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| Thread: Of Moose and Men; The Gootch Goes to Canada |  This thread is pages long: 1 2 3 4 · NEXT» |
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The_Gootch
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Kneel Before Me Sons of HC!!
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posted June 12, 2005 12:45 AM |
bonus applied. |
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Of Moose and Men; The Gootch Goes to Canada
Warning: This thread is intended for a mature reader. If foul or coarse language offends you then you don't need to be reading this. The author recognizes his liability for said language and only asks that what he has to say to not be edited in any way.
The Cast:
Logan (me)
Jeremiah (my friend/boss)
Jim (Jeremiah's father)
Luke (Jeremiah's 22 year old younger brother)
James (Jeremiah's youngest brother. Age 19)
Jeff (Jeremiah's father-in-law)
Prologue:
I confess that when I was approached by Jeremiah for a one week fishing trip in Canada I was ambivalent. That's not to say that I didn't think I could handle his company or that of his family's for one week. It had more to do with my own biases regarding fishing. Fishing to me was the bastion of country boys, rednecks as it were. It was also the bastion of geezers; middle-aged men who toiled in cramped offices for 50 weeks out of the year for the right to enjoy 2 weeks of peace and quiet. I was none of those things.
I also considered the last time I had communed with nature. It was during MCT(Marine Combat Training) some 5 years ago. While it was truly an incredible experience it was not what anyone would call 'relaxing'. I still heard the sounds in my head; the barking orders from crusty sergeants baffled by how quickly we'd gone soft from 10 days of recruit leave. I remembered tromping up what were loosely called hills with such memorable names as Old Smokey, AnkleBreaker, Mount Motherf*cker, and the alltime worst, First Sergeant's Hill. I remember being able to stick out my arm in front of me and touch the very soil my boots were grounded on. In other words, they were frickin steep. So when Jeremiah invoked such words as 'nature', 'wilderness', 'unmarred beauty', and other such catchy phrases used to entice someone who's teetering on the brink of indecsion, I was unimpressed.
But agree I did. I'd always thought of myself willing to try just about anything twice. I became wary of my comfort zone from my time in the military with its utter predictability. And it wasn't just me who was invited into Jeremiah's inner circle. My other coworkers Rocco(the controlling partner of our company), and my friend Shamori(whom I'd konwn for 17 years). Each of us flashed the other a look of panic when the invitation was made but none stepped up to decline it right off the bat.
Jeremiah had gone so far as to buy Shamori and I equipment for this expedition. We each received a bag for our stuff, one box of Lures, a package of gold jigs, a package of super bait, and a package of swivels. Our fishing poles were called 'ugly sticks'. When I first read the dull beige lettering on the pole I waited a heartbeat for the inevitable stupid comment from Jeremiah as to why he picked out those poles. But none was forthcoming.
Rocco was the first to bow out from the trip. He claimed that his son had finals that week and wouldn't be able to make them up. So if his son couldn't go, he couldn't go. Shamori was next. He didn't even have the guts to say he didn't want to go. He just let the deadline pass for the deposit to pass. Not a word was said between them.
So it is at day one that this story will begin. Calling it an adventure of a lifetime wouldn't do it justice. The sights, the smells, the sounds, and watching the inner workings of another family eclipsed even my wildest dreams.
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Consis
Honorable
Legendary Hero
Of Ruby
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posted June 12, 2005 05:55 AM |
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Edited By: Consis on 11 Jun 2005
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Yeah . . .
Brings back memories of my own childhood outings with my Dad. I've done my fair share of fishing and camping. And I'd never have done it without my Dad. We would usually end up standing around doing nothing and watching the other people who came along complain about everything from A to Z. Other people who go on camping trips or fishing trips and hate doing it are always good for laughs. My Dad taught me how to skin a catfish, bass, rainbow trout, and tiny little fish called perch. I also learned how to make 'hobo-dinners', beenie weenies, and raw potato salted slices. And then there was the fishing. Fishing is an odd thing to do in reality but you'll never hear people talk about it like that. They either say that the fishing was 'good' or 'no bites' accompanied with a facial expression. But my Dad and I had more fun skipping rocks than fishing. Everyone always hated us because they thought we were scaring all the fish away. But I didn't care.
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Roses Are Red And So Am I
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Leo_Lion
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Supreme Hero
The 5th Element & 6th Sense!
