17 min read IT’S APPROACHING 11 A.M. on a humid day in May. Ben Simmons has been out fishing in the waters southeast of Miami since 6:15, his boat pushing away from the marina with a waning crescent still hung in the sky. The 29-year-old has spent most of the morning up on the bow of his 53-foot Scout, casting and reeling, casting and reeling, waiting, scanning. “Any moment, something can happen,” he says. A few hours in, not much has. He caught some bar jack, a wahoo that he’ll keep to eat later, and a mahimahi that was so small it had to be tossed back. So he finally takes a seat inside the air-conditioned enclosure on the deck of his boat and puts his bare feet up. His hands rest in his lap. “There’s nothing there besides what’s underneath,” he says, gesturing at the glassy ocean, when I ask what he likes about fishing. His answers are short at first, becoming more animated the longer we talk.…