This is what they were hoping for; only on a river, with somebody at least semi-adequate with a set of oars.

This is a long one. And hold on tight

Some people just have NO sense of humor. The worse it got, the funnier it got – to me, anyway.

Here are couple of multiple choice questions:

Question #1:

You take delivery of a brand new drift boat just in time for opening day of fishing. Do you:

A…..Take the boat on its maiden voyage in relatively calm and uncrowded waters to learn how it behaves, or

This was my rookie impression.

B…..Have your son meet you at the house bright and early, tell your wife that she has the honor of oaring the brand new boat – even though she’s never rowed in her life – so you can both catch lots of fish, then choose the busiest stretch of river – which is running very fast due to Spring run-off – for the maiden voyage, and turn your inexperienced wife loose with the oars, and even though the river is about 300 yards wide she starts heading for the only other drift boat in the immediate vicinity, which is anchored about 100 yards down stream, but you don’t panic because there’s plenty of time to maneuver around it – if you have any concept about how to guide a drift boat – but very shortly find yourself panicking because your wife is not maneuvering around it, and both you and your son are now loudly instructing your wife to “drop the weight”, which she does, but neglects to lift her foot from the release, which has the consequence of dropping the weight, but still feeding the rope – which, incidentally, is about 5 feet longer than the distance from the dropped anchor to the oncoming obstacle – so that the anchor is where it needs to be, but the boat is still traveling at a high rate of speed towards the other boat, whose occupants by now are also panicking, because they realize that the Titanic is bearing down on them with no means of guidance, because your wife has now lifted the oars in preparation for the collision, which has the added consequence of beating the ever-lovin’ crap outta you and your son who are trying desperately to lessen the impact by hanging yourselves over the side in preparation of pushing away from the boat that got in your wife’s way, and you are dodging oars again because the occupants of the offending boat are poking their oars at your boat in a futile attempt to avoid being knocked ass-over-heels into what seems to your wife as Class 6 rapids, and the two boats meet with a teeth rattling crunch, landing all standing occupants of both boats on their ass, and your wife indignantly asking the question of the people in the other boat, “Where the Hell did YOU come from”, upon which the reply, “We were anchored here, for God’s sake!”, to which your wife replies, “Well, then, you saw me coming, why didn’t you pull up anchor?”, and during this exchange you are cranking in your ineffectual anchor, making apologies and excuses for your wife, having these apologies and excuses grudgingly accepted, but then, because you are a slow learner, and you really think you are going to be able to fish today, allow your wife to keep the oars and tell her to guide you over to a nice looking spot on the other side of the river, which just happens to have a huge boulder in the way…

Question #2:

Upon seeing the aforementioned boulder growing larger by the second, you…

This is sort of what they got. And really close up.

A…..Calmly alert your wife that there’s a boulder in front of you, and offer to take the oars, or

B…..Excitedly, and with some sarcasm, inform your wife that we’re heading for the “G-damned boulder, would you please turn the boat in another direction?” to which your wife says, “Oops, too late” but releases the anchor again, unfortunately forgetting to take her foot off the release (again), and this time the anchor rope is about ten feet longer than the distance from dropped anchor to boulder, but she does manage to dip one oar – and knock the crap outta you (again) with the other one – and get the boat turned sideways, hoping to make the inevitable sudden stop a little less bone jarring, which it does, but because the water is moving at a speed of, oh, let’s say, 40 miles per hour, it pushes your boat against – and hopelessly wedges it into – that big-assed freakin’ boulder that got in your wife’s way, and you ask your wife – again with sarcasm – “Are you really too stupid to row a boat?”, and realize what a huge mistake you just made by uttering that unfortunate observation because your wife is now looking at you with a smile that can only herald something ugly is about to happen – most likely to your personage – and she’s telling you in her most dangerous tone of voice – the calm one – through teeth that suddenly look like fangs, “I’ll bet that if I stuff this oar up your ass, you’ll make a great rudder and we won’t have a steering problem anymore”, to which you wisely say….nothing….and in the meantime, your son is out of the boat, precariously balanced between boulder and boat trying to work it loose and stay dry, which might have worked had you not suddenly decided that it would be safer anywhere but here with your wife and climbed out the other side, thus shifting the balance of the boat just enough to loosen the Demon-River’s grip on the boat, but also loosening your son’s grip on the rock and eliminating any chance he had at staying dry, and setting both your wife and the boat free – two occupants short, now – and both you and son are trying to chase after the boat (c’mon…running? Like, you really think you can catch the damned thing?), when you see the anchor rope drifting by and you grab on, making a lovely wake because of being pulled face-first for about 15 feet, which does slow the boat enough that – if your wife can manage the simple task of rowing upstream (but you wisely keep this thought to yourself) – you and your son can work their way back to the boat, which you ultimately do, and climb back in, but the urge to catch fish is infinitely larger than the urge to stay healthy, and you let your wife keep the oars and tell her to just stay in the middle of the river, that’s the safest bet, which it is – for the time being – and you are finally able to make a few casts when you hear your wife laughing and look up at the exact moment the mother-of-all-boulders suddenly leaps to the middle of the river…