In the fall of 2000 we all went up to Marin for a friend's bachelor party. To the disappointment of some, it was a fishing and camping trip, though we did buy a copy of Playboy at a gas station in Mill Valley.

We boarded the boat at around 6 in the morning and pulled out of the Bay and into the ocean in time to see the sun rise. Steven was in a good mood and was already telling people what to do.

Not long after we'd gotten far enough out to cast our lines, Steven started pulling in fish. Despite his badgering back at the dock, I didn't take any motion sickness medicine, and it wasn't long before I started feeling queasy. So I spent most of the trip watching, drinking beer, and throwing up over the side of the boat. The fish kept coming to him, one fat silvery salmon after another. By noon I'd watched him pull in four or five. Somehow I did manage to catch a little 10-inch rock cod for which Steven gave me all sorts of grief: "Is that even legal? Throw it back in." and "We can cut it up and use it as bait."

Later that night we camped up on the Sonoma coast. Steven and I shared a tent. I remember waking up in the middle of the night all smoky and cold and slightly hung over. But Steven was in his element -- by the ocean and under the trees - blissfully snoring away.

The next day we drove back to San Francisco and grilled some of the salmon. It was excellent.

-Sooyoung Park

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