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posted June 14, 2005 06:27 AM |
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I find that using "super bait" to fish is like using a laser-guided rocket to hunt. 
It reminds me of those darn fishing shows that I used to watch and how frustrated I would get at seeing a "professional angler" pull one huge fish out of the lake after an another. When I finally discovered that, for the sake of the show, the fishermen were using high-powered pheremones to attract every fish from a square mile to his boat...well, let's just say that "the fish bubble had burst"! 
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*The end to no beginning...
*Take care, Leo
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Consis
Honorable
Legendary Hero
Of Ruby
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posted June 14, 2005 06:44 PM |
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Man Oh Man . . . .
You're not kidding Leo_Lion! You and I are much alike. Some of the bait on the market these days are so effective that they're declared illegal in most states. One that comes to the top of my mind is something called 'filament nets'. Other types of fishing bait extremes range in a variety of different kinds of methods and lures. In fact I think in some cases it's even illegal to use corn for bait. It might be for trout but I can't remember at the moment.
Most of my fishing has been for catfish and trout. I can recall fishing for something called "rainbow trout" in the New Mexican mountains of a place called Riodosa. Those were good times I tell yah...good times.
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Roses Are RedAnd So Am I
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Leo_Lion
Honorable
Supreme Hero
The 5th Element & 6th Sense!
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posted June 15, 2005 08:27 AM |
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I'm amazed to hear that there are Rainbow Trout all the way in Mexico! 
That particular fish was bred in Canada to accomodate the harsh winters, so to hear that they are found in Mexico blows my mind! 
I like fishing for Pickerel, because they are usually big fish, and for Bass, because they sometimes jump out of the water when you are reeling them in! 
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*The end to no beginning...
*Take care, Leo
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Peacemaker
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Peacemaker = double entendre
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posted June 16, 2005 09:15 PM |
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Ah hah!
Finally the long-awaited thread --
You guys hang on. This was only the first installment -- the set-up as it were.
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The_Gootch
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Supreme Hero
Kneel Before Me Sons of HC!!
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posted June 30, 2005 06:13 PM |
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Day 1
I'd like to think that I deliberately underpacked for this trip but the truth is that I was too damn lazy to think of the particulars. At the last minute I threw in a couple of pairs of shorts, my old MC sweats, an old sweatshirt, a few bandanas, my old Bates' Jungles, and my hygiene gear. I chuckled to myself as I perused the inventory inside the bag, thinking I might be the only guy I know who'd dare bring exfoliant with him on a fishing trip.
The meeting point for the trip was Jeremiah's father's house. I'd been there once before for Jeremiah's baceholor party a few months back. It was a one story ranch style place out in the middle of nowhere northern Illinois.
Jim, Jeremiah's father, was a blustery, belligerent man whose swearing would put even a sailor to shame. Every other word was f*ck and c*ck. That's the way it is I suppose for the blue collar man. He looked a young 50, having what seemed to be natural brown hair and a slight paunch indicitive of a man who had passed the age of 35.
He consistently was barking orders at the boys. "Put this f*cking cooler in the back of the boat, and don't f*ck the f*cking thing up" and many other permutations of that were snarled by him. This was normal for them. And they dutifully carried out the orders, occasionally swearing back at him. Surprisingly, he didn't seem to mind.
Luke was pale, blonde, and very much a redneck. A former football player and current fireman, he had a size to him that made even me feel small. Oddly enough, his face looked no more that 15. Much of that was due I suppose to the retainer in his mouth.
James was a college ball player enjoying a well earned week of rest from his regimen. At 19, my assumption was that he and I wouldn't have too much to talk about. And I figured I'd have to entertain what I'd predicted to be barely coherent rumblings from him about titties and beer. He had short, brown hair, wrestler's shoulders and an arrogant sense of immortality; a seemingly common trait for young men.
Jim was a mousy man, quiet and frail. He was a semi-retired financial planner who I was told fished some 150 days out of the year. Evidently, this guy was a real pro. Prim and proper, he never uttered a curse and seemed rather uncomfortable in the face of raw language.
While dining on some fast food, we hammered out the final details of where our stops were going to be. Luke and James were going to ride with their father and I was going to ride with Jeremiah and Jim. The trip was supposedly 16 hours so we also hammered out who was going to take what driving shifts.
