The Most Humiliating Day of My Life

It is probably fair to say that a couple of the most dramatic moments in my lifetime have occurred while fishing. It is odd that neither of these life-changing episodes have had anything to do with catching fish. It is also odd that I really never have fished that much either. In my 40-plus years of life, I always assumed that the worst thing that could happen while fishing is that I wouldn't catch anything. A few years ago, I learned that something much worse can happen and it has nothing to do with drowning in an overturned boat. Nor does it have anything to do with lightening, tornados or being instantly struck dead by a falling boulder. Granted, tragedies like these do tend to put a damper on your fishing plans, but they don't quite compare to the shame and embarrassment of the event I'm about to confess.

Today marks the 5-year anniversary of a vacation my family enjoyed together with some good friends of ours at Grand Lake. Earlier on that day, we enjoyed a boat ride in Grand Lake, and my friend, David celebrated his 50th birthday by jumping off the boat for an invigorating swim in the bitter cold water. You have to understand that David is the most optimistic, fun-loving guy I have ever known in order to appreciate the full meaning of what went on later that day. David has a zeal and appreciation for life that I've always envied, and I've never seen him discouraged by a little adversity. This day would be no different. It seemed there was no fish to be caught in Grand Lake, so we left for another destination, hopefully to find some trout, and enjoy one last night together, before heading back home on Saturday. It was his birthday and David was not going to spend the day without reeling in a few trout. Not on his 50th birthday. No way. He made this clear to all of us. On our way to the town of Winter Park we passed a nice little fishing pond. Oddly, the pond looked very quiet for a Friday afternoon. We'd have it all to ourselves. We booked a couple of rooms at the Hotel and while the family explored the town, David and I packed up our gear, got into his shiny-new forest-green Hummer, and headed towards the pond.

We had just about everything we needed: fishing poles, tackle, cigars, David's acoustic guitar and a full bag of sunflower seeds. As luck would have it, there was a liquor store on the way and we completed our list of essentials with a 6-pack of New Belgium Ale. Looking back at all my fishing trips, it seems obvious to me why beer is one of the top companions of fisherman: You can still feel good even when you're not catching anything. Of course, that was the last thing on David's mind. He wasn't going to get shut-out. Not on his 50th birthday. He was very clear about this. Having the place to ourselves, we were able to drive the Hummer right alongside the bank. We got out and rigged up our poles. I went to the far end of the pond, opened a bottle of the beer and looked forward to the relaxation of our surroundings, as much as the trout we were bound to catch. The water was calm. I wondered why the fish weren't jumping after flies on the water's glassy surface. I looked over at David, and he seemed unconcerned. They must be on the bottom. If not for the occasional car or truck headed down the highway, it was so quiet you could hear a fly touch the water. Yet, no flies, mosquitoes or gnats seemed to be bothering us. It really was quiet, I thought. I reeled in, checked the salmon eggs on my line and adjusted them with my fingers. I cast out my line again, dried my hands on my pants, and took a swig of my beer. I thought I heard something. Was it David? It sounded like someone in the distance yelling. I turned around and saw no one. Did I hear someone? Once again, it was quiet. Then again, I was pretty sure I heard a voice far off in the distance, but still couldn't see from where it came. I directed my vision towards the back of the pond and noticed a chain link fence surrounding the property alongside the pond. The voices seemed to stop and it was quiet once again. I followed the fence with my eyes and took another swig of beer. I noticed a big metal sign posted against the fence. Something didn't look right, as I examined the fence and the sign one more time. Hhmmm. Why couldn't I read the sign? There was something unusual about that sign, and I began to feel a little queasy. Hoping to calm my nerves, I gulped down my beer and gasped for air. I felt the hair rise on the back of my neck and my veins turned cold with fear as I approached the sign. I realized in horror that the sign was not meant to be read from the side of the fence where I stood. I was supposed to be reading the sign from the other side of the fence. We were on the wrong side of the fence, but what was so wrong about where we were? I remembered that I did not see any gates blocking our entrance when we came in. I had to muster the courage to walk close enough to read the other side of the sign. Even my fearful imagination didn't prepare me for the big red letters that were printed on the sign from where I looked over the opposite side of the fence: DANGER: TOXIC WASTE SITE: KEEP OUT! Suddenly, I was nauseous and faint. I struggled to keep my balance and wobbled over to yet another sign which read, SEWAGE TREATMENT FACILITY: KEEP OUT. I gathered my wits, and drifted over to the Hummer to inform David of the bad news. I no longer felt fear, but incredible disgust, shame and embarrassment as I also remembered the voices I had heard earlier. Now, I felt like I was being watched and probably laughed at from a distance. As I got near the Hummer, David was comfortably sitting on the floorboard of the hummer, wearing his big, straw fisherman's hat, and cheerfully strumming his acoustic guitar. His fishing pole was at his side and his line was out in the sewage-toxic-waste water. He looked up at me and spit out a few sunflower seed shells. I thought about where his hands had been before he placed those seeds in his mouth. He looked at least 10 years younger than his 50 years of age, and quite honestly, if it weren't for the Belgium Brew, I might have believed I was watching a Coors beer commercial. How do you tell your most cheerful, optimistic friend on his 50th birthday that he's fishing in a sewer full of Toxic Waste? David looked up at me and said, What's up, bud!' I calmly said, "David, I just read the front of the sign over there, and it says we're fishing in a toxic sewer." David looked back up at me, laughed, and started reeling in his line. He says, "Well damn. That explains why we're not catching anything" I should have known him better. This is the guy that lives for fun. The reaction was nothing like my own, as his care-free reflection seemed to gleam off of the glassy, sewage water and smile back at me. We got back up in the front seat of his Hummer and David drove the dirt road over to the entrance, which I now realized was a fully open gate with big signs on each side facing inward that read, "SEWER: KEEP OUT". I would have vomited if I could. We muttered a few obscenities to each other about the !$&*ing so and so, who opened the #$&ing gates in such a #$&!ing way that we could not read them before we entered the $$&ing sewage facility. We took the highway back towards town. As we neared our Hotel, David, seemingly unaffected by it all, says to me, "I don't know about you bud, but I'm not gonna get skunked on my birthday! Wanna go find fishing river down the road?"
"Just drop me off at the hotel, David. I really want to take a shower", was my immediate answer. I must have been in the shower a full 30 minutes making sure that I had all of the sewage cleaned off of me. I kept trying to reassure myself; the water was just strong chemicals like bleach or ammonia; okay, maybe some raw sewage, but probably not anything too bad, could it be? Or, maybe it was radio active? Cancer. That's pretty serious. How long before I developed a malignant tumor? After my shower, I poured myself a big glass of scotch, and imagined how I would explain this to my wife when she got back to the Hotel. I was sure that her reaction would be horror and disgust. I was wrong. She laughed. And when I told her I had to know what's in that pond, she suggested I go ask the hotel manager. When I said I was too embarrassed to even bring it up, she laughed again. I had to know what was in that pond. Finally, she told me she would go ask someone, herself. As she left the room, I heard more laughter in the hallway as the kids approached her. They whispered to each other for a moment. There was more laughter. Moments later my wife returned with the information I anxiously awaited. The Hotel Manager said that we were not supposed to be in there.

