Straight Off the Plane, Straight Into the Glades
After a full serving of airport nonsense—weather delays, shifting plans, and whatever it is airlines do when they forget how time works—Luke and Bret touched down in South Florida around 11AM. Originally, they were supposed to be boots-on-the-ground the night before at 10PM. Instead, they landed jet-lagged and fish-starved, with zero interest in checking into a hotel.
Taco Bell. Gas station coffee. First cast by noon.
They veered off 41, rolled down a dusty side road, and started chucking tiny soft plastics on light spinning gear. Think crappie-sized swimbaits behind jig heads—simple, twitchy, and just deadly enough.
And the fish wasted no time.
Mayan cichlids (Mayaheros urophthalmus) were hyper-aggressive—so much so that when a few massive Florida bass showed up in one of the ditches, they couldn’t even get a clean shot at a bait. The Mayans were faster, meaner, and absolutely everywhere.
Double-ups on warmouth (Lepomis gulosus). Double-ups on Mayans. The kind of numbers day that makes you forget you’ve been awake since the night before at DFW..
Then, out of nowhere, Bret stuck a walking catfish (Clarias batrachus)—because of course he did. A literal invasive air-breather showed up like it got lost on its way to a roadside puddle. The only thing missing was a soundtrack cue.
Big alligators kept a close watch.
The sun never let up—not a single cloud, not a hint of wind, just full-beam, skin-toasting stillness.
A couple of birders wandered by, quietly counting feathers while soft plastics were getting hammered five feet away.
And somewhere in the middle of it all, National Park officers stopped by for a license check (they were polite, and yes, everything was in order).
All of it soundtracked by the static punch of The Shark, a South Florida alt-rock station that runs on Alice in Chains, Nirvana, Soundgarden, and just enough late-’90s angst to glue it all together. A perfect blend of Bret and Luke’s musical leanings—and somehow, the perfect score for ditch fishing on no sleep.
The luggage was still baking in the rental. The hotel was just a name on a reservation screen.