So it was that Jim was going to take the first shift, 6 to midnight, and I was going to take the 2nd. We gabbed for a few hours and when the conversation started to dry up Jim suggested some music. I didn't bring any with me, nor had Jeremiah.
"Check my collection then." chortled Jim. "I think you'll find it very--ecclectic."
I started scanning his cd case. James Taylor, Pink Floyd, The Guess Who, Bob Marley, The Eagles, etc.
"So, what do you think?" Jim pressed.
"I think you're a refugee from the 70s." I shot back.
He laughed. "60s and 70s." he said with a smile.
I handed over his Eagles' greatest hits. It was then for some reason that he tried to find some way to relate to me.
"So you used to be in the military?" he asked.
"Yes." I replied.
"What branch?" he asked.
"Marine Corps." I said.
"How was it?" he asked. These questions were about as bland as possible so I decided to spice my resonse up.
"Pretty good I guess. People asked me what I did during the great war to stay alive. I told them 'I packed my bags and moved back into the barracks." I said with a laugh and a smirk.
"huh?" was the collective response from both Jer and Jim.
"Nevermind." I said.
I was wondering if he was going to be one of those apologists... one of the ones who feel compelled to explain to me why they didnt' serve. I noticed this more among northerners than southerners, mainly because the majority of southerners have served. It's rather strange to bear witness to it from my perspective. I wonder if I give off an air of judgement towards those who didn't serve. In any event, it's not like I'm really proud to have served during a time of active american imperialism.
"My dad was in the army." he said. "World War II. He was in the 101st airborne back when it was newly formed. One of his favorite stories was during the battle of the bulge and Patton busted into Bastogne. Patton claimed he'd rescued the 101st. 'I'm sorry' my dad always said. 'Noone rescues the 101st. He relieved us of duty'."
"But while he was over there he contracted psoriasis. I guess it was fairly common. And in 1948 psoriasis was named a disqualifying factor when it came to military service because it required daily treatment."
Immediatley I thought about the people I knew who had psoriasis. My friend John's father was in WW II also. And when I was in college I met a Polish woman who had it. Strange, I'd never thought it to be hereditary.
"So I had psoriasis when the draft board came a knocking. I had to go through all of their physicals. You know, there was a line of us in our t-shirts and underwear getting our eyes checked, our reflexes checked, a whole battery of tests."
He contintued. "The last person I had to see was this crusty old guy. And he fairly barked at me 'Awwright. Is there anything you can think of right now that would disqualify you from military service'?"
"To which I replied 'well, I have psoriasis'. And he opened my book up and looked flipped through the pages for a few minutes. 'I don't see anything about that in here' said this fellow. Now my doctor had warned me about the military losing those kinds of records. So he had me make a copy and hide it in my underwear. And right then I pulled it out and handed it to him. He looked at it for a minute and barked out 4F and started stamping my entire medical record with it."
"That's why I never went to 'Nam." he said, finishing his story.
It was about 9 o'clock and I knew my shift would be coming up. So I napped as best I could in a cramped backseat, mulling about draftboards, lying eyes, and peaceful easy feelings.
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The_Gootch
Honorable
Supreme Hero
Kneel Before Me Sons of HC!!
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posted July 05, 2005 05:42 PM |
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Quote:
Warning: This thread is intended for a mature reader. If foul or coarse language offends you then you don't need to be reading this. The author recognizes his liability for said language and only asks that what he has to say to not be edited in any way.
I guess you missed the fine print that was at the very beginning of this thread Pan.
I'll spell it out to you so that you can understand exactly where I'm coming from.
I've got qps. I've got qps to burn. I would rather you give me a penalty than censor me.
If you intend the next time you see my foul or coarse language to not only penalize me but censor me as well let me know right now and I'll delete this thread.
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pandora
Honorable
Legendary Hero
The Chosen One
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posted July 05, 2005 09:44 PM |
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On first reading, I had no intention of censoring the post - however, it was brought to me by another member that it should be censored - as per the CoC.
Personally, I liked the post, the lack of *'s was all that kept me from giving the post a QP - knowing full well that a QP there would mean certain attack from mod-hunters.
All that said, I will restore the words and penalize - and delete all the "fun" that ensued.
For the record, I did not want to have to censor or penalize these posts.
Apologies to those who are upset at the penalty, those who were upset by the lack of penalty, those who are upset that i censored the words, and to those who will be upset that I uncensored them.
Hope that covers everyone
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"In the end, we will remember not the words of our enemies, but the silence of our friends."
