Heading Down Under

Well, the time has come.  After months of preparing myself mentally for this seemingly mythical trip, it is here.  I thought that after purchasing my plane tickets for New Zealand, it would become real in my mind, but for some reason, it hasn’t quite sunk in as to what I am actually about to do.  I procrastinated for a week prior to my departure, saying initially that I would have my bags packed and ready to go by then.  I had all of my gear in a corner of my room taunting me and beckoning me to act, however, it didn’t end up happening until late the night before.  It took all of a half hour to organize my clothing and gear on my bed, constantly downsizing and objectively predicting what I would actually need.  I am notorious for over packing and in this case, that option isn’t an option.  One pair of pants, a few pairs of skivees, a few pairs of socks, a couple t-shirts, rain jackets, two pairs of wading shorts and pants, camping gear and of course, my fishing gear.  Two packs and two carry-ons later, I had what appeared to be an overwhelming amount of stuff packed tightly into the chosen bags.  It was a strange feeling lugging all of the bags down to the front hall to await being loaded into the car for my drive to the airport the following morning.

I left early, being driven by my sister in law, Christine, on Monday morning to drive the two hours to Milwaukee airport to get to my 12:55 pm flight to Los Angeles.  What I didn’t realize when I booked my flight, was I chose it due to its cheap price and not by where the flight passed through.  I ended up having to fly from Wisconsin to Atlanta to then fly all the way across the country to L.A.  If anyone can tell me how that makes a lick of sense, please feel free to let me know.  Instead of having two potentially shorter flights, I ended up willingly signing myself up for a three-hour flight followed by as long of a domestic flight as they come at around 6 hours or so.  That’s ok though, because I love flying so much.  (Insert sarcasm here).

My flights were uneventful, however, I do have an unbelievable knack at booking seats next to large individuals.  Being a larger guy myself, there isn’t a whole lot of flexibility when it comes down to extra space on airplanes.  I am usually one of the last people on a flight, simply because I could either sit and wait in the tight, constricting space of an airplane seat or I could sit and wait in the luxury of the airport seats with legs stretched out in luxury.  The departure time won’t bump ahead if I board early or late.  When I board a flight, since most everyone is seated ahead of me, I am intently scanning ahead to see who will be my future seat buddy for the next X amount of hours.  I got a little excited when I saw the crown of a white haired lady that looked to be small and compact.  When I reached my row, I immediately noticed she was a little wider in the hips and in addition to that extra width was wearing an aggressively large ankle length puffy winter coat that cascaded into half of my seat.  I assumed she would remove the coat, however, most likely due to her older age, and being cold by nature she remained content with her outer wear choice.  I sat down next to her, passed her the awkward half grin, signaling “hello” and took my seat.  I searched for my seat belt, which she was inevitably sitting on, and pursued to gingerly search until I had to ask her to lift a cheek.  Once I was belted, I felt the pressure of confined space and realized that her coat felt as though its pockets were stuffed with multiple pairs of down mittens, causing an uncomfortable pressure in my side.  Luckily, this occurred on the shorter of the two flights and I wasn’t stricken with claustrophobia for too long.   

I got into Los Angeles that night and was greeted by Les, Zach and my buddy Alex who was nice enough to house us for two nights while we waited for our flight out of the country.  My arrival was met with nothing else but Wild Turkey whiskey, which I haven’t been too accustomed to drinking in the last four months while living at home with Mother.  Needless to say, my brain became a touch fuzzy resulting in a glorious first day in California.  (Insert sarcasm here). 

We didn’t do a whole lot very quickly on Tuesday morning.  We got some breakfast at the Firehouse, which is maybe just under a mile from Al’s house in Venice.  After devouring some chicken fried steak even though the gravy tasted exactly, in my opinion, like Shark Bites fruit snacks, we “rested” a little more once we got back to the house.  We then ventured to Venice Beach, which is a spectacle in itself.  Lot’s of crazies.  I haven’t heard so many people so angrily talking to themselves in such a short amount of time.  There was once guy yelling about a “F#CKING REBATE CHECK!!!”, another woman really angry at something (couldn’t make out what exactly that was), and another guy who was really fed up with his “F#CKING PHONE CHARGER!!!” that was dragging in the sand behind him.  I can totally understand that one.  That damn phone charger dragging like that?  Totally unable to be picked up to prevent the damn thing from dragging in the sand?  “F#CKING PHONE CHARGER!!!” is right.

