Oh, how I’ve missed you! You, my virtually real friends, were temporarily replaced by real-life people of all shapes, color, sizes, and gender strolling past my “booth” into the abyss of dead animal heads and dead fish adorning the walls and other walls and racks loaded with equipment to shoot those animals and to catch those fish and tables and racks bulging with special clothes to wear while doing so. called Cabela’s. (NOTE TO EDITORS AND GRAMMAR GEEKS: Please do not touch that sentence. I like it just the way it is!)
Did I take photos? No, because I got so focused on what I was doing, I really do got tunnel vision and couldn’t see the bigger picture. Why can’t I be as good as those famous bloggers and take photos and think about a good blog post while I’m sitting at my table talking to the scads of people that stop to chat? I’m just too single-minded when it comes to doing something I’ve never done before.
Oh, don’t get me wrong. The idea did flit through my mind a time or two, but I could not leave my fan base to go out to my vehicle and get my camera. (that’s a joke) My other reason for blowing off the photo idea was that I was afraid someone would steel my camera. Honestly. It could happen. (this is not a joke)
My booth was not a booth at all. It was a table with a black floor length table cloth provided by the store. I really appreciated that little table and cloth, on which I sat a laptop with a rotating slide show of fishing photos from the past few years. Folks seemed to enjoy the photos. But the one thing that caused fear in some, disappointment in others, excitement in middle-aged women, and a sneer from middle-aged men was the contest box sitting on my table . . .
To be continued . . .