Some things are sacred.

As you all can imagine, yesterday was a pretty stressful day here on the blog, having had two back to back posts that garnered a fair amount of comments, with many opinions, criticisms, discussions, debate, etc… (I’d like to thank all for their composure, given the passion we all have for the subject.) By the end of my work day, I was completely frazzled. My head wasnt necessarily spinning, but it was sure getting there in a hurry.

I lock up the office, hop in the truck and head for a local convenience store that’s on the way home. I get there, pick up a pack of smokes and some beer and haul ass out of there only to get stuck in traffic. The usual 5 minutes it takes me to get from one landmark to another takes me about 20 minutes. Since I hate being in traffic and compounded the the stressful day, I am steaming mad at that point.

Traffic continues to inch along at a snails pace, Im pissed and there’s a six pack of beer sitting next to me that I cant drink and that’s getting warmer and warmer by the minute. Why is it that when youre always in a hurry,everyone seems to be whistling dixie behind the wheel?

So I inch along in traffic, beer next to me still getting hot and it seems I have every moron with license in front of me, when some idiot about three cars in front of me rear ends the other idiot in front of him. I completely lose it and go into a major tirade by myself and for myself right there in my truck because you know what happens next. The two morons will get out of their cars, inspect the damage, argue a little , call the cops, etc… and every other driver is going to basically stop, examine the accident like they are part of a CSI team and then continue to inch their way along ,after calling everyone on their cellphone to tell them about the accident.

Im steaming mad as it appears I will never, ever get home. I scream bad words I didnt even know that I knew, let out massive sighs, call people names, the whole works.

Then, as Im contemplating getting out of my truck and beating the shit out of everyone around me, I look over to my right and this overwhelming peace comes over me. Birds start singing, butterflies start flying around, rainbows and unicorns appear across a clear powder blue sky. Beautiful harp music begins to play. I am stopped, in traffic, right in front of my local bait and tackle shop. I know what this feeling is. Ive had it before. It’s an angling epiphany.

“Yes!” I say to myself. “I am goinna do me some fishing.” What better way to relax and let the day just slide right off.

I pull into the Fishing Line Bait and Tackle Shop, pick up a new box of hooks, a new spool of 6 lb test, a pack of bobbers and a dozen shiners for bait. Ordinarily, I dont use live bait to fish out in the canal, I use lures. But I just want to fish Calvin and Hobbes style, sitting back all nice and comfy with a line in the water and the bobber gently bobbing on the ripples. Let the bait do all the work, I just want to sit there and drink beer and chill out.

I get back in my truck with my new fishing goodies in hand and this time, the traffic doesnt bother me. I can wait the few extra minutes in traffic now as when I get home, i’m not just going to decompress, Im going to fish. Im going to sit there with a stick and a string with a hook attached to it and try to catch a Peacock or Large Mouth bass. The breeze will gently caress my skin, the sound of the ripples lapping on the bank will lull my senses, that sound broken only by the whir of the reel as I land my fist bass.

When I finally get home I run inside, change into my fishing shorts and chancletas and tshirt, toss a couple beers in the freezer and head out back with my bag o’ fishing goodies and my bucket o’ bait and a big ole smile on my face. The sun is shining, breeze is breezin’ and those unicorns are still romping peacefully over those rainbows.

I get to ManCamp, set down the bag o’goodies and tie a rope to the bucket and drop it in the canal. Dont want the shiners dyin’ on me. All is right in the world because I am about to fish!

I pull out the pack of hooks and bobbers from the bag o’ goodies, open them and take out a bobber and a hook. I gently close both packs, put them away in the tackle box and, with hook and bobber in hand I look for my rod and reel and….wait…Where’s my trusty rod and…what the…it was right there in the…

$%#@$%^&%$$!!!! MOTHER #$%%^$@@ SON OF A $%*&^^$%^%! SOME MOTHER$%#@%^& SON OF A %^%$#@ MOTHER$%&&*^%$#@ STOLE MY $%^&^#$@#@ ROD AND REEL!

So much for decompression, fishing, rainbows and #$%^&%$@ unicorns.