I would like to tell you guys a story today, but this time it is not a travel story. I was on the bus today when this memory popped into my head and I had a hard time keeping my laughter in. (If there’s one thing you don’t want to do when you’re on the bus, it’s start laughing out loud to yourself. Unless you want to be branded as That Crazy Laughing Lady, then by all means.)
This story doesn’t have a picture to go along with it, unfortunately. You will have to use your imaginations.
[At this point, your screen should get some wavy blurry lines, followed by a harp, to signify flashback]
For some reason, I can’t quite recall when this story happened, but it was in the summer, either while I was in high school, or very shortly after. During that summer my sister was working with disabled teens, and she took them fishing one day, so we happened to have a fishing rod in our garage. I had decided that I wanted to start doing things I’d never done before, and so I convinced two of my good friends to come fishing with me.
There is a man-made lake near my house, which is pretty common to find people fishing around, and so that is where we headed. Of the three of us, I think only one had ever been fishing before, but we were young and
stupid determined. We used hot dogs as bait, and within the first ten minuted managed to lose our knife in the lake. I kept getting my line stuck in the seaweed, and I really didn’t know how to cast with my rod (context is everything).
Eventually, after standing at the dock for an hour or so, one of us managed to reel in a small catfish. We were overjoyed. Until we realised that we had to then do something with it. The three of us looked at this poor fish, not knowing how to take it off the hook let alone what to do with it after that. We walked down the dock, dragging our bounty on the line along in the water until we reached a fellow fisherman. We asked him to take it off for us, giggling and blushing at our obvious teenage-ness. He obliged, only slightly laughing at us, and asked if we wanted to keep the fish. We practically screamed no at him. He threw it back.
After that traumatizing experience we were pretty much done with fishing for the day. We packed up and headed home.
The worst thing, or possibly best depending on who you ask, about this story is the fact that if I went fishing now, I don’t think it would end up much differently.