I was preparing to hunt at the Sacramento National Wildlife Refuge with Hank and our friend David and the guy in the truck parked next to my car started chatting with us. It started with the usual pre-hunt talk - what was your resi number (we had the No. 5 reservation), what blind did you take (Blind 11).
At some point he realized I was a chick (which is literally half the reason I've grown out my hair - so I can stop looking like a guy in dark parking lots at 5 a.m.), and he volunteered that his wife hunts too, and she's a good shot. "A really good shot," he added.
So far, so good, right?
Something went terribly wrong after that.
He said his wife works at UPS (fine), and that she's one of the few non-lesbian female drivers there (OK, whatever).
Apparently one hot lesbian there is nicknamed "Bucky," "which," he says knowingly to Hank and David, "should be the first clue that she's a lesbian."
Uh ... I'm gonna be the first to admit that I have no idea why "Bucky" is a lesbian nickname. I know that Bucky Badger is the mascot at the University of Wisconsin. And I know that "bucky balls" are a form of molecule. But bucky lesbians? Hmmm. Maybe there's a hot lesbian porn star my students haven't told me about yet? (Oh yes, they're well-versed in porn these days.)
This is where the conversation gets truly awesome, because this guy starts going on and on and on about how he and his wife get all kinds of invitations for threesomes as a result of her working in this lesbian-rich environment, and how perilous it is for a guy to get into that kind of situation because it's so hard to compete with another chick and ...
Well, thank God he and his hunting party were in a hurry to get to their blind, averting what could've been an awkward conversation that went on until dawn.
After the guy and his pals had walked a decent distance away, I turned to Hank and David and said, "What. The. F**K?"
They just shook their heads.
The last time I was on the receiving end of such inappropriate verbal diarrhea was at the end of a Ronnie Montrose show when I was waiting for a friend who was on the road crew. The guy sitting next to me spent literally 30 minutes telling me how all he wanted for his 46th birthday was a blowjob from his wife, and she wouldn't give it to him, even though he'd gotten her a really nice surround sound system for her birthday that year.
That was at a BAR, where you can pretty much count on hearing more than you want to know about other people's sex lives. Not a dark parking lot at a national wildlife refuge.
The good news is that this guy told us it was the first time in three years that he'd hunted a refuge. With any luck he'll go back to his little private club and never talk to me again.
Word.
© Holly A. Heyser 2012
25 comments:
Come on now...........it was a full moon!!!!!!!!
I remember when I couldn't eat deviled eggs for 3 years after a bout of the flu.
OK, full moon - good call. Wind was blowing hard too, which always does strange things to people.
And I know what you mean. The last thing I ate before getting stomach flu a few days before Christmas was some Asian-style pork jerky from Costco. Tossed the remainder of it in the trash - can't bear to think about it.
Sounds like a crock of crap to me deeply rooted in his active imagination...like the guy writing letters to Penthouse. Maybe that was his letter to Penthouse and he was wanting it checked for error...Lol.
Yes, TMI. You're making me glad I live in a relatively small bubble...
GMB, one of my friends on Facebook said the same thing. Ew.
I have heard many things from male duck hunters, most often, "Do you have a sister," because they'd love a girlfriend or wife who didn't hate how they spend their spare time. That's fine.
But this? Not really a conversation you have with someone you met two seconds ago in a parking lot.
Hodgeman: Yep, you nailed it. "Dear Editor: You won't believe what happened to me last weekend..."
But don't be too sure you're not surrounded by similarly icky people in Alaska...
I wonder if UPS is hiring. lol!
Wow! You guys had to have some funny discussions in the blind afterwards. OK, so how was the hunting?
I've learned so much in this post! LOL!!
My husband has one of those faces that must say to people, "Please, spill your guts to me." When he supervised 5 people (all women) he would come home and tell me the oddest stories. He would shake his head and say, "Why do people have to tell me this stuff?" Its bizarre. So perhaps, even in the dark, you also have one of those faces!
Matt: Good thinking!
Softshell: Yeah, we yucked it up over that for quite a while.
Michelle: Now that you mention it, I'm one of those people too - people spill their guts to me. It's one of my two superpowers, and it came in really handy when I was a reporter.
My other superpower is getting to restaurants just before huge throngs of people show up. It works every place but In-N-Out Burger, which always has huge throngs of people there.
Could have been worse; it could have been someone that you or your party knew...
Some mornings I swear the air gets depleted of oxygen.
Even though I'm still stuck on the guy and the BJ, I love those conversation where you in turn respond with something clever and make them look like the ass they are.
Burntloafer: I suspect he grew up chewing on lead paint chips.
Hunter's Wife: Yeah that one was pretty spectacular, though I have to admit I probably encouraged him by laughing hysterically throughout the entire 30 minutes. He was actually a pretty good story teller.
What I loved most about that was the quid pro quo in that tale: surround sound in trade for a BJ. Seriously? You know he bought that stereo system for himself...
So, now I understand why you and Hank never invite us to your parties anymore...
Yeah, you and Venus hit on us WAAAAAAY too much.
Besides all the stories about you know what, how did you do hunting?
Terrible! I'm not very good at shooting in high wind, which is what we had that day. Got one gadwall and one snow goose, but the goose dropped into a deep canal (stone dead) and blew to the other side. In the closed zone. I would've paid a huge fine if I'd been caught trying to retrieve him. Totally sucked. :-(
Well, it seems I have been following the wrong blog (Hank's) all this time.
Surround sound for a BJ I'm sure she was impressed as my ex-wife was i bought my wife a new skillet for her Birthday...
Well guess I'm going to have to watch what stories I tell you from now on don't want them to end up in your Blog. Having been a sailor for 23 years i could really tell you a few to. (yes I know you wouldn't)
I agree that it was total made up crap, but disagree on the "inappropriateness." Sounds like free speech on public property to me, unless you told him to keep it to himself.
A lot of us have worked hard to get rid of the cultural idea that "women don't belong in the duck blind because of this type of talk." And I REFUSE to believe that "the duck blind is no place for this kind of talk." To me there is no difference
Therefore, what we're left is "this is what people talk about - sometimes - when duck hunting." At least, up until the point where you mention that you don't want to hear any more from him.
Granted this is weird (creepy) talk from a stranger in the parking lot and not in the duck blind, but I've heard far, far worse stories from women hunters in the duck blind. Stories that made me blush!
Oops "no difference between what gender of people you are afield with"
My offense wasn't that he said that to me, a female, but rather that he started talking about that within 30 seconds of saying "hi" for the first time ever.
One of my colleagues once confessed to me that he and his wife enjoyed some good group sex now and then, but that was after we'd known each other for two years.
But after 30 seconds? That's about the same as telling the stranger in line behind you at the supermarket that your wife works with lots of lesbians and you get lots of invites to threesomes. Seriously: Who does that? People who lack filters, that's who.
And Peebs, you've known me for two years. You know you can tell me just about anything without me batting an eye.
And besides, if I were going to spill any beans about you in the blog, it would've been about that awesome ... well, nah, I'll reserve that for blind talk.
Well, I can’t say that your conversation surprises me. I have had many early morning check-in station conversations that I kept saying to myself, “Is this really happening?” I’m hoping someday I might actually find a duck hunter that has something good to say. I hunt with a partner that brings his very obviously young son who often asks the question, “What does that mean?” Maybe someday, guess not that day.
Really? Most of my conversations have been just typical hunt stuff: How'd you do last weekend, boy doesn't this weather suck, etc.
I'd be tempted to chalk it up to guys holding back around me because I'm a chick, except that Hank and David were pretty dumbfounded by what this guy was saying as well.
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