Whose On First?

[shakey legs 2]

For those of you who go to Red Lake on a regular basis, I thought I would share a story from several years ago.  If you have experienced the triangle, you will be able to relate.

                     Whose on First?

The Scene:  Upper Red Lake Waskish, MN. Fishing 
                    for crappies

The Setting:  A small portable barely large enough
                     for two lard buckets

The Characters:  My friend Doc, his two sons
                           Cheese and Corndog, Squirrely
                           (Cheese's friend) and yours truly
                           Shakey Legs 2

"Why don't you guys set up right here", Doc instructed Cheese and Squirrely.  It was Sunday, the last day of a 3 day trip to the URL in search of the elusive crappie.  By now we had settled into a routine that went something like this:  Head out at noon, buy minnows, pay the access fee at the resort and get set up for the evening bite.  After fishing 4-5 hours, pull the pin at 8:00 p.m.  and begin the 90 mile drive back to Doc's cabin near Walker.  In between driving and fishing, we cleaned fish, discussed strategy for the next outing and straightened out our fishing gear from the previous night.  You can't believe how tangled your jiggle sticks can get when the bite is on, the lighting poor and you are slightly discombobulated.

We crossed the planked bridge over the pressure out of the West Wind Resort and headed south along the plowed road through the maze of rental units.  The ice hosted a virtual "small city" with every imaginable fishing shelter from elaborate manufactured sleepers with every convenience to the hastily constructed one-man shack made of plywood and blue plastic tarp.  After leaving Cheese and Squirrely at our "hot spot" from the night before, we headed further south and west a couple of hundred yards to the edge of a small pressure ridge.  After punching holes for Corndog's one-man unit, were ready to get our portable erected.  "let's set up far enough away from the dog so we don't have to listen to him yap about all the fish he's catching", Doc said.  That was fine with me.  I was happy to see the Corndog catch fish but I didn't care to hear his favorite phrase, "the student has become the teacher", for the 100th time.

After the holes were drilled and cleaned, heater and lantern lit, I tuned in some off-beat Canadian rock station on the radio and prepared myself to do battle.  One problem - the crappies forgot there was a war going on.  "Hand me the walkie-talkie", Doc mumbled.  "I want to see how the boys are doing".  We soon found out that the boys were into them big time while we had nary a nibble.  "I'm glad for them", Doc Said.  "They've had a rough two days up here with no sleep and only a few fish to show for it".  "They deserve to get into a hot bite"!

As I listened to the radio commentator talk about parliament and temperatures recorded in Celsius, I noticed the wind had picked up appreciably and the canvas on our portable started to flap and billow inward.  Every time I have been up here it's been windy, I thought.  Doc's bobber rapidly disappearing down the hole jolted me out of my daydream.  "It's a big one!", Doc shouted.  Just then the walkie-talkie crackled to life.  "How are you doing out there Doc?"  After Doc flipped the fish outside, rebaited and got back down the hole he picked up the walkie-talkie and replied,  "All Hell's breaking loose!"  Translation - we had caught one fish.  The wind's intensity was increasing and I heard the announcer say something about 40 kilometers out of the south.  Before the words were out of his mouth, the tent began to shake violently and one of the aluminum cross bars supporting the canvas roof popped loose from it's connection sending the lanterns suspended from the ceiling plunging toward the floor.  It seemed like everything was suspended in time but we immediately leaped into action and grabbed the sagging crossbar and in the process, rescued the lanterns and us from certain disaster.  With one hand supporting each of the lanterns we were able to reconnect the wayward crossbar and return things to some semblance of order.  "Holy x#$*"  that was close!" exclaimed Doc.  "When we pack up, one of us has to stay inside at all times or this thing is going to end up in Canada!"

