Wednesday, October 1, 2008
Many of you have heard this story, but nonetheless it must be added to the archives. This occurred sometime during my senior year in high school, so roughly 1996-97. Dad and Brett had recently visited the Green River having paid a guide to take them fly fishing. They had such a great time and had caught so many fish that dad decided it would be nice to go again, but this time take me. I was thrilled! So, dad, mom and myself set out for the Green River and a weekend full of fishing fun. We arrived at the motel and aranged our gear for the morning while mom rested on the bed reading an array of dramatic novels (cleverly concealed with a cross-stitched cover) and people magazine. Dad and I made sure that we had packed cherry lifesavers to cure nausea, black cherry shasta and Chicken N' a Biscuit crackers. The next morning we set out for the Green River. The day did not start as expected. Dad's eyes were experiencing a bout of dryness and with the warm and dry weather the condition worsened a little. We arrived at the guide station and proceeded to meet our guide, who dad was sure would be wonderful. We met our guide, who's name and appearance conjured visions of trailer parks, pit bulls and moonshine. He stood there with cigarette in his 50 year old hand ready to prove to a dental professional and his son why Guidism should be a recognized trade and not simply a summer job. I have to admit his ability to row and steer the boat with his knees, shed the ashes off his cigarette with one hand and tie on flies, dropper rigs and drink his cheap President's Choice beer with the other was astounding. Although not recognizable as a trade I am sure He would make the top 10 in America's Got Talent. Well, with the weather and smoke from the guides cigarette dad's eyes got itchier and redder, so he began doctoring them with Visine. The day went well, and we caught a lot of fish. Sometime late in the afternoon we shored the boat and headed back to the motel. I was on the bed watching TV and dad was walking around in his single piece garment. Before going to sleep dad thought it would be a good idea to squirt a few more drops of Visine into his eyes. He had removed his glasses several minutes ago and was basically grabbing at blurred images. Taking what he thought was Visine from off the TV set, he tilted his head back, forced his eyelids open and began administering liquid relief to his moisture barren visual sensory organs. After a moment of sighing relief his body tensed and visual discomfort was evident. He first rubbed his eyes and confused said, "This stuff burns a little, it shouldn't hurt like this" and then with a trembling concern he exclaimed louder, "What is this, damn it really burns!" He quickly reached for the bottle of Visine, squinted and when his eyes interpruted the label on the bottle, the panic set in. He howled loudly, "Oh, Damn! Damn! Damn! Damn!" As he rushed to the bathroom mom and I asked what was the matter. Again howling from the bathroom he said, "Ohhhh, I put Lotrim AF (liquid anti-fungal medicine) in my eyes, it wasn't Visine." Well, after seeing dad dance around rubbing his eyes in a single unit garment, hearing that he had applied Lotrimin AF to his eyes allowed a flood of laughter to escape from mom and me. Hearing the laughter dad accusingly bellowed, "You two, stop it! I'm in here dying and all you can do is laugh?" To say the least dad once again found a way to increase the memory value of an already great family outing.