I have heard rumors for years. It's the type of yarn that uncles pass down to nephews or the tale that friends will embellish and laugh about over a drink at the bar.

It's a salty tale told beneath lamplight on a creaky pier by a wizened sea dog. My boy, it's the stuff of myths and misinformation.

I speak, of course, of the legendary San Antonio Crabs. But first, we must speak of how I got crab fever.

I am a huge nut for Discovery Channel's “Deadliest Catch.” I fell for its premiere in 2005. Now in the middle of its third season, the series is only getting better.

These Alaskan Crab fishermen are some of the toughest SOBs I've ever seen. They eat and live off a watery misery.

One episode of the new season shows a kid pulling his own tooth out with some pliers in between fishing runs. I didn't even know that's what pliers were for! I bite my tongue and take half a workday.

When I last wrote about this show, I was convinced I could be a good fisherman. I just knew that by watching and then putting on waders and heading to Calaveras Lake, I would be as good as any of these Bering Sea pirates.

I was wrong. First off, I needed a license. To fish? Go figure. So after a night in jail for refusal to “put the crab bucket down and stop throwing fried okra into the water,” I surmised I needed a new plan.

And according to a wet, cigarette-touting, shirtless and tatted shrimp boar captain I spoke with in lockup, there's no crabbing industry at any lakes surrounding San Antonio. But he said I could get crabs in San Antonio if I knew were to look. In fact, he attests to catching butt loads of crabs here.

I chased this rumor, searching out details of these supposed San Antonio Crabs at some of our city's lovelier pay-by-the-hour motels, bars and nightclubs. Everyone I asked directed me to phone numbers in the bathroom.

Were these experts crazy? You need a significant body of water at least 20 feet deep to find crab! There is no such thing anywhere near Broadway and Grayson! I began to lose hope.

Then I met a grizzled old Gorton's Fisherman-looking type while checking a lead at the bus depot. He was waiting for a bus, and oddly enough, watching “Deadliest Catch.”

He looked at me and said, “I know what ye are seeking, fat one. And for $20 bucks, I'll give 'em to ye.”

I know a deal when I hear one. So he led me into the men's room where, sure enough, he opened a great big ice chest and let me choose several of the best-looking Alaskan King Crabs I have ever seen.

So, the next time you are in the mood for crabs, try riding the bus.