The rest of our stay in L.A. was fun.  It was pretty relaxed.  We went out to eat a few times, had some laughs and ended our interim in California on Wednesday night.  Our second wave of flights from L.A. to Brisbane, Australia and then Brisbane to Christchurch, New Zealand were a little more eventful.  First of all, the alcohol was free for the entire flight.  We didn’t get out of control with this, however it made the flight a little more doable.  After watching my third movie in a row, I got a little restless, rallied the troops and headed to the flight attendants area to inquire about beer orders.  After grabbing a VB (Victoria Bitter), we went to mess with Les, who was doped up on Ambien and then resided in the galley area between sections on the airplane.  We stayed there for at least 3 or 4 hours, hanging out with various other passengers and conversing with all of the flight attendants.  At one point in the flight we had the curtains closed on both sides, while the flight attendant poured us a shot of rum.  It truly was a different plane experience than anything else I had ever experienced.  When the pilot turned the “Seatbelt” sign back on, we returned to our seats and slept for the remainder of the flight. 

We spent the next 12 hours in the Brisbane airport, being harassed by ridiculously inflated prices.  We bought a sub from Subway and started singing the song, “14….14 dollar….. 14 dollar foot long…..  Pretty depressing.  Other than sit at a food court table, and stare at floor, we spent the rest of the time sleeping on the couches at the terminal.  For some reason, that second flight, which was only three hours long, felt like an eternity.  The anticipation and the fact that we were going on hour 30 of our travel day, made the last lag seem longer and more drawn out.  But, we got to Christchurch safe and sound and were ripping and roaring to start our adventure.  New Zealand, here we come!!!!

Wedding Woes

After graduating college, it is an inevitability that the love birds that were once soaring up and out of our male comprehension, come crashing down to earth like a peregrine and begin their feast upon the hearts of men everywhere.  The "ring by spring" mentality held true for quite a few of my comrades in college.  At first, I welcomed the idea.  Standing up in a wedding as a 22 year old is something special.  First, it most likely is a new experience, so whether you enjoy broadening your horizons or not, that could always be a plus.  Second, you don't care as much about the price of the tux, but are more concerned with the fact that you actually get to where one.  Third, everyone you know most likely lives in one area.  There aren't any plane tickets, rental cars or crazy hotel accommodations.  Everything is cheap and convenient.  And lastly, the celebration includes loads and loads of single, eligible ladies that are down to have a good time on the dance floor.  There wasn't much working against weddings at that time.  If anything, it was a recommended activity among friends.

Now, at age 26, I am cursed by weddings.  I am happy to take part and support whatever friend it is getting hitched, however, they have an uncanny ability to lump together like pudgy kids around a cake.  A wedding here and there is fun.  They're usually expensive but manageable when faced individually.  But, when you start piling them atop of one another, instead of focusing on the couple at the altar and demonstrating your love and support, visions of dollar signs starting dancing through your head.  And, because I am older and most likely the bride and groom are older, inevitably the entire friend base is older, meaning not too many ringless fingers in the crowd.  I often find myself alone on the dance floor, usually two sheets to the wind, uncomfortably sweaty for me and everyone around me, doing some attempt at a C-walk or performing hip gyrations that should be illegal in multiple states.  

The reason for my rant, is this fall alone from September thru the beginning of October I was in three weddings.  Two groomsman and an usher.  One in Seattle, one in Montana, one in Chicago.  I don't know if you know this, but the three places are not close to each other.  Two of them were back to back weekends.  My stamina isn't what it used to be.  All of the rehearsals, dinners, need to be here, need to be there.  It's exhausting.  And most importantly, I needed to conserve myself for all three dance floors.  Because everyone knows, that is where I shine.  Ha!  

