Hey Boo-Boo! Let's go get a pic-o-nic basket!

It started early. I got to work before the store opened and helped stock the shelves with stuff -- expense camping stuff. When the store opened, customers came and went. It was only about three hours into it that I realized a lot of large, rather chubby white men with beer t-shirts and dirty hands were asking for certain maps -- maps deep in the Cascade wilderness, maps we generally don't carry. It was only after helping such a man create a map he needed on a map machine, did I realize that these men, aside from their attire and hygiene, had something in common.

They were all hunters.

Hunting season is days away. On one website, which I looked up at work out of curiosity, has an hourly countdown for the various hunting seasons in Washington. 9 days until pheasants can be killed, and bears are currently in season. 16 days for deer and duck, 30 days for muzzleloader elk and archery deer. Who knew?

My favorite hunting customers were younger, though still unclean and pudgy, who came in like twins dressed in over-sized t-shirts with MCCAIN-PALIN embossed on their shirts and NRA emblazoned on their hats. One guy even had a McCain-Palin button as big as a dinner plate droopy from his t-shirt.

"Ya'll carry guns?" he asked me.

"No, sir, we do not." It was all I could do to be polite. Do they realize how much they fit the stereotype I'm trying to erase from my head of what McCain-Palin supporters look like? My co-worker wasn't so pleasant. Well, he was pleasant to their faces, but once they sauntered off my co-worker said, "Good thing we don't carry guns. We might have to use them to fight off the rednecks!"

Later he quipped, "We need to find those guys and give them directions to Cabellas (a down-home hunting store) and tell them you'll smell it before you step in it."

One customer did not fit the mold (the mold of a hunter or the mold of a right-wing Republican?). She was about 5 feet 2 inches tall and looked surprisingly like Sarah Palin. When she approached me for help finding a map, I pictured her as a typical hiker curious about a weekend trip to the Alpine Lakes.

But no. "I need a general map, large in scope because I'm going moose hunting."

I choked. "Oh," I said in a very knowing voice, "You're a hunter!"

Then a man, who was also looking at maps, and who fit the mold of both a Republican AND a hunter said, "You mean elk, don't ya?"

SPT (as one co-worker called her = Sarah Palin's Twin) giggled and said, "Yes, I mean elk! I've never been before, what kind of map do you think I need?" At which point the Republican hunter and SPT carried on a conversation about hunting and maps and all things guns.

I stepped away.

She came to the register and I was there to ring her up. "Did you find everything you needed for your hunting trip?"

"Why yes, thank you," she bubbled. "That man was very helpful."

I had to ask. "So, what's called you to the hunt?"

"Oh, I'm a writer."

Of course.

She continued. "I feel I should really understand hunting before I write about it. I've only gutted a chicken and a sheep, but I really want to get my hands dirty with a moose."

"An elk?" I questioned.

"Yes, an elk."

The hunters shuffled through, one after the other, and I did my best to steer clear. Instead, I helped a man who was from North Carolina. He was going hiking at Mt. Rainier. "We have hills," he told me, "beautiful hills, but I really want to give these mountains a try."

I helped him plan his route and then he noticed the watches. "My son wants a watch for his birthday. What can you tell me about them?"

This is a loaded question. We carry about 150 different watches and from day to day they are never the same. But I liked this man so I did my best to describe for him the many features. He chose two options. "I need to find my wife. Will you be here when I get back?"

"Certainly!" And he was off. About a half hour later he returned, wife in tow, and she was a pleasant (and un-hunter) as he. In the end, she bought the watch for him for his birthday and they would decide back in NC if their son wanted a similar watch for his birthday.

So I rung them up. She paid and I ran her card through the cash register, flipped it over to check out the signature to compare to the receipt and what do you know, we shared the same last name. While this may not seem like much if your name is Smith or Jones or Johnson or Rogers, but when your name is a rarity, one transported over from Eastern Europe, one you rarely see or hear or ever meet, it's not surprising to know that I jumped.

"My god! We have the same last name! And it's spelled exactly the same!"

We danced a jig and talked about relatives and hometowns and geneology and who knows, we may yet be related. "I knew I liked you right off!" the man said to me and I could tell he meant it.

"Have a great hike!" And we waved goodbye to each other.

I turned to the next customer, who was a large man with hairy hands and a grimey shirt. "Ya'll carry any guns?" he asked.

I work again tomorrow. 8 days until the pheasants must take cover. Bears are scurrying as I type. And those muzzleloader elk better watch out for SPT and her desire to gut a moose.