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Sir_Stiven
Honorable
Legendary Hero
banned
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posted July 05, 2005 10:06 PM |
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no im upset that my post got deleted
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pandora
Honorable
Legendary Hero
The Chosen One
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posted July 05, 2005 10:27 PM |
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lol, of course you are I would expect no less from you
Back on topic, I find the whole censorship thing pretty regrettable - I like the story and hope it continues.
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"In the end, we will remember not the words of our enemies, but the silence of our friends."
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Sir_Stiven
Honorable
Legendary Hero
banned
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posted July 05, 2005 10:50 PM |
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btw, i would recommend this thread for a QP as i concider it interesting reading and am interested to here the rest
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2XtremeToTake
Promising
Supreme Hero
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posted July 05, 2005 11:05 PM |
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I'm with Stiven, reverse that penalty into a +QP, I want to hear the rest as well.
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I almost had a psychic girlfriend but she left me before we met.
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The_Gootch
Honorable
Supreme Hero
Kneel Before Me Sons of HC!!
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posted July 05, 2005 11:16 PM |
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Whether or not the post is deserving of a qp is not up to me.
But it does deserve the -qp to say the least. Remember, we're looking for consistency here. Enforcement of the CoC should not come down to a popularity contest.
Pandora reversed her position and I for one am grateful. The story will continue unfettered.
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guitarguy
Responsible
Supreme Hero
Rockoon.
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posted July 05, 2005 11:36 PM |
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Quote:
Whether or not the post is deserving of a qp is not up to me.
But it does deserve the -qp to say the least. Remember, we're looking for consistency here. Enforcement of the CoC should not come down to a popularity contest.
Pandora reversed her position and I for one am grateful. The story will continue unfettered.
I only hope that people won't try to challenge the CoC because of artistic rights. By this, I'm not saying that Gootch here intends to do that, but rather I'm talking about anybody in general.
For example, let's say I have twenty stories I'd like to share on HC. Every one of them contains plenty of 'f' words and other nasty things. I'm aware that the CoC forbids posting such language, yet I figure it's my right as the author to present everything in it's raw form. Besides, why should my work suffer by being reduced into meaningless waste? So, I'm just gonna post it the way I like it.
I'm bringing this up because I've seen other people think and act like this on other online forums I've been to. I'd much prefer not to see anybody here get penalized the way I've seen elsewhere.
-guitarguy
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Svarog
Honorable
Supreme Hero
statue-loving necrophiliac
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posted July 13, 2005 02:32 AM |
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Dual nature of posts
A dual nature of posts is the state of having two opposite mutually exclusive features simoultaneously. This seemingly non-existant phenomenon is only at first sight in violation with the laws of logic; and may appear so only to people who havent heard of the ingenious discovery, Pans Special Theory of Inter-changing States, which proposes that the state of the system oscilates alternatevely between the two opposites, without making any sense at all. Consequances of this theory are a bunch of HC members who feel disoriented following the +QP and -QP standards, so they end up getting the opposite of what they wanted initially and despite following all ateps in the QPs Manual.
And finally, alow me to tell you a short non-foul language joke:
- Why cant Jesus eat peanuts?
- Because he has holes in his hands.
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The meek shall inherit the earth, but NOT its mineral rights.
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Peacemaker
Honorable
Supreme Hero
Peacemaker = double entendre
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posted July 20, 2005 11:12 PM |
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Say Gootch --
You ever going to make the next installment? Many of us are anxious to see it...
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I have menopause and a handgun. Any questions?
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The_Gootch
Honorable
Supreme Hero
Kneel Before Me Sons of HC!!
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posted July 21, 2005 07:17 PM |
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Day 2
My sleep was restless. God I hated sleeping in cars. It's too cramped. I can't stretch out. I usually wake up feeling sorer than when I'd gone to bed. And this was no different.
It was shortly before my shift started that we hit the harbor city of Superior, Wisconsin. Normally I'd be loathe to comment about a po' dunk state like Wisconsin, especially cosidering it is the home of the hated Packers(even an intellectual giant such as myself isn't immune to petty football rivalries).
So for the first time I saw the magnificience of international commerce in action. There were grain elevators, the likes of which I'd never seen before, towering into the night sky. There were hundreds of ships, either coming from or about to navigate the St. Lawrence. And I stared in wide-eyed wonderment at it all.
