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Breakfast with db | Saving Water, Showering with a

no-image


“Come

over baby whole lot of shaking going on…”

 

Dateline: Greyhawkin’ breakfast with db

I’m naked.

And it’s 40-degrees

outside.

I’m almost outside, the

only thing standing between my nakedness and the 40 degrees out there is some

cold concrete cinder blocks.

And a lizard.

Not to mention the guy in

the next shower stall singing some Elton John song.

I’m not moving.

Cold and shakin’ or not.

Yep, staying put right

here in this communal bathhouse thing.

“Shake

it baby shake…”

 

The reason I’m shakin’ and

communal bathin’ is because I’m only 2/3 full hooked up.

I have electric.

I have water.

I have no place to put the

water though once it goes through the sink … or you know … me.

The site I’m parked on has

no place to dump, ah, hmm … ah … dumps. So

all that stuff has to stay in the holding tanks in the db/bb/rv until I can get

to a joint where I can hit the flush handle.

For both tanks.

Grey Water … which frankly

isn’t close to that color with all the cold coffee, shampoo , soap, pieces of

spaghetti, a drop or two of Tequila, and a whole bunch of other stuff that goes

down the sinks in one form but somehow magically transforms into bubbles when

it comes out the grey tube.

Black Water … don’t even

ask. Just pull the Black handle and run…come

back in a week and cap the thing. If the

Middle Ages were like this, I’m flabbergasted that there was

A-Just-The-Other-Side-Of-The-Middle Ages.

But me and the Lizard are

still waiting this communal RV’ing out.

“Shake

it baby shake…”

 

Now you need to know that

just because I grew up in the summer of love, I never got communally unclothed

with anyone.

Most ever happened, took

my sandals off once at a Strawberry Alarm Clock concert. And for the record, I was one of the very few

people on the planet my age who I talk to now who doesn’t say I was at

Woodstock.

During August of 1969, my

arse was in summer school trying to pass English 10 before I actually stepped

into English 12 in my senior year at Kenmore West Sr. High School near Buffalo,

N.Y.

So I saw the lines of

hippies on the NYS Thruway; I just wasn’t in it.

Here’s something else I

wasn’t in back then — Communal High School Boys Gym Showers.

I chose to be the stinky

kid in class rather than the really embarrassed/self-conscious kid in the

shower.

Yeah that’s what I really

wanted to do, get all naked up in front of 60 or 70 of my best, or worst,

friends in the world. Especially the worst ones. We had this one dude, in the

worst category, who I can’t name because I don’t know if he turned into a

spiteful suing lawyer or where he lives now in case he is living right around

the corner here, who couldn’t play any sport if his life depended on it. But by

God, he could nail you with a towel snap from 50 yards behind your arse … which is

what he always aimed for.

Except me. Me, he did this: right

midway in the snap, right when the wet towel was still curled, he would yell

out “Hey Barone,” and as I would turn, the darn towel would

reach it’s most straightened *snap* point right at the spot my arse would have

been had I not turned.

Three class periods later,

I would crawl off the locker-room floor.

“Shake

it baby shake…”

 

 

Fast forward through the

flat belly years to the….well you know….the Middle Belly Years where you can

still wear a belt but you be dreaming of those “Comfort Waist” pants

in the Sears Catalog.

I’m working at the NBC

affiliate TV station in Pittsburgh, PA. My gig, during the summer, Pittsburgh Steelers Training Camp. So one day my boss, Brian, who I won’t name,

gets this hair brain idea and calls me into his office to tell me about it.

From multiple past

experiences just about everywhere, me being called into a bosses office has

never worked out to well for me. But I

go.

“Don (pre-db) got this

idea. Why don’t you get Media-Man (his real name is Joe but for some reason he

referred to himself as Media Man) and go on out to Steelers training camp … AND

STAY THERE A COUPLE OF DAYS.”

I have no idea how they

got this to happen, but I guess BILL COWHER being in his first year as head

coach was still just only Bill Cowher, and I was the least of his concerns

(probably even more so today).

So me and the Media Man

load up one of the not too broken TV station vans and headed out to Steeler

Camp. And there we lived for a couple of

days in the same dorm as the players. We

ate with them, we goofed with them, we talked with them, we watched them work

out, and …

… we showered with them.

Big “arse” mistake!

Having never been in a

dorm hall, I’m thinking the sign on the wall pointing to “SHOWERS”

was just a janitorial printing faux pas.

I was wrong.

Showers meant showers … multiple

professional NFL football players being showered. So I, being stupid, just peal down to my

nakedness and bound around the corner to scrub up …

… and there stands the

offensive front line of the Pittsburgh Steelers.

And they be all naked.

All I can say is, if you

yourself don’t happen to be an NFL offensive lineman, well, hmm, ah … you know …

“Shake

it baby shake…”

 

 

One last communal

showering issue. Back a couple of years ago, my kids for a Christmas present got

Barb and myself a night over at the Mohegan Sun Casino Resort. They got us a room and

some eating coupons or something.

So Barb and I pack a

little bag and head out for a night of giving the casino a massive amount of

money in the form of slot machines in return of which we can maybe get a

“free” hamburger.

But before I go, I call the

hotel just to make sure the kids didn’t send some sort of check that had

already bounced. The kids didn’t, and

the room was a waiting.

So then I told the front

desk person exactly this, “Good, because you know me and the wife are

celebrating our anniversary.”

And left it like that.

When we get to the hotel

the front desk, lady does the punching on the keyboard and reads the screen they

never let you read. She then looks up

and says to me, “Well congratulations Mr. and Mrs. Barone.”

I try and hush her up a

bit because I can see Barb looking at me with the “What-did-you-do-now

look” wives of 30 plus years have perfected.

But as we leave the

Check-In, the lady kills me by saying, “Have a Happy Anniversary.”

All the while up the

elevator Barb is looking at me, and then when we open the door to a huge corner

Master Suite Barb asks, “What exactly did you do?”

So I come almost clean and

say, “I just told them we are celebrating our Anniversary, which I do every

time I look into your eyes. I never said our Anniversary was today.”

Being that, in fact, it was

several months away. Can’t help what the

desk clerk thought they heard.

We kept the room upgrade

though.

So we are in this fancy

room, bigger than our first apartment, and it has this two person bath thing

right in front of a picture window. The

whole hotel is a glass tower, and one of those glass things is right by the

tub.

So I tell Barb, don’t

worry, it’s one-way glass. It has to be.

And I get in it, all naked

like, and I’m soaping and conditioning and standing up dancing all around

feeling like the rich Hollywood types. Barb would have none of it.

Next morning, Barb is over

by the sink and hits this one button by mistake, and behind me in the bath tub…a

before unseen heavy SHADE comes down over the

not-so-quite-one-way mirror/window.

dbbath2.jpg

Yeah.

So now you know the

history of me not doing well with this communal shower thing. I prefer my naked to be on me, and your naked

be on you.

And the two never lay eyes

on one another.

Which is why me and the

lizard are staying put until the guy singing in the shower next to me leaves.

But this darn lizard is starting

to do that push up thing.

And I’m not real sure what

that means.

“Well

I said shake baby shake

I said shake baby shake.”

Whole

Lot Of Shaking Goin’ On.

Jerry

Lee Lewis

 

db