He spotted me and made his way over and then the usual friendly banter began.
"Hard at work I see. You catch anything with your little finesse 4 inch curly tail secret scented hand poured worm that you refuse to reveal?" he asked while picking out a backlash.
"Yeah, I'd ask YOU if you've caught anything, but we all know the answer to that one. You know, has anyone told you that sound like one of those Olympic shot putters every time you cast that thing?"
"Whatever. It's a 10 inch Magdraft. It weighs like 7 ounces! Anyway, I got it in the Clearance section. Real cheap."
"The Clearance section eh? I wonder why. In any case, try not to hit any of those geese with that thing. Liable to take out the entire flock in one cast....you'll have enough feathers to fill a comforter."
Our delightful conversation was interrupted when a fellow fisherman stumbled down from the same parking area, 2 rods and a tackle box in one hand, and a 5 gallon Home Depot bucket in the other, a metal stringer attached to it, clanging on the cement like if he was The Ghost of Power Bait Past. He cracked open a Steel Reserve he had hiding in the bucket. I guess it's 5 PM somewhere.
My buddy and I stared at this guy as he rigged his rods up, using a spark plug as a weight, and made a cast. He looked around his feet for a moment, and then quickly realized that cement was hard, and he could not stake down his metal rod holder into the pedestrian walkway. So, his brilliant solution was to stake it down in the grass; the same grass that sits BEHIND the pedestrian walkway. He attached a bell to the tip of the rod, and proceeded to cast his second rig, his hunk of bait flying off behind him, while his weight and now bare snelled baitholder flew towards the middle of the lake. He positioned the other rod holder in the same manner as the first, right smack into the grass. Now he had TWO lines about neck high that were cast across the pedestrian walkway.
"You know that's not gonna end well."
"Not at all," I replied, shaking my head in agreement.
My buddy mustered enough courage to walk over to the guy, limbo'ing under one line, and ducking under the second, politely telling him that it's probably not a good idea to have two rods thrown out across the walkway, where, you know, people are walking. The guy politely told him to "*uck off," and we continued walking.
"What'd he say?" I asked, knowing full well I had heard their entire interaction. (I just wanted my buddy to relive the trauma of being told to '*uck off' by a complete stranger.)
"He told me to '*uck off!' Can you believe it?!"
"Well...did he at least say, 'Please?'"
•
I did get a fish to go that day throwing a small a free rigged Yamamoto Flappin Hog Jr (yellow bag), which as usual, came along some man made structure. Omar, the 16 year old Resident High School Dropout/Part Time Bass Fisherman was doing his laps on his electric scooter instead of being in Wood Shop, and raced towards us and snapped a quick picture.
3.3#
"What'd you get him on? And don't say a Senko like you always do."
"A Senko."
He muttered "Dick" under his breath as he whizzed off.
"SHOULDN'T YOU BE IN SCHOOL!?" I yelled back.
After I released the fish, to the shock of the few who had gathered around sharing their favorite fish soup recipes with me, Omar continued his frantic pace around the cement walkway on his scooter, looking like the White Rabbit in Alice in Wonderland. No idea what he's in a rush for as he has no job and doesn't go to school. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯
Suddenly, his forward progress was stopped when he ran into that guy's fishing lines. He tried to avoid them at the last minute and bobbed when he should've weaved, and ended up getting clothes-lined by the guy's braided line, and then dragging the guys rods and reels 50 feet down the walkway, losing his balance and his scooter, as he went tumbling on the grass.
"Told you that wasn't going to end well."
