Thursday, May 28, 2015
You Cant Spit That Far....
"Thanks for moving in on my casting range, hell I can spit that far"
It's well and good that OMR couldnt hear the ass clown who felt that his rights were infringed upon. Apparently being half deaf is good everyone once and a while, helps to avoid confrontation.
After a long day on the lake, we were all headed back to camp for cocktail hour and a few of us pulled over on a shoal near the get out to catch a few more fish.
Now to set the scene, the first guy on the lake early that morning was a guy in a drift boat. He rowed out about 30 yards from camp, dropped two anchors and then sat there, all day, fishing chronomids.
All. Damn. Day.
Granted he was dialed. Like rod bent ever 15 minutes dialed. But seriously, all day, same spot?
That same spot he was in was the same one we tried to fish at the end of the day. Fishing on this particular lake isnt competitive, it's usually cordial. Information is shared, you talk to most you go by, you cheer for people getting into fish.
OMR hooks into a nice fish and I jokingly said to the spot camper, "hey, look at this horse shit" in reference to my dad always catching fish
Then Captain Passive Aggressive takes offense at our "closeness" and utters his line from above.
Fast forward a few hours and whiskey's later, we tell OMR what the guy said.
20 minutes later, OMR is gone. I walk to the bathroom and I notice that my dad has found the offending parties camp, and super aggressive dad has shown up.
Oh no....this is what I hear,
"Damn it, I'm 74 years old. I bought my license and I can fish where ever I damn where please on this lake.........and another thing....YOU CANT SPIT THAT FAR"
With that, he left their camp. The OMR equivalent of dropping the mic.
Boom goes the dynamite.