Basic to the art of human communications, I think, is the premise of collegial harmony; that implicit knowledge that all partners to a conversation will be allotted equitable shares of time to relate interesting or otherwise noteworthy information to a group. Also basic is the understanding that this will never happen, especially when long-time friends meet after a long period apart and feel the necessity to humiliate a single member of the group (me) with a disturbingly enthusiastic fervor. (Plus, although I can't prove it to a judicial certainty, I think one of them tried to poison me with a piece of dead cow so horribly burnt that little remained except chunks of charcoal clinging to the plate.)
In the course of a three-day meeting (well, fishing trip, technically) organized by yours truly (with no small effort on my behalf, I might add), these five Philistines and/or Neanderthals tore me apart with the delight of jackals fighting over fresh-killed prey. And if I should happen to come up with a snappy retort capable of leveling the playing field slightly (and it didn’t happen often due to my innate shyness and desire not to lower myself to their level), I was shouted down at every turn as they laughed, toasted each other’s wittiness with drink strong enough to knock down the average bull rhino and forced me to share their libations before withdrawing even further into my own inner sanctum.
Yet, through it all, I remained strong, overlooking their childish remonstrations and remembering that there must be a reason why I’ve put up with their abuse for such an interminable period of time. Then I remembered the reason… they all owe me vast sums of money.
I’m home, I’m safe (relatively) and now I can begin to lick my many wounds. I’m sure I’ll get over the horrors of the experience in due time, but I wouldn’t repeat the experience again, driving the 470 miles each way to such a horrible, God-forsaken place until… well, actually, I’d leave this afternoon if I can get some better company, or even the same ungrateful wretches if they’ll go, because that’s just how I roll. I’ll give them a second chance… I’m the bigger man.
Seriously, folks, I had a great time. We had a rough spot of weather that cost us a day of fishing (tornados killed 8 people within fifty miles of us), but Mountain Harbor Spa and Resort at Lake Ouachita, Arkansas, is about as good as it gets-- and it's affordable. They offer amenities too numerous to mention, the area is absolutely gorgeous and the accommodations are world-class. We hired a guide service to put us on some nice striper fishing (which they did, a tip of the hat to Mike Cogburn (501) 627-2212... call him!) and I highly recommend it to anyone.
In the course of a three-day meeting (well, fishing trip, technically) organized by yours truly (with no small effort on my behalf, I might add), these five Philistines and/or Neanderthals tore me apart with the delight of jackals fighting over fresh-killed prey. And if I should happen to come up with a snappy retort capable of leveling the playing field slightly (and it didn’t happen often due to my innate shyness and desire not to lower myself to their level), I was shouted down at every turn as they laughed, toasted each other’s wittiness with drink strong enough to knock down the average bull rhino and forced me to share their libations before withdrawing even further into my own inner sanctum.
Yet, through it all, I remained strong, overlooking their childish remonstrations and remembering that there must be a reason why I’ve put up with their abuse for such an interminable period of time. Then I remembered the reason… they all owe me vast sums of money.
I’m home, I’m safe (relatively) and now I can begin to lick my many wounds. I’m sure I’ll get over the horrors of the experience in due time, but I wouldn’t repeat the experience again, driving the 470 miles each way to such a horrible, God-forsaken place until… well, actually, I’d leave this afternoon if I can get some better company, or even the same ungrateful wretches if they’ll go, because that’s just how I roll. I’ll give them a second chance… I’m the bigger man.
Seriously, folks, I had a great time. We had a rough spot of weather that cost us a day of fishing (tornados killed 8 people within fifty miles of us), but Mountain Harbor Spa and Resort at Lake Ouachita, Arkansas, is about as good as it gets-- and it's affordable. They offer amenities too numerous to mention, the area is absolutely gorgeous and the accommodations are world-class. We hired a guide service to put us on some nice striper fishing (which they did, a tip of the hat to Mike Cogburn (501) 627-2212... call him!) and I highly recommend it to anyone.
14 comments:
well i for one am thrilled to have you back,, the meeker humbler version i am sure,, after such a week!! LOL!!!!
Welcome back! It's been way too quiet without you. And, you even got a picture of the one that got away! Good going!
Hey, I think you should plan another trip to paradise - this time with your 'literati' friends...okay, your online friends....
; )
Welcome ba-a-a-ck!
Paisley-- Yes, I'm nothing if not humble. And, as one of my compatriots noted after hearing me say that, 'Yes, and with good reason'.
Shirley-- The fishing was great! Unfortunately, the catching didn't keep pace. We had nearly-horrible conditions, two of the three days, and our faithful guides managed to still put us on fish. You need to know that this lake has over 1,000 miles of shoreline, and I think these guys know every hole in that lake. They're really phenomenal...
Karen-- Thank ya, dear! You're welcome on any trip I take...
I'm completely astonished a meek, mousey guy like yourself couldn't catch a break, but you know how those primative, gamey, outdoor types can be. Glad you missed the really bad weather. By the way, how long did it take to snap shots of each one of you holding the striper?
May how you suffer for
your art and fishing.
Glad you are back!!!!!!
klk
ok bobber what's in the cooler--fish?
was that the bait you are holding?
sorry--do I owe you money?
Dan-- Are you kidding? It cost me $50 to rent that striper... I'll be damned if I'll let anyone else touch it, much less hold it!
Thanks, Kaylee... I could take a whole lot of that kind of fishing.
Scot-- No, nothing in the cooler 'cept brewskis. Bait, huh? You're a funny guy, Scot--not! Ha! No, I don't think you owe me anything... except your undying gratitude, of course. I'll think of a reason why, later.
Holy cow! There's a photo of you holding a stripper?!!! Welcome back although I'm sure you hated to come home...what with the stripper and all.
Welcome home. :) Great pics Bob...it's always special when friends can gather. I could have sworn you were on a lake here in Georgia from the pics. Looks sublime.
I wanted to mention, I just read your poem 'Ode to a Buddhist Robe'. Wow...it's simply beautiful.
Jo-- Yea, if the State Police hadn't politely requested that I might want to consider leaving soon (within the next 20 minutes), I might have thought about relocating. But, with that stripper's restraining order in place, I won't be able to go back for at least ninety days.
Tina-- Hey, thanks... I don't write much poetry for reasons that would become obvious if more of it were available. I also read your pieces in Word Catalyst and I very much enjoyed "Brother Can You Spare A Dime". For the rest of you, give Word Catalyst a try... it's free and has lots of good reading material. The link is on my list on the first page of this blog. Thanks...
Woohoooooo, that is a holey mackeral, well not mackeral of course, the equivalent here though of the Spanish Mackeral, look at the mouth on that predator, I bet he hit and took off like bull lightening,
great fish, Bob, I take it all back, haha
I'll be tagging along on a similar guide-enhanced fishing trip up here in October. That's an awesome fella you've got on the top pic!
Sounds like you had a wonderful time.
This post really made me smile (as well as laugh aloud a couple time): I have been forced into the same role with my group of friends, and the more they gang up on me the more my wit withers and the more theirs explodes, until I am reduced to saying, "ok, ok, haha, you got me, good job, come on guys, really, ok . . . that hurts my feelings . . ." But they don't care.
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