So, Dad and I heard that MORE rotten weather was on the way, but the day was gorgeous, so we figured we had better make best of it while we had a chance! We had a spot in mind that we'd heard had been producing amazingly, but, just before arriving there, we took a detour to check out a spot that Dad had fished years ago, but that I'd never seen. It looked AMAZING: out in the country, right on the river, cattails, a BIG marshy backwash, easy-access, grassy, flat ground, not too overgrown, PLENTY of space, no mud to wade through (kind of amazing after all of the rain we've had!), etc., etc. We thought we'd both died and gone to heaven! We could even see Carp rolling and wallowing and love-making in the backwash! It was exciting! So, we set up, but didn't get any hits. This was the story of the day; no Carp hits on ANY of the multiple baits we tried (Only one White Sucker was caught all day between us.), and I had a headache that NOTHING would get rid of. I think the headache stayed, though, in large part because of the third, and WORST componet of the day: the Drunk. OK, so we're out in freaking farm country, and this guy shows up on a BIKE, already drunk on arrival, but we didn't think much of it. He sat down under a tree a few feet behind us and just sort of hung out. Didn't bother us for a while. No big deal. But he was smoking, and it wasn't tobacco. In addition, he was drinking out of a big bottle of orange soda. Judjing by his increasing obnoxiousness, the soda had to have been spiked. So the guy started trying to talk with us more and more, when, of course, we just wanted QUIET. As time went on, he started talking more and more total nonsense, and started talking to himself, rather than to us. Pretty soon, his speech got slurred, and louder and louder. I finally had enough and told Dad we had to get going. He wanted to go to the other spot we'd originally planned to go to, but my headache was as bad as ever (Pain-killers hadn't worked.), and it was already rather late in the day. I didn't feel up to packing a carload of gear up, then unpacking it again, fishing a few hours, then packing it all up again, THEN unpacking it AGAIN when we got back home. All I wanted to do was to get food, get home, unpack, and crash at that point. I could have dealt with a blnk day, and even the headache might have gone away if I could have fallen asleep, without dingbat prattering away behind us. I could not BELIEVE that our first trip out, at one of the best spots we've ever found, on the ONLY fair-weather day we've had for a MONTH when we've both been free, had to be ruined by an idiot! I'm STILL steamed!