"You Can't Outsmart the Fox"

My Mother’s Day was celebrated with a family cookout and fishing along the creek. As Mom and I stood casting for trout she cheekily reminded me of an embarrassing situation that occurred when I was 16 years old. “Tell me again about the time you were arrested at Pinchot. That story amuses me.” My brother immediately interjected in his all-too-familiar mocking tone, “Ha ha. I remember that. Didn’t that warden want to send you to jail? I would have sent you to jail. PA’s lakes and rivers are no joking matter!” To which I annoyingly replied, “No, I did not go to jail… nor was I arrested…but I did have to pay a fine… and worst of all our High Life was confiscated.” Of all the stupid illegal things I did as a teenager, my friends and family will always remember me as the kid who got busted for fishing without a license.

This is how my crime went down: Every year, a group of kids from my high school rent cabins at the local state park. It is one of those quintessential high school weekends with copious amounts of alcohol, drugs and stupidity. A few of us arrived early Friday to claim our positions in the cabin. We still had plenty of sunlight so decided to head to the lake for some fishing. Ali, Mike and I were of the age requiring a fishing license. Mike had a legitimate license and three poles. Ali had never been fishing and was eager to learn so Mike grabbed the rods and I snatched up the tackle box and we all raced for the shoreline. Kendra fetched the stereo, dope and a beer and sauntered behind. She was more interested in dancing to David Bowie than in capturing innocent fish.

Ali took to the casting like monkeys take to trees and within five minutes she had actually caught herself a nice 10-inch sunfish. To many that would be grounds for laughing, but what was most impressive was how she caught it. There was no lure on that line, only an empty hook. Unfortunately, Ali ‘Who needs bait?’ K.’s celebration was short-lived due to the arrival of a dwarf-sized, overweight and bald PA Fish and Game warden. Boss Hogg accusingly interrogated us, “Just what do you kids think you’re doing?” Mike insolently replied, “Well, I think it’s pretty obvious. We’re fishing and she’s dancing,” pointing towards Kendra. She gave a sarcastic wave and belted out the chorus to China Girl, throwing in a few pirouettes for effect.

The game warden demanded to know our ages. Mike curtly told him 16. In unison, Ali and I coyly answered 15 while batting our eyelashes (knowing full well we were at risk of being fined). He then asked to see Mike’s fishing license. “Jesus didn’t need a fishing license!” he shouted in his best Mr. T. voice, before cooperating. The fish police saw Ali’s car and inquired as to who owned it. Mike claimed the vehicle. He ordered us to stay put and returned to his truck. A few minutes later a state trooper with flashing lights arrived on the scene. “Oh my god. Did this guy really just call for backup?” Ali laughed. The warden waved in the car and turned to face us. In the most menacing voice a short fat man can conjure, he growled,“You little weasels better not lie to me because I’m the fox. And guess what? You can’t outsmart the fox!” He then demanded that Mike follow him towards a tree 20 yards away, thus preventing any collaboration of stories between the culprits.

This entire time I am thinking why is Boss being such a royal dick and I wish I was high because this scenario would be even more hilarious! I mean this guy called for backup on three fishing teenagers. The other trooper informed us he called in the plate numbers and discovered the vehicle belonged to Ali. She was told to identify herself. By this time, Kendra’s DB dance party had rudely been interrupted and she grudgingly joined the rest of the girls for the investigation. This scene of demanding honesty, respect and IDs continued for another few minutes until the officer spotted our visible case of Miller in the vehicle. Damn! I knew we shouldn’t have driven the hatchback.

Meanwhile, a quick thunderstorm passed thru and Mike was left to endure it under a tree with the fox. The poor guy was soaked…and totally innocent. In the end, our beer was seized, our car searched for marijuana and Ali and I each were slapped with a $50 fine for fishing without a license. I tried to convince the trooper that I thought it was a Fish for Free Day but since it wasn’t, he didn’t bite. The fox kept reminding us that we were getting off easy since he could have fined us more for lying to an officer.

In retrospect (and by that, I mean a half-hour later) we knew we were stupid. Of all the places to fish without a license, we chose a highly patrolled state park. It was also foolish not to hide our beer. Although, we were lucky the corrupt trooper was thirsty because he just took the alcohol and gave us the obligatory “you shouldn’t drink underage” lecture. That day I did learn a valuable lesson. When it comes to fishing and having blatantly visible alcohol in your car, “you can’t outsmart the fox.” But when it comes to illegal drugs, the weasel wins (our dope was hardly hidden, resting in the middle of the car consul with only a Johnny Cash cd covering it).

After recapping the story to my mother, she simply sighed and smirked. “Oh the joys of adolescence.” Indeed Mom, indeed.