One of my most memorable experiences was a five day hunting trip in Star County, TX. There was seven fired up guys going to a ranch that as far as anyone knew, had never been hunted. All of us were single and in our low twenties. The ranch was 27,000 acres and had no place for us to sleep. The only improvements on the ranch was a single room bunkhouse with a separate cookhouse for the non English speaking ranch hands.
We knew all this ahead of time so we rented a Winnabaggo which contained the map and directions to the ranch which none of us had ever set foot on. The rolling motel was followed by 3 pickups of which two were pulling utility trailers full of corn and coolers. Drinking and driving was common place at that time. After hours of loading up food, beer, ice, and whiskey, we were off to kill the trophy of a lifetime.
Since we had a 5 hour drive, we all agreed to go nonstop and refuel in Rio Grande City. In those days, we all packed a one gallon piss jug. You'd just sit back high in the seat and unload in your jug. Normally we didn't travel that far, and the jugs were all full about half way to Rio Grande City. I was in a pickup with another guy. We had killed a couple of six packs and were working on our first bottle of scotch when we realized both or our gallon piss jugs were full. The only choice we had was to use the empty beer cans.
Have you ever tried peeing in that little hole while driving in the dark? I forgot to add that we had HUGE bladders at that time of our lives. One can was not enough. Asking a friend to hold onto your freshly warmed urine beer can while you scramble for another empty can cause spillage or total loss in the truck. By the time we hit Rio Grande City to refuel the truck was a liquid mess. When I opened my door, a river of once filtered beer and scotch flowed onto the concrete. It turned out the other two pickups had the same or worse problems.
I knew something was wrong when I saw one guys standing there wearing no shirt. He had tossed his cookies on the dash which stopped up the defogger vents. Apparently while looking for a napkin he chucked out another load hitting a bullseye inside the glove compartment. He used his shirt to try and clean up the mess. The whole inside windshield of the passenger side was smeared puke.
The group decided to make a quick stop in Mexico before finding the ranch. Big mistake. The only port of entry we could find had a little barge which you pulled yourself across the border with a rope and pulley system. It could only hold a small car so we just pulled ourselves across with a few bottles of whiskey and a cooler of ice. It was deadsville. A little hole in wall town with nothing open. We were starving to death and needed some food real bad. There a ton of chickens running around so caught a few for a quick meal. We quickly learned that starting a fire in the middle of town in a foreign country and eating someone else's chickens tends to piss the locals off. We fled back to the barge and got to the US side and decided to run down towards McAllen to cross the border.
Somewhere before we hit McAllen, we found another port of entry. For the love of me I can't remember the name. We had all taken bad drunk and our bodies were screaming for food. The only place open was this little off the street Cantina that only served one thing. Avocado with chicken beaks. That's right. Chicken Beaks. That little pink piece of meat that is inside the chickens beak. He had a huge three gallon glass container full of these chicken beaks sitting on the bar. He mixed them up with avocados and fresh lime juice. We ate every beak in the joint and headed off to seek some female companionship.
Remember now that most of us smelled real bad because of urine spillage. The ladies were happy to see us until they sat in our laps. Women don't like guys that spill pee on themselves. That's a fact. The entertainment was costly because of it. Everybody had been entertained and the sun was rising so we hit a little joint to eat some breakfast before crossing the border. This place had a limited menu. Smoked marlin tacos or oyster tacos. That was better than nothing so we pigged out and wobbled back to the US.
The story gets better, but it's almost 7PM and I'm still at work. Better get home. I might continue it another time.
We knew all this ahead of time so we rented a Winnabaggo which contained the map and directions to the ranch which none of us had ever set foot on. The rolling motel was followed by 3 pickups of which two were pulling utility trailers full of corn and coolers. Drinking and driving was common place at that time. After hours of loading up food, beer, ice, and whiskey, we were off to kill the trophy of a lifetime.
Since we had a 5 hour drive, we all agreed to go nonstop and refuel in Rio Grande City. In those days, we all packed a one gallon piss jug. You'd just sit back high in the seat and unload in your jug. Normally we didn't travel that far, and the jugs were all full about half way to Rio Grande City. I was in a pickup with another guy. We had killed a couple of six packs and were working on our first bottle of scotch when we realized both or our gallon piss jugs were full. The only choice we had was to use the empty beer cans.
Have you ever tried peeing in that little hole while driving in the dark? I forgot to add that we had HUGE bladders at that time of our lives. One can was not enough. Asking a friend to hold onto your freshly warmed urine beer can while you scramble for another empty can cause spillage or total loss in the truck. By the time we hit Rio Grande City to refuel the truck was a liquid mess. When I opened my door, a river of once filtered beer and scotch flowed onto the concrete. It turned out the other two pickups had the same or worse problems.
I knew something was wrong when I saw one guys standing there wearing no shirt. He had tossed his cookies on the dash which stopped up the defogger vents. Apparently while looking for a napkin he chucked out another load hitting a bullseye inside the glove compartment. He used his shirt to try and clean up the mess. The whole inside windshield of the passenger side was smeared puke.
The group decided to make a quick stop in Mexico before finding the ranch. Big mistake. The only port of entry we could find had a little barge which you pulled yourself across the border with a rope and pulley system. It could only hold a small car so we just pulled ourselves across with a few bottles of whiskey and a cooler of ice. It was deadsville. A little hole in wall town with nothing open. We were starving to death and needed some food real bad. There a ton of chickens running around so caught a few for a quick meal. We quickly learned that starting a fire in the middle of town in a foreign country and eating someone else's chickens tends to piss the locals off. We fled back to the barge and got to the US side and decided to run down towards McAllen to cross the border.
Somewhere before we hit McAllen, we found another port of entry. For the love of me I can't remember the name. We had all taken bad drunk and our bodies were screaming for food. The only place open was this little off the street Cantina that only served one thing. Avocado with chicken beaks. That's right. Chicken Beaks. That little pink piece of meat that is inside the chickens beak. He had a huge three gallon glass container full of these chicken beaks sitting on the bar. He mixed them up with avocados and fresh lime juice. We ate every beak in the joint and headed off to seek some female companionship.
Remember now that most of us smelled real bad because of urine spillage. The ladies were happy to see us until they sat in our laps. Women don't like guys that spill pee on themselves. That's a fact. The entertainment was costly because of it. Everybody had been entertained and the sun was rising so we hit a little joint to eat some breakfast before crossing the border. This place had a limited menu. Smoked marlin tacos or oyster tacos. That was better than nothing so we pigged out and wobbled back to the US.
The story gets better, but it's almost 7PM and I'm still at work. Better get home. I might continue it another time.