The wedding extravaganza began in the middle of September in Seattle.  This was still within the fishing season at the ranch, so I only got three days for travel and the wedding before I had to head back to work.  Needless to say, it was fun but abbreviated.  I never felt quite settled.  Like I was in a rush the entire time, which, as it turns out I kind of was.  The second lag of weddings began immediately after Vegas.  We hadn't made the Vegas plan until towards the end of our time at the ranch.  So, like a grown up, I planned ahead and booked my flights for Montana well in advance so I didn't suffer the financial toll that procrastination tends to deliver.  I bought the ticket for the morning of October 5th at 8:30 am from Denver, which is a solid 4 1/2 to 5 hour drive from the ranch.  What I didn't know was that we were soon going to make a plan to travel to the Grand Canyon and Las Vegas on October 1st and returning on the night of October 4th.  In hindsight, I should have scrapped the Vegas plan and leisurely arrived in Denver a day or so in advance.  But that would be too easy.  Instead, we left from Vegas at 8:00 am on October 4th and drove the fourteen hours back to Creede, CO arriving at around 10:45 pm, obviously losing an hour along the way due to the change in time zone.  Lovely.  After returning, we then had to empty my truck of everyone's gear and fill the back of my truck with all of my belongings to make my final departure from the ranch for the season and make it to Denver with plenty of time to get to my flight.  I ended up leaving 4UR Ranch at roughly 11:45 pm and disappeared into the darkness.  

I knew I was in bad shape when at 25 minutes into my 5 hour excursion my eyelids began to feel heavy.  I remembered I had one adderall left and immediately started popping pills to stay alert.  When that started to fail, I stopped for a coffee and a coke.  Once caffeine started to slip, I started packing my tin of Copenhagen.  On top of all of these stimulants, I had a steady flow of Eminem blasting on repeat over the speakers.  Finally, after driving straight through the night, I made it to Denver around 5 am and parked my truck in front of my buddy's house who said he would drive me to the airport so I wouldn't have to suffer weeks of parking fees.  Great guy.  Anyway, I made it to the airport with plenty of time only to realize after 20 minutes of arguing with the lady at the United Airlines desk that I was on the 8 o'clock flight to Missoula, that I was actually flying Delta.  Give me a break... I blame this mishap on sleep deprivation.  I got to Missoula, and was picked up by the groom.  We got burgers and beers at the favorite Missoula Club, or "Mo Club" in downtown Missoula, MT.  I immediately vanished to the river and fished for the rest of the afternoon.  I was reminded again how much I love Montana.  There really is nothing like it.  It's hard to explain unless you have ever lived there.  But I digress.  I didn't end up getting to bed until almost 1 am that night meaning that I was officially awake, aside from the unproductive sleep on the plane, for roughly 43 1/2 hours straight.  A NEW RECORD!  I didn't even reach this total from my all nighters in college.  From my understanding, if I would have made it to 48 hours I would have been clinically out of my mind.  Too bad I didn't push through the extra 4 1/2 hours. I hear crazy people have way more fun than us sane brains.   

Overall, I had an awesome time at the weddings.  All three were very good friends of mine and I wouldn't have missed them for the world.  It is fun to bad mouth weddings, however I do it in good fun.  If anything, I am reminded by weddings that I remain a bachelor and to be honest don't see wedding bells anywhere in the near future.  For the time being, I throughly enjoy my freedom as a single guy.  I guess I'll just have to continue to rub it in to all of my married friend's faces that I am having the time of my life and chipping away at my retirement bucket list at age 26.  I'll make sure to send them some post cards.  

 

Life After the Ranch

Since leaving 4UR, life has been an absolute whirlwind.  You work your tail off at the ranch and then nothing.  No immediate responsibilities, nowhere to be, the world is your oyster.  Part of you wants nothing more than to throw on a pair of sweats (shirt optional), find a couch on a Sunday and do nothing but sit, lay down or a combination of both and watch football from noon until the late night game ends, unable to distinguish between meals because you have been in a constant state of grazing on snack food for the entire day.  However, another part of you wants to spend this time exploring, taking advantage of this "free" time to do whatever it is you wanted to do but couldn't due to work.  I chose the latter.

