A co-worker had spent the last couple of weeks of December saying, “I bet you’re going to fall in love with a poacher” (you know who you are), “like you’re not going to know he is a poacher, still…” I tried to give so much side-eye that I thought my eyes would fall off my face.
Cut to Friday, we walk across the path to the bar, and outside there is a Mad Max looking vehicle (unfortunately did not have my camera, but it was a jeep with a hunting seat mounted on the back). My first thought was “who owns the Mad Max vehicle?”, Not putting together that it was for hunting, I was hoping it was more for observing…Or hoping that they had secretly started filming the next Mad Max and maybe Tom Hardy had escaped from set and ran away to our little watering hole.
I pushed through the doors and came upon a gentleman smoking a cigar, wearing a safari shirt, shorts and one of those old leather safari vests, if he didn’t look so German/ possibly related to Trump, and poacher-ish, it might have looked like a scene from a Vogue, “Back to Africa” shoot.
I sat at a bar, ordered a rum and coke, which comes as a shot of rum and a bottle of coke. He picked up my coke and said “Shall I poor for you?” Had I accidentally gotten in a time machine and travelled back to 1910? Was someone from NBC’s Timeless going to show up and make me sign a release?
I asked about his vehicle, and he proceeded to tell me about shooting jackals: farmers call him with a jackal problem and he comes out, chases them down, and then shoots them. Side note – I am sure they are pests, but I feel like there needs to be a better way….
“Must remove myself from situation before I become attracted to semi-poacher and make coworker correct” I thought, politely saying that I had a pool game to go lose. (Second side note, it would have taken a lot of rum to find him attractive)
Safe for now, you know who you are….