Lobster Tales, Chapter 1 of a two-chapter story.

My assignment this past week was to procure the fresh lobster meat for my sorority chapter's annual Lobster Box Lunch fundraiser.

I did a dry run last year with our former lobster-procurer: she took me to Portland's Commercial Street, showed me the pier where the lobster wholesaler is located, and in general led me through the paces.

I felt confident as I took on the assignment, solo, this year.

On Thursday my trusty Honda (auto, not motorcycle) and I made our way down Commercial Street. I love Commercial Street. It's lined with little shops and big businesses, sight-seeing boats, numerous restaurants serving the freshest seafood on the planet, squawking seagulls, and fishermen just in from a morning's work on the water. I'd love to have a chance, just once, to see Commercial Street one-hundred years ago. Ken and I have a large framed print entitled "Commerical Street, Portland, Maine, circa 1902." We both love that print and comment often about it. (What intrigues me is that Commercial Street, in earlier times, didn't even exist. The waterfront was farther "up the hill," not far from Congress Street. Commercial Street was built from landfill, in other words.)

I drove past DiMillo's Floating Restaurant and to the first street on the right immediately after DiMillo's. This put me onto Portland Pier. I slowly made my way out to the end of the pier, past Dan Lilley's law office and J's Oyster Bar. As I inched along, I couldn't help but wonder how old the pilings holding up the pier might be and in what condition? The pier is home to numerous buildings and also accommodates several parked cars and trucks. Heavy parked cars and trucks.Thought-provoking. (During unusually high tides, which visit Casco Bay perhaps once a year, Portland's various piers have to be evacuated because they're under water. Thursday was a bright, clear, sunny day, for which I was thankful.)

The last building on the left: New Meadows Lobster, "...live Maine lobsters from the ocean floor to your front door." Or, in this case, cooked, shelled, and packed-in-ice Maine lobster from New Meadows' warehouse to my car's trunk.

Pete met me. Pete told me to be there at 12:00 noon. I'd noted, as I drove to the pier's end, that my car's digital clock registered 11:59. I hoped I wasn't too early.

Pete's my new bff. He's a good guy, hale and hearty, and he didn't expect me to go out onto the lobster boat to do the actual lobstering. For that I was thankful, too.

Pete, however, is perhaps just a smidge too amused by the fact that I call myself a "sorority sister." I guess he was picturing someone nubile and striking. Sorry to disappoint him, but perhaps my generous check for 84 lbs. of fresh lobster meat, strictly knuckles and claws (or "k and c," as Pete calls them), helped to ease his disappointment.

I'd hoped to get a good view of the huge cruise ship docked just behind Pete's company, at the next pier, but I wasn't able to see it from New Meadows. So in place of discussing the cruise ship, I mentioned to Pete that shelling 84 pounds of freshly-cooked lobsters must be extremely hard work because I know, from too-occasional experience, that shelling one Maine lobster is hard work.

Pete agreed with me and said he can't find local folks who are willing to work that hard. Instead, a Korean lady does the shelling for him, and she often brings her entire family with her to help with the task. The lobstering crew at New Meadows starts work at 4:00 a.m., Pete said. He offered to give me a wake-up call on Friday morning, the day my "sisters" and I would make the actual lobster rolls. I declined.

As Pete loaded the lobster meat into my car, I wondered how I could possibly find enough refrigerators to store the containers for the next 18 hours. Pete assured me I was worrying for nothing: the lobster meat, in 2-lb. vacuum-sealed bags, was packed in ice. It would, he insisted, be fine in those styrofoam containers until the next morning. I hoped he was right.

I thanked Pete, left the pier, and headed home, hoping I wouldn't get car-jacked along the way. I was carrying precious cargo, for sure.