Alright, alright.  I admit it.  I was excited to go.

As part of my job, I was invited to attend the annual banquet for the local chapter of Trout Unlimited.  Since I was the resident expert on fly fishing and tying, I got to tag along- customer relations, show our support, and all that.  My boss was being forced to go, and being a tournament bass angler… he was not excited. 

“Let’s get this over with,” he said, and we headed for the banquet.  The store was covering the cost for us to attend, a cool 80 bucks, plus gave us a little extra for the raffle announced in the bulletin for the event.  Said bulletin also announced appetizers, followed by a fine dinner (the coordinator promised duck or salmon), so I tried to appease my companion for the evening that at least he’d get a nice, fine meal.  He was pleased at this, being a man of large appetite, and off we went.

I love my job, but sometimes it’s nice to get out, especially if you’re being paid for it (you know how it is).  So I was in a good mood.  Plus, I knew a lot of the guys from when they’d come into the store for fly fishing gear or had questions about fly tying, and I figured it’d be cool to hang out and talk to them… establish good customer relations for future business and all that retail mumbo jumbo.

Aside from that, I was curious about how this local TU chapter was doing.  I anticipated a summary of the past year’s outings and what they had planned for the coming year to help the area’s trout.  ‘Cause I really like trout, and I’ve seen much that could be improved upon, and I’d like to help.

Years ago I heard that if you went into a nearby National Park with a TU sticker on your vehicle, you were really taking a chance.  You’d get your tires slashed, or your window broken, or sugar in your gas tank.  The area TU got the state to designate the stocked waters there as closed for a spell (basically winter).  The locals were outraged, being born-and-raised catch-em-n-eat-em folks, the ones who follow the stocking trucks and clean out the place in a day or two, keeping dozens each and using whatever method to harvest. (My thought on this… Kroger?  Wal-Mart? how bout the Piggly Wiggly?  They even have them pre-cleaned).  So anyway, they were miffed, and let it be known.

When I first moved here, I was a TU member by monetary means only.  I wanted to change that and really help out, so when I got a newsletter stating that the chapter would clean trash up and down a local creek (one of my all-time favorites), I decided I would go and help, meet the fellas, find out what else I could do.

I was the only TU member that showed up.  Just me.  And there was plenty of trash from the afore-mentioned locals.  Well, I bumped into a group of Cub Scouts who were there for the same thing, and I tagged along with them to help pick up the garbage.  It may be needless to say I was not impressed with the local TU chapter, and after hearing that their “meetings” amounted to dining out and getting sloshed, I let my membership run out and washed my hands of the whole affair.

I wanted to see what they’d done recently.  People change, good things happen.  I was ready to jump on board with the new administration and do some good for the local trout fishery.  Here was my chance to see that those yahoos had become a dignified, diligent, hard-working, and caring organization that made a difference.  I wanted that…

We got there early and were promptly ignored, with the exception of the president who encouraged us to join.  We checked out what was up for raffle, and wondered where the items our store donated for the event went to (never found them).  People drifted in, chatted among themselves, promptly ignored us.

My boss looked like he was in line for the firing squad (the bad line).  I saw a couple guys I recognized from the store and went to make small talk, hoping to get us into the “in-crowd.”  A few brief words, and we were dropped like old milk.  Well, I tried.

There was a handy list of available beverages for our convenience.  Soda: $1.50; Coffee $1.50; the rest of the page was filled with wines, imported brews, and other strong drinks at considerably higher prices.  “Well, thanks for letting us look at the list… where’s the water fountain here?”

An hour into the event and the banquet hall smelled like an old locker room where a frat party had just taken place (or so I imagined it might, ahem), so we went outside for some fresh spring air.  My boss was clearly agitated and uncomfortable, and after a while I checked the time and said “They should be serving appetizers by now.”  So we sauntered back in, my enthusiasm waning considerably at this point, but hey, free food (okay, well, free for us… the store was paying).

A slide show projected on dual movie screens was rolling on loop, dozens of nifty photos of members on vacation, members fishing or attempting to fish, members hammered, members cajoling, and two… count them: 2… photos of several members in hard hats moving logs (no descriptive caption).  Captivating, to say the most.

