A hole, a beer, and a blanket

Sorry if I overprolonged your hot thirst for a new post. I’ve been fishing on ice and golfing in deserts these past weeks.

I was obligated to ice fish last weekend by the when-in-Rome-ness of a record obliterating Wisconsin winter. In subsequent conversations, it seems that I’m the only one who feels this obligation. Most Wisconsin natives just seem to shrug.

I thought it would be one of those special locale-specific adventures that would somehow simultaneously reveal something about myself and my new environment. Instead, it has become apparent that locale-specificity doesn’t always confer meaningfulness. Like paying to use the outhouse in France, it’s just something people could do here if they wanted, but wouldn’t mean much if they didn’t.

We got out on the lake early. This may not mean much to creatures living below 2 feet ice. But it just felt right.  By 8:00, my vista consisted of…

For the ignorant (or uncaring), that is a hand augured hole, thankyouverymuch. No gas-powered auguring for this chunk of man.

No tent, either. Just a man, his poorly chosen outfit, an ill-baited pole, on his stylish and uncomfortable Urban Outfitters [referenced, not endorsed] chair.

After powering through 2 feet of ice, the champagne-lite of beers [pictured, but not endorsed] was in order. So what if Weekend Morning Edition hasn’t started yet.

There would be a lot of those lame justifications to drink cheap beer at these inappropriate hours. I drank to keep warm. I drank because I wasn’t catching anything. I drank because my hole froze over.  I drank because I was tired.

I bellied a 6 pack by the time the good souls were going to morning mass. This day was going to be blown. Oh well. There were a lot of folks out here. I became almost comforted by this collective day-frittering. It was still freezing and I was standing on ice. Add 60 degrees, ice fishing could be awesome.

After 5 hours, nothin but nibblin, and an I-stopped-counting amount of alcohol, I was done with this. It’s hard to think when you’re freezing and drunk.  

We walked back off the lake in a large group. And there was a loud crack. We were still on pretty thick ice, but you’re made think how awful it would be to die this way. Who needs to ice fish?


1 Comment

  1. i like ice fishing wolf.

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