Ah, another infamous Fishing Opener in Minnesota. It seems like it was only a year ago. Hard to believe that I have been going to these for over thirty years now. In all that time I have only missed one, and I have to fly to Minnesota. We've got a pretty steady crew, though.
The Core Of The Rotten Apple
That is my buddy Jerry on the left, he owns the cabin, then Bar Man, my friend Bruce who I have known since about the second grade (I have known his wife since kindergarten) and Jon, who I went to Costa Rica with earlier this year.
Two more of the core couldn't make it, unfortunately. My friend Chris, who often visits me in Puerto Vallarta, is recovering from nymphomania, or something like that, and Cubby who had his car all packed and ready to go and then woke up too sick to make it. But we had a few visitors so we still had a decent crowd.
By the way, I had those tee-shirts we are wearing custom made to honor a friend of ours who used to come to the Fishing Opener but has now decided he prefers hunting turkeys. His name is Rico and his favorite expression is, you guessed it, "fuck em.'" And he says it so often that the phrase "What would Rico say?" has crept into our collective vocabulary.
Because of the wording on the shirts I am using Flickr to host these pictures because Photobucket would probably delete them. That is why the picture quality is not as good. I don't know how you can just embed the image code. Instead I did a copy and paste and then when you select the picture size it expands the copied image. Hence the fuzziness.
The above picture is from Photobucket. I want to see if it stays there. You can see the difference in quality.
One of our visitors was Skip, another old friend that goes way back to the early 70's and who now has a house on the lake. Jerry, Jon and Skip all grew up in Northern Minnesota but then they all moved to Minneapolis which is where I met them.
Skip, Just Chillin'
And for those who think we don't really fish:
Hey, We're Fishin' Here
Well, there is a line in the water and, believe it or not, we did catch a small bass that we released. The fellow on the left is my brother, Marty, and he was the second visitor. He actually stayed over a couple of nights while Skip came over two days but went home, about ten minutes away, to sleep in less onerous, and certainly less odorous, conditions. Well, I am making some assumptions about his wife, but I think they are fair enough.
In the past I would bring a cheesecake from Junior's here in Brooklyn every year but lately everyone prefers pastrami and corned beef from Katz's deli in Manhattan. Katz's is where they shot that faked orgasm scene in the movie "When Harry Met Sally." I picked up rye bread and Swiss cheese to make grilled Reubens and Jon brought homemade (he actually did make it) Russian dressing.
Reubens Before The Meat
As always, we had plenty to eat including Sufferin' Succotash that my brother made, venison, corned beef and eggs for breakfast, trout, all kinds of sausages from our friend Albie, who never actually comes to the Fishing Opener, and a lot more that I can't remember.
And, of course, we had plenty to drink.
It was a beautiful weekend, sunny and warm and quite windy. Given that rain or even snow isn't that uncommon in Minnesota this time of year, there certainly weren't any complaints.
And We Had Beautiful Sunsets
These geese were hanging out behind either the Eagle's Nest or the Blue Max (a couple of nearby bars).
A Gaggle Of Geese
And that was a short synopsis of the Fishing Opener. I got home on Monday and then yesterday I went in to have my belly button tuck. Not much to see because of the dressing (and I have to keep it on for nine days), but here's a picture nonetheless.
Looks Kind Of Gross
It looks worse than it is, although that doesn't mean it is comfortable. I will post another picture after the dressing is removed, and I know that you can hardly wait.
Oh, and for my brother-in-law who insists that I live in Brooklyn Heights and not Downtown Brooklyn:
Check This Out, Jim
I live in the building right across the street from that sign, the one with the blue awning. Jim insists that the dividing line between Brooklyn Heights and Downtown Brooklyn is Boerum/Brooklyn Bridge Blvd when it is actually Court Street, one block to the west.
Okay, that last bit was probably not that interesting to anyone other than Jim and me, but by golly, it is life-or death to us. That along with our discussions concerning which bar is the closest to me and whether or not Queen should be considered a bar. Ah, I am rambling. Probably the Oxycodone I am taking for the pain in my belly.