Jeff was starting to fade. His drugs of choice to keep him going, coffee and chocolate, were of limited use at this point and only served to cause indigestion.
We switched positions and were back on our way. Amazingly, Jeremiah had not shut up through out all of this. I wondered if he was secretly snorting lines at our rest stops. And I was going to be irriated mighttily if he didn't get some shut eye. I could see him taking over his shift after mine, losing his buzz, and force of us to compensate for him.
But shut up he didn't. Instead, he regalled me with more unbelieveable tales of his childhood. I say unbelieveable because I know the type. Yes, he's a friend of mine. But that doesn't mean I have to ignore this side of him. I'd been friends with someone like him years ago.
To give an example of this friend from my past, the subject of sexual conquests would inevitably come up. He stated(mind you he was 17 at the time) that he'd slept with 438 women. I let this slide for a few months before I got irritated and did some math. The next time I heard him quote that number, I pointed out for that to have occurred he would've had to have slept with a different woman once every 4 days--since the age of 11. And he did what liars tend to do when they're called out. They stutter and give lame defenses to their lies. Oh well, at least I never heard that bs anymore.
Now Jeremiah was no different. But his stories took on a decidedly different tone. I once said I'd studied Submission Fighting while I was talking to a friend about the Ultimate Fighting Championship. The subject of the immortal Gracie family came up. It was there that Jeremiah said he'd beaten a Gracie. I looked at him incredulously and asked him what style he'd studied. He said Tae Kwon Do; not just any Tae Kwon Do but an ancient, extremely lethal version of it. I don't have quite the same energy to shut bs like this up anymore so I just nodded my head and said 'wow'.
Everything with Jeremiah was bigger, better, faster. He'd raced cars in Europe. He caught 800 pound Marlins. He skiied the slopes of K2. He managed multi million dollar funds and knew high rollers. If you had a pretty girlfriend, he'd dated models. If you lived sinfully, he'd blown 40 grand on hookers while on a trip to Hawaii. He wasn't in the military but he taught someone to shoot before they'd gone in. This person ended up being a sniper in Marine Force Recon. You get the idea.
So I was subject to all these stories and more. He seemed so hyped up. I guess because the trip was his brain child and he'd had so much invested in it he just wasn't able to rest.
At least my shift passed rather quickly. Jeremiah was next. And true to my prediction, he ran out of gas one hour into it. Jeff carried us to the border and to the duty free shop. Unfortunately, it had to be on the American side.
We left Jeremiah in the car and piled into the diner. I sat with Luke and James while Jeff and Jim sat with each other. I wasn't old enough to sit with the adults. Almost immediately, I was besieged with questions by the two of them.
"Did he tell you any of his bullsh*t stories?" James asked.
I raised my eyebrow. Evidently this was not a secret to his family.
"I dunno." I said steadily, figuring I'd test the waters. "He told me some stories. But it's always tough to sift through the mud when boys get together."
"Lay it on us and we'll tell you if it's true or not." quipped Luke.
"Ok, has your brother ever killed occultists in Wisconsin with your cousin Wally?" I asked, figuring I'd get the most outrageous one out of the way.
"Oh my god! He said that?" James said in amazement. "No! No, no, no. Seriously, he's got a realy problem and he needs help."
"Ok, did he get a full ride through college playing football for Wisconsin?" I asked.
This seemed to really tick off the both of them.
"That sonofasnow! He played one year for Wisconsin-Platteville and dropped out!" they both said fairly simultaneously.
It was pointed out to me before that Luke and James both received full rides for football to various schools. James was still playing. And to them it seemed to me that Jeremiah was somehow diminishing their own accomplishments by lying about his own.
Jeremiah came in from the car and sat with his dad and Jeff. Breakfast was quickly devoured and it was time to hit the gift and duty free shop.
Jim and I checked out the cigars.
"Best goddam bug juice there is!" he snarled.
I made the dumb mistake about asking about Cubans, not thinking that since we were on the US side, there was no way in hell the shop would have them.
So, I contented myself with a carton of Du Maurier's and a few stogies. I figured 'when in Rome' when it came to my cigarettes. I considered booze but at 7 in the morning I really didn't have an appetite for it.
Because of particularly stupid rules, my cigarettes had to be delivered to me right next to the border. I was supposed to let the proprietor know when I was going to be leaving but when I went to go let him know, there wasn't anyone inside.
