It began like a lot of half baked schemes do, amongst the company of carnies. I bump into a friend who I hadn’t seen since last winter at the town carnival and we get to catching up as our kids spin around on the amusements that all look a cotter pin short of safety certification. Our conversation drifts to fishing and the fateful words are issued, “I’m hitting the Pan tomorrow if you want to come.” And with that proposition, the ball is set in motion – the last minute spousal negotiations to get a Saturday pass begin. But there’s a catch, always a catch…
