More than you ever wanted to know about fishing and beyond..

I had been curious about the Bass Pro Shop since my body pump instructor said, “Hey dude, you gotta go see this place I went to this weekend.” It was an unlikely recommendation with no detail, but the next sentence was, “You might want to take off a little weight for this one.” Not having listened to that bit of good advice to my determent the next day, I thought maybe he might be right about his other suggestion.

A cold drizzling rain was falling when we arrived at the overflowing parking lot. A smiling barker stood by the turnstile at the entrance and encouraged us to “use both sides”.  Immediately after I pushed my hip against the medal rod a woman who seemed to be auditioning to be my personal hostess, intoned an enthusiastic, “Thank you for coming!” She would have shook my hand, but nodding slightly, I marched past her like I knew exactly where I was headed. My husband followed because after long years of living with me, he has found that he may need to keep me from walking straight forward off the edge of a cliff while trying to look in control. 

It took all of my inner cool not to stop and gawk like the swarming throngs around us. Tall trees appear to support the soaring structure, their leaves lost in the dark places high above. Vignettes of  glassy eyed taxidermic wildlife peer vacantly from every pseudo rock and tree.  A waterfall cascades into a deep pool conveniently equipped with one glass side so visitors can see the stock of large game fish doomed to swim forever in circles. A mannequin with an enormous butt stands frozen beside a salmon stream forever looking for a likely place to cast. Real salmon sit at the other end of the pool and snicker at her pants.

We climb the steps that lead behind the waterfall and discover a stuffed grizzly bear so surprising and life like two children had to be carried screaming out of the narrow stairwell. Upstairs and down there are shooting galleries for adults and children. The camping store is complete with an entire row of deep fat turkey friers. Downstairs, right behind the display of enormous fishing boats, sporty Santa sits tirelessly in his rustic chair picking up little children that just finished making glitter pine cones at the elves table. I wonder how many beards he goes through in an average week. 

I've seen all I care to see when my husband asks if I want to go look at the fishing lures with him. I give him my standard “were you talking to me” look and tell him I just might check out the menu at the restaurant. I stroll down past the fudge shop and looking through the door I spot the 12,000 gallon salt water fish tank reaching to the ceiling.  It comes to me that I may have found a way to salvage this day. My husband found me an hour later sitting at the bar eating lightly seared sesame tuna with wasabi and drinking Yuengling. He laughed as he sat down beside me,“Some sporting goods store, huh?” 

"Yup, it's like a theme park with guns and booze." I order him a beer and do not complain when he tells me all the names of all the fish as they swim past.