So we went towards the border to the drop off point for the duty free stuff. Both Jeff and Jeremiah asked me to remove my bandana. I guess men who wear bandanas aren't welcome in Canada. I don't think there's an outright ban per se. But they felt that Customs officials see 'rag wearers as troublemakers.
So we waited for several minutes at this stop. It became clear to me that I'd missed the guy and without him knowing I was here he wouldn't even have my own package the next time he'd swing out in this direction. So I asked Jeff to turn around. Mind you there was a turn-off for just that purpose.
"No way am I going to turn around." he said, petrified.
I looked at him with a new disdain. "What a p*ssy." I thought.
Jeremiah saw the look in my eye and started recounting horror stories about Customs officials tearing apart suspicious vehicles.
I wanted to argue the point but figured he'd dazzle me with bulls*hit to prove his point. So, several minutes after waiting for us, Jim turned his shaggin' wagon around('87 Chevy full Conversion Van with the Starcraft Voyager custom trim package...aka another veritable piece of s*it from Detroit).
"What's the hold up?" the boys in the other vehicle asked.
I got out of the van to talk to Jim.
"Waiting on some cigarettes right now but Jeff's too much of a Sally to turn around and go back to the store. Can I hop in with you guys?" I said.
"Sure." Jim said.
After I piled in, he started going off about Customs.
"These a**holes made me get rid of my potatoes! You ever hear of that? I haven't!"
This was followed by a round of conversation between us debating the merits of what is and isn't allowed across the borders. We came to the conclusion that it in fact made sense(not that we'd ever be in the position to affect US-Canada potato policy) to disallow potatoes.
The shop was only about a mile behind us. Sure enough, the guy was there waiting behind the counter. I told him I was ready for the package, jumped back into the van, and was herded back to where Jeremiah and Jeff were waiting.
Jim and the two younger boys went back through while we waited. Eventually the guy came. I grabbed my stuff and we finally were able to move again.
We went through Customs without a problem. But we had no idea where Jim was. Jeremiah assumed that they went on ahead without us. And so we just headed towards the campsite.
After another driver shift, I got my first taste of Canadian roads. Speed limits being posted in Km/h was the most glaring difference. At least they didn't drive on the wrong side of the road like our ugly English cousins.
The other thing that struck me were the trees. There were trees everywhere. There were houses, well, nowhere. Evidently the majority of Canada's population is centered around its urban areas. The sense of space just added to the sense of wonderment I felt.
We passed through Thunder Bay and continued on. Wow, were there a lot of trees. But there only seemed to be two kinds; Birchwood and Pine.
(Author's note: If some Canuck dares interrupt this story to tell me the difference between firs and pines I'm going to stab them in the eyeball with a Maple Leaf).
Finally we made it to our destination, Lake Kashabowie. Surprisingly, we beat the others. Tony, the owner's son greeted us heartily. It was the first time I was able to witness a Canadian in his natural habitat. And what I found was startling.
In this part of Canada at least, they share the same dutch influenced twang to their speaking voice that our very own Minnesotans do. If you're unclear of what I'm referring to, go and rent 'Fargo'. They're also as insufferably friendly and laid back as the legends state.
Tony showed us the two cabins that shared the same campground. He expressed regret that one of the cabins was smaller and said he had another one if the smaller one was too small.
I noticed an evil gleam in Jeremiah's eyes. Not only were we about to get the larger cabin, but he was going to be able to screw his siblings and father in the process. This did not bode well for peace.
"No, no, that's fine. We'll take them both." Jeremiah said.
I looked at him. "You know, might be better to have a discussion about this." I stated quietly.
"Pfft, I'm ruthless when it comes to s*it like this. My whole family is. You think they would have asked?" He shot back.
"Come to think of it, where are they?" I said. "We should've passed them on the road if we'd beaten them here."
"I honestly don't know. Maybe they went to go buy beer or something. Let's go unload the SUV to make sure we can't get kicked out of here." said Jeremiah.
We unpacked and took a look at the other cabin. Well, I hoped the other boys were close.
We went back to the lodge, asked questions, paid for our licenses, and received various brochures.
More than an hour later the Chevy rolled in. We flagged them and met them at the main lodge.
"Where the hell were you guys?" said both sides.
"We thought you ditched us and just kept going." said Jeremiah, echoing what Jeff and I had thought.
