And the whole process of fishing can be an absolute pain: getting the proper equipment, getting a fishing license, waiting in the middle of a lake full of mosquitoes, etc. As for me, it was an educational experience when I look back on it now, one I don't plan to share with any of my future offspring. Of course, he was an exception to the rule and would swear worse than sailor when he broke his line, caught a bad fish, or let a particularly juicy fish getting away.
Not that we really bonded since he told me to shut up so I wouldn't disturb the fish. But in between those two activities, I would get dragged by my uncle for the oldest type of male bonding ritual - fishing.
The summers of my youth mainly consisted of romps at my local 7-11 to assert my Street Fighter II neighborhood dominance or painful hours spent at my piano teacher's dungeon.
