After a while, I noticed a very refined, intelligent-looking man coming over by the mural to sit down on one of the convenient park benches not ten feet from me. What could I do? I kept prying in the bushes, scratching, digging, and vocalizing. Here comes the excitement, the ultimate hunt, the mural! Yes, I thought I had it all figured out. This little downtown micro was going to be a cinch. I figured that, after 90 caches, I had what it took. Hardly. Oh, I eventually found the cache, but I had to be somewhat creative in my public relations with onlookers.
"They don't have me fooled. I know where this one is." I totally trusted the Garmin to take me in the right direction; it landed me in the middle of bushes. Now, I know I am the only one that has been there (the rest of you are too intelligent to admit it). I scratched, I dug, I pawed, and I spurted off some creative vocabulary.
After a while, I noticed a very refined, intelligent-looking man coming over by the mural to sit down on one of the convenient park benches not ten feet from me. What could I do? I kept prying in the bushes, scratching, digging, and vocalizing. The nice little man just sat there and observed the mural, occasionally glancing at me in the shrubs. I was too preoccupied to notice that I was becoming more interesting to observe than the mural.
"Sir, I'm just curious. What exactly are you doing down there?" The quizzical man looked on with amazement and wonder.
"Sir, I am working in conjunction with the county extension agency. I am conducting a professional analysis on the quality of fertilizer the City uses in its community flowerbeds." The little man stared in wonder. "Is that right? I figured our tax dollars were going somewhere, I just didn't know they would end up in a flowerbed." I knew the man was intelligent, but somehow I did not think he would understand exactly what I was doing. I decided to be extemporaneous with my reply. "Sir, I am working in conjunction with the county extension agency. I am conducting a professional analysis on the quality of fertilizer the City uses in its community flowerbeds."
The little man stared in wonder. "Is that right? I figured our tax dollars were going somewhere, I just didn't know they would end up in a flowerbed." With that, the young man gathered his exquisite composure and bounced off, head bobbing and face smiling, down the street.
Now the fun was over, and I could continue my ultimate cache-n-bash hunt. Not quite. Now, the Garmin took me to some holly bushes nearby, just across the sidewalk. Things were looking better all the time. Here I am, whistling Dixie, checking the quality of fertilizer, and smacking my Big Red chewing gum, looking very professional, too; Billy Bob in the city.
Time for round two: In the bushes I go, kicking, scratching, and moaning. I can imagine what it all looked like to the innocent people walking by. I noticed there was a convenient hollow spot right in the smack dab middle of those holly bushes. "I know where those little weasels hid it!" I was delighted until I discovered that a holly bush had the ability to reach down in your pants, penetrate the Hanes, and deliver a rather nasty bite.
About this time a very nice looking, refined woman comes prancing by just as I bounce up from the bushes, murmuring strange noises. The site of a large male coming out of the bushes, with a strange device in his hands, hollering from the pain of holly leaves in the buttocks is, perhaps, more than this poor female could handle. She briefly exclaimed some kind of minute moan, and reached in her purse for a cell phone. I cleared the hollies with two steps, and high-tailed it back to the car. I decided to vacate the premises until a later date.
Having said all of this, it would have been better, in the first instance, just to tell the man I was geocaching; however, I would not have had this story to tell. As for the runaway woman, well, that is another story. I did not have any rope to lasso her so I could explain. With the luck I have, she was probably calling her husband to tell him she saw another geocacher.
Who says cachers cannot have fun? Be careful, have fun, and remember to take opportunities like these to tell people about cachin'. People are what make the sport what it is.