Yet another true life experience of OldGuy43:
When I was a young boy I went fishing a lot with my grandfather, grandmother and father We'd get up at the crack of dawn and stay out until sunset whether the fish were biting or not. I had to sit still in the boat, not make any noise and God forbid I should splash and scare away the fish. Between sitting in the hot sun and all of the other restrictions I came to the conclusion that I didn't like fishing.
Fast forward to me at age 38. A group of my friends decided that they wanted to go fishing. I, quite naturally declined. They kept after me until I reluctantly accepted.
The plan called for getting started about 10:30 am, and it was closer to noon before we actually left the house. When we got out to the lake they picked a nice grassy, shady spot on the bank and started to unload. The first thing out of the car was 2 cases of beer (there were only 5 of us). Forty-eight cans of Bush Bavarian. We moved on down to the bank, baited the hooks sat down on the grass about 10' apart and put out one line apiece. (My family always had a minimum of two lines per person. Sometimes as many as four.) We'd actually caught a couple of crappy when some one pointed out that the fish were interfering with the fun so we just quit baiting the hooks. The fish didn't bother us much after that.
It wasn't to much longer before someone pointed out that the 10' spacing was making conversation difficult, not to mention passing the cigarette, (I leave it to the reader's imagination to guess what kind of cigarette.) so we moved side-by-side. As one can imagine this quickly led to the lines getting tangled so we just reeled them in and laid the rods on the bank.
It was at this point that I realized why I didn't like to go fishing. The problem wasn't the fishing, it was my family.
They actually went out to catch fish!
