Just so we all know, I’m highly aware that in the mainstream world, I’m pretty much a redneck. I like beer from the can, I say y’all way too much, and I live a sheltered life. I get it. But nothing could prepare me for bait camp.
I headed out with my family to see a live band, at a bait camp, because B said it would be fun. But one night…at bait camp…I found out just how high class I am!
We pulled up in the middle of nowhere to this! I posted it on Facebook because I knew something was off about this sign and was backed up by my not so illiterate friends. Alligators can swim and they should not be told that they can’t. I did see an alligator or two floating on their backside so I was happy that they could read better than the locals and that they decided to play by their rules. But I’m still curious. Why is alligators in parenthesis?
And excuse me for being wrong here, it wasn’t a bait camp at all, it was a fishing camp. This place was a high class double wide displaying both the American and Texas flags hanging high. We had arrived!
One day at bait camp…I realized they might serve food here and I wanted no part of it!
And I was left wondering what sort of crabs gather here while the beer did my belly good.
I would have taken more photos inside at bait camp, but it was too smokey and I couldn’t breath let alone see. At bait camp, you can chain smoke inside. That’s not cool!
I did stay for a moment to watch the sound check. And by sound check I mean, one night at bait camp I watched a crane operator (a really good one according to B), fiddle with a bunch of buttons to make some guys sound absolutely horrible through those speakers. Seriously, this guy should NOT quit his day job. Note: They sounded great before the sound check!
And one night at bait camp, I sat outside and listened through a muffled door and window as some dudes played music that wouldn’t have been awful had it not been for the really craptastic sound system as the mosquitoes bit me and my babies.
And one night…at bait camp…I listened as people told the most outlandish tails of catching 97 catfish in less than an hour. Oh there are so many tales to tell but I don’t want to be hateful.
So my one night…at bait camp…will be my last. No alligators, horrible sound systems, really nice midgets, or smokey rooms for me. Nope, I just need to stay on my island and away from the bait camps.
One night…at bait camp…I had jokes for days but I decided I’d keep them to myself. Y’all don’t want to know. Just know that the conversation between B and I (and by conversation, I mean my monologue on the way home) was hysterical.
One night…at bait camp…I realized that I’m a high class redneck, swamp people exist, and alligators don’t swim as long as they can read better than the locals.