"No $h*!", I said aloud. "Was he the clown that left the gate open with the signs facing the opposite way?" The good news is that he also said the water wouldn't hurt us it was just a holding pond. I took a big breath of relief and swigged down the rest of my scotch. I still wasn't feeling the effects, nor did I quite believe the Hotel manager, though I desperately wanted to. I wondered, "should I go ask him again myself, just to be sure? "

Later, we all gathered in one of our rooms for pizza and wine. David was back; once again unsuccessful in his attempt to locate fish. He was un-showered, un-phased, yet looking tan, and as fresh as a daisy. He did not appear concerned at all about the incident today. His reaction, more than the Hotel Manager's own answer about the pond, reassured me I was okay. I had a good time that night.

The next morning, I awoke with a dull headache and wondered what I would do about my contaminated fishing pole and line. I wondered how many times I would have to explain this story to people and hoped that someday I could put it all down on paper. The final motivation to this story was inspired by some new information my daughter provided to me just a few weeks prior to writing this. As I was retelling the events to family members, she interrupted me to let me know that I wasn't exactly right about David's reaction. Just before the pizza party, she had overheard from the hallway, David, in his room, yelling and sounding a little bit upset. Actually, he sounded a LOT upset. According to my daughter, his words to his wife went something like this, "Damnit,! I just went fishing in a !#$*ing sewer on my birthday!" I never laughed harder then when I heard my daughter explain this to me. It brought back the entire day from five years ago, and added a fitting end to what I thought was the entire story. My admiration for David grew even stronger after hearing this little tidbit of news. I think it has something to do with the way we look up to leaders. They pick us up with their positive attitude when things seem to be at their very worst. They don't flinch in the face of humiliation. Yet, a leader cannot be a hero unless they are human, too. We both had our day in the sewer, but David pulled me out of the toxic waste simply by showing it didn't bother him. I am thankful to David for doing that, and I am thankful to God that we didn't catch anything in the pond that day.