While Everyone Else was Fishing …..

While everyone else went fishing . . . . .

Someone smoked in a No-Smoking room.

A mother worried about her teenage son’s embarrassment over his weight.

A young man quarreled with his girlfriend, in the parking lot behind the Cafe where she was waiting tables.  She shouted at him.  He stood there with his hands in his pockets, face to the asphalt, shoulders slumped.  She strode back into the Cafe.  He got into a car on the passenger side.  An older lady, maybe his mother, drove him away.

Three men expounded loudly about arrogant fly fishers. These outsiders, it was said, wore a thousands bucks worth of clothing every day they dressed to fish.  These outsiders, it was said, probably killed more fish with their silly catch and release games than Indian gill-netters.

An angry young man in a shiny pickup honked and jabbed his finger into the air as a car driven by an old man and woman stopped where there wasn’t a stop sign.

A young man and woman, maybe twenty or so, got frisky, repeatedly, in room 205.

A teenage boy had Chinese food for lunch with his parents.  The young man asked if they were really happy with their lives.

Two thirty-something men from Wyoming pondered their new Spey fishing skill-sets over coffee.  They clearly weren’t convinced  the two-hander craze was worth it.

An old man chatted a little too long with the Barista at the local Coffee Shop.  He was lonely.  She was tolerant.  A daily ritual.

A group of college boys and girls walked from store to store looking at Twilight Movie souvenirs.  One of the boys pretended to be a Vampire.  Everyone shrieked and laughed.

An Indian woman cleaned rooms at the Motel.

Eight men in their sixties and seventies pulled several tables together at the Cafe and talked about their day’s fishing.  Four boats, four guides, and only a few bites.  They bet on the next day’s catch:  first fish, biggest fish, and so on.  Dollar bets.  All ordered the Prime Rib special.

A  middle-age woman stood beside the road, under an umbrella, with a cardboard sign asking for – Anything.

The lyrics on the radio sang: “So often it happens that we live our lives in chains, and we never knew we had the key.  Me, I’m already gone.”

A man smiled when he listened to his family sing Happy Birthday over the phone.

JN

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