The Modern Woman's Guide to Hunting Vol. 1 Rule 2

   Ah the wondrous hunting mecca that I wish to someday call my home, Bass Pro Fishing.  With its abundant cornucopia of all things outdoors, Bass Pro has keenly perfected the ways to make a hunter fall on his or her knees, open their wallets and spend until the said hunter is in desperate need of government bail-out because their credit card over-charged itself.  Bad credit card.

   I've witnessed cars parked outside Bass Pro, deer decals lovingly clung to the back windows as their owners stand open-mouthed at the monstrous entrance. The Bass Pro in North Carolina is a beautiful and extremely accurate representation of how I envision my future homestead when I become a kajillionaire.   Given my affinity for all things wood, (no innuendo intended) the store is heaven.  The entire premises from street entrance to the exit to the much inferior mall is set up like a log cabin.  A gigantic fireplace stands in the lobby while various mounted animals peer down at patrons in a mournful last gaze.  Deer heads hang from the hunting section with racks only seen in the distant pages of magazines.  A fish tank, with quite possibly the largest and most appalling looking catfish who has definitely ingested a human appendage or two, illustrates to children that their parents were lying when they said nothing in that dark, scary lake would ever eat a child.

  I've said it before and I'll say it again.  I love Bass Pro.  I'll go Bass Pro for anything.  I mean anything.  If there is a concert looming ahead, I'll run to Bass Pro for camo overalls.  (They have them.  We tailored them into shorts. Take that, Versace- I can do couture too!) DU and I ritualistically end up there after, before or even during date nights.  Obviously, I am the last person to whine.  However, I've noticed an interesting phenomena.  I've actually noticed girls complaining about being there.  Some seem completely out of place while others continually look to the exit in the hope that their significant other will take notice.  Best yet, I have been privy to fantastically amusing public fights that generally end in the man storming away with the outrageously expensive clad girlfriend sulks in his wake.

  This is very interesting to me, as whatever DU enjoys, I generally try to go along with.  (I've tried fatback , I deserve a medal.)  Therefore, we have tendency to re-create these fights in order to increase the awareness of how ridiculous people look when they argue in public.  It usually starts in the parking lot where I refuse to move my feet and DU is forced to push or carry me inside.  Once inside, the real magic starts.  I'll feign anger when DU wants to try out every duck call and compare the sizes of Goose decoys.  Usually, I'll start rolling my eyes and making comments such as, "Don't we have like 8,000 of these in the garage? Can you please stop that calling stuff? Its like annoying."  Infusing a lot of hyperbole and the word "like" lends itself to increased ridiculousness, hence giving the argument an absurdity boost.  In an amplified tone, DU will then tell me to wait in the car or go look at shoes.  The realistic nature of such tussles is enhanced in rare instances when I'm not sporting my signature camo.  By far and large, the best arguments occur at check-out when DU insists on leaving me there.  He attempts to persuade the cashier (Bass Pro has the best.  They remember names, are always happy and more than happy to oblige in our antics.) to employ me in a modern form of indentured servitude.  I then, again, roll my eyes and pay the bill.  DU sometimes decides to take the whole thing a step further and make some smart comment about the beauty of feminism.  We leave laughing, along with anyone who watched, took part in, or was slightly confused by our performance. 

  There is another way to make Bass Pro fun.  The awesome store has a great policy about dogs.  They love them and encourage well-behaved dogs to accompany their two legged owners.  Immediately after adopting Avery, we realized she was in desperate need of garb as per her namesake.  So, before ever setting foot inside her soon-to-be home, Avery was carried into Bass Pro.  At 14 weeks, the girl owned the place.  Michael Waddell could have walked in, giving away free ATVs and no one would have given him a second glance.  Yes, Avery was that good.  Gaggles of women stopped me and asked if they could pet her.  Camo clad men gave us a nod as waterfowl hunters were quick to ask where we got her, how she's retrieving and if she's gun shy.  Even now, a solid 30 pounds of growing puppy, Avery attracts a lot of attention. I noticed that Avery is the kryptonite that assists in entertaining bored, unhappy significant others at Bass Pro. 

  Yes, my friends, Bass Pro can be an adventure.  Some can't get enough but for others, the trip is a hardly bearable, I-have-to-do-it-because-my-man-likes-it chore .  For the latter group, there is hope.

The Modern Woman's Guide to Hunting Vol.1 Rule 2-

Bass Pro is awesome.  Make the trip fun even if you have to pretend to duke it out. 

If all else fails, find a puppy.