"Thanks a lot Jeremiah." said James. "You only thought that cause you'd do something like it. We went to the falls. We always go to the falls. You know that dad wanted to go there. Whitey always used to stop at those falls."
"We also got beer." said Luke. "Lots of beer. Molsen, Labbatt's, all different kinds. We spent some hunnert an' eighty bucks on it."
I looked at the cases. That WAS a lot of beer; enough to fill up the refrigerator.
The newly arrived got their licenses. Tony mentioned that he was having a party at the lodge that night and we were more than welcome to come. We flashed grins between ourselves, thinking about the possibilities with booze and women. But first, we had to get the boats into the water. And to do that we had to clear them of their gear.
Jim had been pacing around at this point. We were a bit disorganized. Periodically he'd pipe in, "Somebody take charge of this goddam outfit!" and other such statements.
I, being an interested observer of the human animal, started getting an impression that he was training his boys to be foremen; this was their leadership training. I'm not sure if they were even aware of it.
So eventually we got the boats staged. It was midafternoon and everyone was ancy to get out onto the water. Pairs were declared at this point. Jeremiah and Jeff in Jeff's boat; James and Jim in Jim's boat; and Luke and myself in his little 9 footer. Jeremiah was the official cook for this trip and declared that everyone should be in by 6:30.
I'd never really ridden a motor boat before. The sun was brightly shining. There was nary a cloud in the sky. And the water. The water was as calm as a postcard. Supposedly it had a high mineral content, which gave it a darker hue. To me it looked to be a sheet of perfect obsidian.
Luke and I took to each other pretty quickly. I'd known a lot of rednecks when I was in the service so I knew the language. I also loved his hotdog attitude. It seemed he tried to go out of his way to jump the wake of every boat we came across. Since I was point I got to a get a little splashing action in.
Lake Kashabowie was huge, with several tributaries. Eventually we settled on a spot and I got a quick lesson in the philosophy of trolling. Jeremiah had taken the time to put my swivel on for me so I didn't really need to worry about it.
Amazingly, I caught a fish. I didn't know it at the time, thinking it was a snag. But sure enough, a little Northern Pike was on the end of my pole. Unfortunately, I didn't keep the pole up. So when the fish got closer, my pole lowered straight towards the water. Luke went to grab the fish but it gave one final jerk of desperation and got away.
Grr, this was going to be humbling.
Mind you, at least 2 hours passed without a nibble. I was no expert but that seemed to be an awful lot of time wasted. This was going to take some getting used to, this change of pace.
I was starting to feel a nap coming on. The car ride had been some 16 hours and my sleep was fitful. We got back to the campsite. Jeremiah and Jeff had caught some decent Northerns(snakes they called them) and a whitefish.
I jumped onto my bed, determined to get at least some rest before dinner and the party. I swear I was only going to be out for an hour.
I woke up and it was pitch black outside. My body groaned in protest while I moved. Bleary-eyed I tried to peer into the darkness. I heard voices in the distance, suggesting that there was indeed a party going on.
But I looked back at my bed. And I tried to pierce the darkness. And I looked back at the bed. And again I looked at the darkness.
And my last test of manhood was complete. I chose sleep over chicks. I crawled into my sweats(it was unusually chilly outside and inside the cabin), threw my hood over my head and crawled under the covers.
"Screw it." I said. "At least I can dream about them."
And I slept more deeply and soundly than I'd had in a long, long time.
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Peacemaker
Honorable
Supreme Hero
Peacemaker = double entendre
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posted July 22, 2005 08:15 PM |
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Well it's about time.
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He stated(mind you he was 17 at the time) that he'd slept with 438 women.
ROFL
Geeze, and I started bragging when I got to fifty (at which time I also lost count).
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Normally I'd be loathe to comment about a po' dunk state like Wisconsin, especially cosidering it is the home of the hated Packers(even an intellectual giant such as myself isn't immune to petty football rivalries).
Uh oh...One of my old "boyfriends" was a Packer... I think he was about number 34 (and I'm not talking about his jersey either).
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I have menopause and a handgun. Any questions?
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Svarog
Honorable
Supreme Hero
statue-loving necrophiliac
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posted July 23, 2005 05:11 AM |
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Looks to me like your boss friend is an snow. NIce story. You're master at telling stuff. Especially considering how uneventful all of this in fact is.
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The meek shall inherit the earth, but NOT its mineral rights.
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