The action was sporadic for the rest of the evening and our pre-arranged stopping time was at hand.  "You stay in the house and hand stuff to me while I load the vehicle", Doc ordered.  Out went the jiggle stick bucket, ice skimmer, tackle box and empty beer bottles.  The propane heater and radio went in the last trip until only the lanterns remained.  Doc stepped back into the house to help me take down the lanterns and asked, "where's the radio?"  "You took it with you in the last load", I replied.  "I didn't pick up any radio", I would have remembered", Doc firmly stated.  "I saw you grab it", I protested.  "Maybe you kicked it down the hole", Doc shot back.  I thought Doc must be having a senior moment as I clearly remembered seeing him grab the big boom box out of the house.  Could I have accidentally kicked it down the hole I wondered?  "There's no damn way that radio went down the hole".  "Maybe you set it down on the ice and the wind blew it away", I fired back.  "We ain't leaving until we find the God D___ walkie-talkie!"  "Walkie-talkie?", I said.  "You asked where's the radio", the walkie-talkie is in my pocket".  We both got a s###t eating grin on our faces, looked at each other and laughed.  What's that Abbot and Costello shtick? - Who's on first? What's on second?  We finished tearing down the house without any more major mishaps with the both the radio and walkie-talkie securely in our possession.

On the way home the next day we rehashed the weekend trip and shared a few chuckles, especially about the "missing radio".  "You know", Doc continued the conversation, "It's just like an old married couple arguing about the same thing and both of them realizing they were right".  I don't know about you Doc, I thought, but in my house when it comes to arguments, I'm never right!

[jigglestick]

that was right on par for the big red pond shakey 

let me share one from a few years back as well.

the second year we went up to red, it was myself, my brother Steve, Putz, Moron,Uncle Nutsy and who ever else, i don't quite recall, but that is good enough for the story.
this was back in the day when any idiot could catch their limit of fifteen and did.
we were five miles out of Hudec's resort, all set up and pounding the fish.
making the rounds, checking in on everyone, i popped in on uncle Nutsy.
"Nice fish house" i exclaimed.
"It's the new clam 6800" "got a heck of a deal on it" replied Nutsy.
"Hey look at what packer gave me for my birthday".
it was a brand new leatherman.
he proceeded to show me all of its blades and functions. "cool"! i said. "hey whats with all the zip ties? i asked.
"I like to keep my crap organized" "I like to zip tie the wires running up to my electric lights, to the poles so they don't get in my way". hmmm?
thinking of my shack with all the lantern and Mr. heater burn holes from being in the way or being set up or taken down in haste, not to mention the poorly located heater that caught  Burny on fire, but that was another story..."don't you think that is a little over kill" i asked?
"hell no"  "well worth the trouble".
"good luck" i said as i went to my disorganized fish house, from which i proceeded to catch my limit in about a half hour.

after we had our fish and we were getting our stuff packed away, I heard "BLANKITY BLANK!! SON OF A BLANK, BLANKER-BLANKER, WHAT THE BLANK!"
there stood the Moron outside the 6800 with that crap eating grin on his face. still not knowing what happened, brother Steve came from behind the camper and asked if i saw what happened. i replied "no"
he said that uncle Nutsy was taking down his fish house. he was using his new leatherman that Packer gave him for his birthday to cut the zip ties, and he slipped and blade through his Brand new 6800!!
boy did he curse. i thought he'd never get packed he spent so much time bitchin.

we pulled off the ice in single file, following the long line of tail lights. remember those long streams of lights?
I hooked onto the camper to drag it back to shore to leave it at Hudec's for the week.
once on shore, i backed the camper in the storage area and started cranking the jack. the jack started lifting the truck. i couldn't get the hitch to pop loose from the truck. we had two of us lard asses jumping on the bumper but it still wouldn't pop loose.
then finaly brother Steve said hey why don't we try flipping open the latch?
DUH! we flipped the latch and the truck dropped away from the hitch just like their supposed to.
it was then that uncle Nutsy felt it time to get out of his truck and say" who's the rocket scientist who forgot to un-do the latch??!!"
I looked at him and said "at least I didn't cut a hole in my brand new fish house with my brand new knife that my kid just gave me"

He turned and got back in his truck without saying another word!!

i have at least a hundred stories just like that one. anybody else care to share some of their comical red lake antics?