I got off work friday around 6'ish totally psyched about the weekend.... you know - renting some movies, staying up til the crack of dawn, and the best part - SLEEPING IN! But my plans were shot when Dad asked "So, you wanna go dip-netting with me?" Instantly I started to pull reluctant-disgusted-annoyed-faces which promped him to wave his hands at me in frustration and turn towards the stairs. All my Dad has to do is wave his hands in an "I give up" motion and the guilt comes heavy. So I chased him down before he closed the door on me and told him "I'll do it". He woke me up at 6:00 (its a saturday!!gahh!!) and we threw a wagon full of equipment: fillet knives, cutting boards, and nets, into my Dad's one ton, pea green Ford. We made our way about 30 miles to the mouth of the Kenai River, and it was PACKED. In the 15 years I have gone with my Dad fishing, I had never seen anything like it. If you've never been to the Kenai beach and seen the rat race - its pretty much like this: Picture men in neoprene chest waders, with gigantic hand held fishing nets along the shore, standing anywhere from knee to arm-pit deap. Some people choose to walk along with the current, while others choose to stand elbow to elbow waiting for the fish to come sauntering into their nets. So as I unload the gear, Dad begins to slip into his fishing gear. This process used to embarass me, but now I have learned to embrace it. My Dads outfit is very unlike everyone elses. A wet suit and flippers. Some people find it quite comical, watching him enter the water 30 yards further than everyone else, floating down the river, merely his head bobbing like a little sea otter. Well, I do anyway. But he's smart. On an average run, he usually catches two fish within his first five minutes. My job is to watch him bob down the river from my little lawn chair and at the sign of struggle run down to the shore and with my small lead pipe and finish the job. Its always my favorite.