My month long hiatus began with me getting a tattoo.  I'd show a picture, but I don't have any.  A.J. and Zach got ink as well, adding to the tat fest.  The following day ten of us from the ranch ventured to the Grand Canyon and Las Vegas for a few days.  We left early to 1. Get to the grand canyon in plenty of time to get to our camp site, do some sightseeing, make a fire and inevitably have a few beers in the process and 2. Avoid the giant cross country meet held at the ranch that supposedly hosted every high school in the entire southwest corner of Colorado.  In other words, an absolute fiasco that we wanted no part of.  There were five ladies and five guys going on this trip and obviously we segregated the two cars by sex.  We also utilized the bed of my truck (which has a topper) as both the luggage and gear area as well as the sleeping and entertainment zone.  First off, we loaded the girls' SUV with as much stuff as we could cram, and then organized our gear on either side of the truck bed with my memory foam mattress pad unrolled beneath everything, leaving an alley of comfort for the passenger's movie watching or sleeping pleasure.  Regardless, the car ride was made that much better leaving only four guys up front and the fifth thoroughly enjoying himself in the back.

We had a little scare about two hours shy of the grand canyon.  At the time, without going into the boring details as to why, my truck was unregistered and uninsured.  Pretty much we were riding dirty.  I'm not sure what the consequence of this broken law is, but I can't imagine there's anything good that could come from it.  As we rolled into a gas station to refuel, get snacks and relieve our bladders, some of the crew started talking to this homeless man who asked for a cigarette or change or something to aid his bad habits.  He told us that there was a fugitive on the loose that had broken out of a nearby prison and stole a car.  We didn't think much of it until he continued to say that there was a road block up ahead on the highway we were on where police officers were checking cargo, I.D.s and vehicle REGISTRATIONS!  I wasn't sure what to think of this.  We had already come about six hours and I wasn't about to make the decision to turn back.  I tried to act as cool and collected as I could but inside I felt like I was going to puke on my shoes.  And they weren't even shoes, they were sandals and God knows I didn't feel like puking on my bare feet.  I told everyone that we should keep going.  I figured the police were only looking for names to match up on the registration not for expiration dates and license plate tags.  So we pressed on.  We reached the intersection of the highways the bum had described and... no road block.  Surprisingly, it felt bitter sweet.  I was all amped up, mentally preparing myself to deal with cops.  After we saw that there were no cops, I wanted to head back to the bum and mention to him that his information was false and to take the cigarette back that he obviously did not deserve.  Obviously, we were thrilled to be able to continue on our journey without any hiccups, but you have to wonder whether that guy actually thought there was a road block or if he intentionally was toying with us.  I guess we'll never know.

The rest of the trip to the Grand Canyon was pretty uneventful.  The canyon was really cool.  Bigger than I could have imagined.  The camping was fun.  And the next morning we got up early, bought some breakfast and began our journey to Vegas.

Vegas, for those who haven't been there, is an unbelievable place.  It is definitely somewhere that everyone should visit once in their lives.  However, for me, it might only be once.  I hate Las Vegas.  Yeah, it's unbelievable, overly extravagant, and impressive, but it is like a giant leech.  It almost literally sucks money right from your bank account, it sucks your energy due to lack of sleep, it sucks your sobriety away from you, and sucks the fun out of you due to all of the above.  I was never quite sure what time it was, for the three nights I was there I amounted to about 10 hours of quality sleep, and I never quite knew whether I was drunk or hungover.  It is the only place that at 4:30 am you think it is a good idea to go gamble some more.  The spectrum of emotion that I witnessed and endured is beyond anything I had seen to date.  So again, Las Vegas is an unbelievable place, but it is one that I don't feel a drive to visit again anytime soon.  Maybe when I am a millionaire and losing 50 bucks doesn't hurt as bad as it does now.  Until then, I am just a down and out fisherman who was swallowed up by a beast called Vegas.

More post ranch saga to come...

It's Official

So I have been on the road for awhile and haven't had a whole lot of opportunity to blog, but I promise I will bring everyone up to speed as I become more settled down and inevitably more bored.

A quick but exciting thing has happened in the last couple days.  I bought my tickets for New Zealand!  It's official.  We're leaving on January 11th and returning May 1st.  It feels good to get that done.  A huge relief.  In less than two months, we'll be standing in a river in New Zealand with the opportunity to hook into the fish of our lifetime.  Not too many people get that opportunity.  

I can't put into words how excited I am for this next adventure.