We elbowed our way though the wine-sloshers and could smell “something” cooked.  Okay, there’s food and hope yet.

I spied a young couple standing off on their own, being shunned in a manner not unlike us.  I recognized the guy from the store and went over to say hello.  Turns out he was the river guide I talked to a week or so ago, good fella.  He said they weren’t members (explains why they were standing off on their own).  So I chatted a bit with him, and we made for the appetizers. 

High dollar stuff.  I made a brief mental note: if you can’t tell what it is, it probably cost a lot.  Oh, wait!  Rolls!  It’s not stuffed with something weird, is it?  Okay, good.  One of those, and, uh, a 3×5 piece of roast beef, and, uh, ooo- shrimp!  I recognize that!  Six of those… cold?.. no cocktail sauce?.. hm.

My boss chose a seat at the back… waaaaay back.  I made fun of his anti-social choice of arrangement and we sat down to munch our appetizers, some known, some mystery (all of which produced some extravagant expressions, to say the least).  I looked up to see the young couple working their way toward us. 

His wife was exquisite.  “You’re the only ones who’ll talk to us and you guys seem down to earth, so we’re sitting with you.”  I took that as a grand compliment from a fine young woman… I like that.

Appetizers gone (those that were palatable= few), and some good discussion about the local trout waters… us “non-members.”  My boss was getting edgy again.  “Where’s the dinner?”  I checked the time and told him it should be coming soon.  He stopped a server and asked what was for dinner- the server didn’t know.

The TU bulletin and program schedule had a set time of events: social hour, appetizers, dinner, raffle, silent auction, etc.  It was almost time for dinner.

Time came, went.  We sat.  Talked more with our friends.  Sat.  Check the time: past dinner.  My boss: bouncing his knee.  “I’m gonna do some recon about dinner,” I said.  If you’ve not noticed by, now, I’m a bit of an optimist, and I always try to find the good, or the “lesson” in everything.  Funny little character trait, that.  But at least I can sleep at night.

I found the coordinator and discovered we’d already been eating “dinner.”  Upon relaying the gathered info, we determined we would all get our money’s worth of the “usual light appetizers for this sort of event” as the convention center manager put it.

Rolls grew stale.  Roast beef?  More may be on the way… we waited, plates outstretched hopefully.  Nope, all gone.  Anything else?  Nothing you want to ingest.  Here, I had to laugh, and my boss just looked at me.  This was funny.  We paid big bucks for, uh, light appetizers, extra proceeds going to, uh, sloshers, and our donations go to what exactly?.. ain’t life grand? 

Oh, shrimp!  They still have shrimp!  My cholesterol is, perhaps, not so hot now, ’cause I had at least a pound and a half of chilled shrimp, minus the cocktail sauce. 

Maybe that’s not so bad, kinda like a Double Quarter Pounder, large fries, and DIET Coke, the diet part negating all else apparently- c’mon, you’ve seen ‘em, the ones that scout out the booth seats first, but hey, they got diet, so they’re trying, right?.  I woulda killed for a Quarter Pounder at that point!  But I digress… 

We left soon after, opting not to stay for the fun-filled silent auction and raffle.  I learned later that our friends left soon afterward (why, on Earth, would they do that?).  The funds we invested in raffle tickets yielded nothing, big surprise.

I did not sign up for Trout Unlimited again.  ‘Magine that.

Here comes the optimist!  Now don’t get me wrong… Trout Unlimited is a great organization that has had a tremendous impact on salmonid fisheries in the United States.  Support it as you can, I say.  They do some great work, and many well-known folks have lifted them with help and contributions.

Okay, here’s my thought.  If it’s a tax-free non-profit out for good, using funds to bettter the habitat of salmonids, why all the fancy hullabuloo for a banquet?  Rent the local hall or get it free, have a potluck, or serve chicken and potatoes, let us know what you did, what you’re going to do, inspire people to benefit their environment.  I’m not giving a dime to a group that struts like roosters, scratching in the poop, and saying, “Oh, look what we did!  Ain’t that nice?  Give us money.”

‘Round here, it’s the local PU chapter.  I told my wife maybe I should start my own chapter so something could get done.  We’ll see.