T-Minus 2 Days
So I was actually at a bachelor party in Boston this weekend; the irony of it was not lost on me. While the bachelor was celebrating his final days as a single man, I was celebrating my final days able to eat whatever I wanted. I pretty much continued my recent policy of eating everything not nailed down, scarfing onion rings, nachos, beer, pizza, chicken tenders, egg sandwiches and meatball. Only the very finest cuisine.
My friends recommended that my strategy is the wrong one, that I should actually be working to shrink my stomach to make the ordeal a bit easier on myself. They likely are right, its something I’ve thought of myself, but while I agreed with them in spirit, the fifth slice of pizza told a different story.
I’ll admit I’m starting to get a bit nervous about this whole thing. Many seem to think that the rules are being quite easy on me. Anyone who knows me however, or looks closely at the terms, will see that there is nothing easy about this. I can’t borrow or beg from people or their leftovers. Any transportation is via a bike, tough to carry a load of equipment (or a fresh catch) on your back when pedaling away.
Even the time of year works against me combining hot weather always with a chance of rain, with freezing cold water. On top of all that, having only basic equipment (fishing pole with no sinkers, lures, floaters, just a hook) I have to catch seafood at the worst time of year. Crabs, and clams are not in season yet (August-September), and they tend the only things I can catch at all. Early reports from where I’ll be (a slightly isolated location) are already saying things are not in my favor.
I saw a dead raccoon on my way home today. I was a little disturbed when my first thought was “food.” Roadkill for dinner might be the best meal I get in the next week, but my girlfriend might never kill me again. Talk about a catch-22.