Stuck in Alabama

As I suffered through the recent cold, I was reminded that ten years ago this week I was on a media junket in Lower Alabama organized by my friend John Mazurkiewicz. It was the first time I met industry stalwarts like Tim Carini, Jordan Lee, Cody Meyer, and David Brinkerhoff. We spent more time together than expected because an unprecedented ice storm hit the region. Those of us who’d flown in saw our flights delayed. Even if they weren’t, the highways between our staging point and the airport were jammed with broken heroes, waylaid by the slippery stuff. Carini wanted to drive home to Atlanta, a city with just one snowplow for about 8 billion residents, and ended up staying instead.

Fortunately, we were staying in a private residence at a really nice country club. Also fortunately, we had a private chef, who as I recall could not safely get home – and instead elected to stay where it was warm and continued to cook.

The ironic punishment was that right outside our door was a several hundred-acre lake stocked with Florida strains. Our group caught several tens and numerous over 7 that week. We’d fish for as long as we could in the sub-freezing temps, using electric-only jon boats to maneuver. Then we’d go inside, warm up, drink a beer or three, and head back out. Luckily none of us fell into the drink.

Meanwhile, Hanna was at home getting ready to pick up our 8-week-old hellion of a puppy. When she picked me up at the airport late Friday night, three days later than expected, he was in the back of the Suburban, getting his first taste of the fishing lifestyle – expect the unexpected and control only those factors that you can control.

What do you say, boys? How about a 10-year reunion? Maybe when the fish there are on the beds.