I was grieving on February 9, 2010.
Want to know why? Because I love Discovery Channel's Deadliest Catch, and most of all I love(d) Phil Harris. Few moments in reality tv make my heart swell like hearing Captain Phil shouting profanity from his nicotine saturated chair.
"I love you, too! Now get the (bleep) out of my wheelhouse!"
Oh, how I'll miss him and his tender, fatherly words of wisdom. Anyway, the tragedy didn't seem real earlier this season because Phil was still nervously chain-smoking away in his stained sweat pants and faded black concert t-shirts at the helm of the Cornelia Marie. After his final tribute episode last week, my sorrow is finally setting in.
In honor of his final episode, my dad and I held a makeshift memorial for my beloved Cap'n with a crabby party. We enjoyed oodles of crab legs, both King and Opi (and now you see my sophisticated Catch lingo.) We let everyone else in the family come, too, even though they aren't on our weekly conference call to dissect the interesting parts after each episode.
Bug isn't allowed to eat crustaceans yet, but she wanted to.
I generally dislike that Captain Keith, but if you ask if he made me cry in the finale, I might have to admit it. I did. A full pot of crab at the bottom of the sea forever for Phil to come back to? C'mon! What choice did I have but to cry? I have a heart!
There is an empty hole in my Tuesday night. Goodbye, Phil. Fare thee well.
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