down there. It was so big and ugly it was scaring all the other fish away. So I hauled off and punched it in the snout as hard as I could, and killed it. I figured it was a shame to waste such a big fish, so I built a fire right there and cooked it and ate the whole thing. Then I swam back to my boat and here I am.'

"Yes, yes! Very good!" said Wineman. "Now it's my turn." The two guys eyed the money in my hand. "I own a fruit stand in the historic market over in Charleston, here. A few months ago, a truck was backing up to my stand and when they put on the brakes, a watermelon fell off and broke open. And, the darndest thing! Inside of it were two tiny baby boys! Well, my wife and I had no children at the time, so we kept them and raised them as our own. But, wow! They grew so fast that in just a month, they were two strapping young men. I put them to work at my fruit stand. But after a while, they got interested in women, and not in their work. One day they asked me for a hundred dollars each for a double date. So I gave it to them. And, wouldn't you know, they took off and didn't come home that night. I've been looking for them ever since. And, what luck! I walk in here tonight and here you two are! Pay up."

Their jaws dropped in unison. If they said it wasn't true, they forfeited their money, but if it was true, they each owed Wineman a hundred dollars. I handed the money to Wineman as the two guys shook their heads and got really quiet. After a minute or so, they left. A while later, so did we.

I never saw those two guys or Wineman again. But after 26 years, Kathy and I are still happily married.