If you all try to fish from the boat, soon you will find four in one boat is too many. The friends might volunteer to try their luck from the bank. The wife possibly will fish an old pier nearby. The male half of the team will see a wonderful spot on the other side of the lake. Then supposing you and your better half re-embark; he spots a place that should be loaded with bass. As you are being taught to use the boat, you will do the paddling. It will be beyond his comprehension how anyone can be so dense they can’t keep a boat headed straight instead of going around in circles. With flies, gnats, mosquitoes and everything except vultures swarming around the fish odor that is you, your painful endeavors, after eternities of time, can bring you to the spot. While you try to fish, you are supposed to keep the boat straight while he casts for bass. Now drop your hook, with two wigglers on, into the water, then feel your teeth to see if they are ground down to the gums after baiting your first hook. Meanwhile, THE MAN will be busily placing his fly at the proper place to pick up a big bass. So intent is he to show his prowess he will not see the log just under the surface. As something that feels like a whale pulls on your line, his best fly hits the log and hangs! Too bad – take us over to get it; it cost too much to lose. Conceal your disappointment, lay down your pole, paddle over and help loose his cherished fly. Go back and try for your big one again, but it will be gone. Your first one got away, but don’t be too disappointed.
There is a spot further out where you can do better, he will think. With all your flying insects still in your eyes and ears, make a start, but stop as quickly as you can, because your intuition will tell you that right where you are is the best place. With much grace, he may yield – this is YOUR trip, you know. Hurriedly attach two more icky worms to the hook and drop it into the water. This time the fish may swallow it, what a thtill if you miraculously yank a two-pounder into the boat. Hubby will cover it with the net and take ten minutes instructing you how to take it off the hook. Well, don’t learn too fast. You don’t want to be finned. Sticking hooks into worms is bad enough but getting them out of fish – ugh! The light of your life will go back to his casting. Try, try again and you may get a small one. Seems your intuition was right, as they keep on biting. Do not catch more than four, or the still, warm atmosphere will blow his fly into a clump of snaky-looking bushes. You will have to lay down your pole to go and get it. The fourth time this happens, your suspicions are aroused, but it is too late to say anything. The wind did it, anyway, though there has not been the slightest breeze.
Your hands almost blistered from rowing the boat, eventually you will reach the landing where the friends are waiting. The wife may proudly hold up a string of bass and carp. The husband, grouchy and irritable stands off to himself, mumbling about a group of yakkety women who moved in on him; those big-mouthed, britches-wearing cigarette-smoking females doing nothing but talking about what the other members of the bridge club are doing. Why didn’t they go to the bridge club, too, and stay off bridges where people want to fish? The men will agree with each other, but you women can exchange secret glances. You know where the trouble lies.
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