Unicorns, Aliens, and Bigfoot

You’re at work, typing away, and you swear to yourself that your computer clock assumes half-speed during the 1 o’clock hour. You think back to the Mexican food you ate at lunch, figuring this is the real reason for your mid-day lethargy. Back to typing. Then, you get an email. Your Friday afternoon obligations are cancelled, and you have an extra 4 hours of weekend. After a five-text exchange, you have fishing plans with a buddy on Friday. You look back at your screen, see that it’s 1:23 p.m., sigh, and keep typing.

On Friday at 12:59, you’re powering off your computer and tossing your car keys in your pocket. You woke up early this morning to pack your car for fishing, so you don’t have to run home. You fill your cooler with food and drinks at the gas station where a group of old men sit in the back booths as long as the doors are open. Your buddy arrives perfectly on time and parks. You have to withhold your usual passive-aggressive joke about timeliness. The two of you are off to the river in your vehicle.

You both rig up your rods before looking at the water. Your friend hikes downriver, and you hike up, knowing that you cajoled him into taking the worse stretch. The bass like the new hopper design you came up with. You get a few nice ones. On a whiffed cast that lands in the middle of the river, that 20″ bass you always swore was in there swallows your fly, and you’re able to give it a good set. You land the fish and call your buddy for the hero shot. Your friend is able to pull out a bass almost as big as yours from the same hole with a popper. You both talk about how neither of you ever got hung in the overhanging branches as the darkness settles over the horizon on the walk back to the car.