I figured and it's kind........of slow so why not , enjoy
If you all remember in a past story we have a new member in my hunt club since 2009. His nickname is “weird Bob”.. Bob is perhaps the strangest man I have ever met. He took up hunting in his 60’s. Now at 72 he still has no clue. It is now apparent to me that he never was afforded the opportunity to learn solid skills from anyone. Now in his older age, his mind is about as sharp as a spoon. For the last 10 months, I have spent hours explaining safety, reading game sign, wooodsmanship, hunting ethics, appropriate clothing for the given climate, deer behavior and the sort. I love to do this more than anything. However, this is like teaching a severely brain damaged person to teach how to use a crayon.
The two day gun season arrived. At first I thought I would be hunting with my longtime hunting partner John. Against our ethical mindset, we decided to not tell Bob about the 2 day event so we could have a safe outing without worrying about Bob.
John being the nicest guy in the world could not keep his yap shut. I get the call. “Bob is following us down to the property and sharing our 2 bedroom hotel suite”. John said he was bringing his extra cot for Bob to sleep in. I advised tell him to bring his own food as well. The last few hunts he has showed up with nothing and mooched off the other members. This guy is a retired accountant who owns a horse farm. I do not mind sharing, but I detest ignorance, cheap people and neediness. I quietly shook my head and politely said ok I will call my insurance agent to up my life policy. Five PM Thursday evening we are waiting in my driveway.. Bob was supposed to be there by 5.
Twenty minutes go by and we call him. “Bob where the hell are you”? Bob states” I can’t; find Rich’s house” at that moment we see him drive by. This happened 4 times until we said on the cell to “stop where you are, don’t move”. So we got in the truck and drove to the road he was on 75 yards away. The next two days would prove textbook weird Bob.
We arrive at the Taj-Majal. In checking in, the lobby is loaded with Pakistani’s. They are in the lobby relaxation area watching a Pakistani sit-com on the 52” flat screen. They are yelling at the TV in their native tongue and laughing it up. Again I shake my head and smile.. “Only in America” I say to myself.
The temperature in the lobby is about 110 degrees. Again, I am daydreaming. I am thinking of the heat in Dubai and thousands of people living all over each other. The vision is grim. Raji at the desk checks me in. He is elated we are here. “Roger” as he wants to be called, is wearing a very tight fitting, stained, poly-knit long sleeve shirt complete with Curry and dried rice morsels attached. His pleated Dockers pants are equally soiled and he is donning signature Johnny 5 vinyl sandals. His toes are narrow and the nails are long and serrated. A human weapon of sorts, both bio-hazard and edged. I settle up and bid him farewell. The fumes of Curry and Lysol destroyed my nasal cavity.
Nonetheless we gain entry to our rooms which are nicely decorated and newly refurbished. There no bed bugs that I can find. I clear the room for entry and begin to unpack our gear. It is 10 pm and so far no one has died or harmed in any way . Jon sets up the cot for Bob, I am already in my bed ready to crash when bob drops his pants and is standing there bare assed naked attempting to put on fleece pajama bottoms complete with South Park characters. John just stops what he is doing I am freeze in horror as his 70 yr old gluteal cleft is about a foot from me. I look at John, and he is staring in disbelief with moth dropped and eyes bugged out. I just want to die.
The alarm rings at 4:30 AM. I am already dressed and ready to hunt as I got my gear on and went back to bed in the middle of the night to avoid any further gluteal attacks on the wake-up call. Bob looks at me and blurts ..”ahh your already dressed”? I reply it was “ass magic”. He stares for a moment and begins to install his upper denture left on my nightstand.
The room is 80 degrees and the heat is off. Bob dons his orange clothing and then puts on a large cobalt blue down coat and a knit wool cap that stood an honest 20” off his head. It reminded me of a mutation between “Poppa Smurf” and “Beldar” of the Cone Heads from Saturday Night Live of the 70’s. Hell, I have not even gotten to the woods yet and all this drama is occurring. I am ready to open a vein.
We arrive at the farm. There is a gate with a combination lock and a key lock the combo has been frozen for years so we now use a key. Bob gets out and spends the next 20 minutes attempting to undo the combo lock even though he has a key. Mind you it is dark out and he is working off headlight beams at 70 + yrs. of age. I look over at John and he is looking back at me smiling. I could do nothing but grunt in amazement.
This whole time I am waiting for Bob to just lose it and go psycho gorilla on the lock. I would have done that in 30 seconds but not him. I finally can’t take anymore I jump out of the truck, whip out the key open the lock and open the gate, I say to Bob “c’mon we are losing time here and I am not getting any younger”. At that point I think my displeasure was felt.
We park, and gather our gear. I look over at Bob and he is still wearing that friggin parka and wool cap . I tell Bob.. “Bob, this is gun season, the orange MUST be seen or you are illegal”. He looks at me and seriously asks ..”why”? I pat him on the shoulder and advise.. “good luck”. I skulk off into the darkness on my mile walk to my stand. I swear it took me a good 20 minutes to calm down. In the stand I go, and 2 hours later I have an 8 pointer on the ground. Not a bad day after all.
After attending to my deer, we break for lunch. Other members have arrived and are going to hunt. I made lunch for 2 days and I did make an extra sandwich or two just in case the hero of the damned forgot. The others are pulling out food and the sort. Bob is standing there with his Sponge Bob Square Pants front teeth hanging out. One of the guys offers Bob a sandwich and drink he gladly accepts. When done consuming the gift, he goes into his truck and whips out a sub and a soda and proceeds to tear it up like a Sarah Palin at a Christian convention for liberals . Again, John and I are staring in amazement.
The afternoon set was quiet but I was entertained by watching Bob on the field move his stand every 20 minutes or so to cover the field. I was inside the woods in my perch enjoying the show. Later I asked Bob what he was doing, he replied trying to catch them moving through. I stated you are in the middle of a wide open 200 acre picked field, by moving so much, did it ever occur you may be being watched by deer on the edges? He shrugged his shoulders. That evening at dinner he was fairly normal and advised he just bought a ranch in Colorado and was moving next month. He also stated he was going after Elk.
Again John and I stared open mouthed and in disbelief. To myself, I say .. “Only in America”.