We call ourselves the Bonefish Club, but when you throw in a handful of guitars, a ukulele and even a keyboard and jam until all hours — it really starts to feel like an impromptu Social Club, attracting onlookers, dancers and gypsies likes bugs to a porch light. Some of the music even sounded like it came straight off of the Buena Vista Social Club album.
Somehow they all got up early and fished. The Permit seemed to be on strike throughout the bay [a few liars will say otherwise] – shots were had but few were hooked. The Bonefish came to the rescue, reminding us of our real name.