By Clay Reid
Many times in my life I have been told that I have lost my dang mind. Well, this past week, I think it was proven, and from now on I won’t have the ammo to disagree. This is how the story goes, and before I start I want to apologize once again to my editor for my tardiness in getting this story out.
This year I decided to try my hand at winning a World Championship title as a coyote caller. In doing so, it meant working double-time at the ranch to be able to get everything caught up to speed in order to take off for a few days. That in itself was tough enough, because any time a man needs something to go easy, Mr. Life will throw you a curve ball. He did, but I hit that sucker and moseyed on around the bases any old way.
The World Championship was located in Utah this year, up around Salt Lake City. So me and my hunting partner of 20 years, Mitch McLemore, decided we would fly up there and sign up then fly back to Texas and hunt. This would have been no big deal, but neither of us are very big fans of flying.
We were committed in our quest to be the champion, so we loaded our butts up on that plane Wednesday night and headed out. Oh yeah, if you guys could’a just seen our hillbilly hiney’s getting around this airport, it might have brought ya to tears. We were lost from the word go.
However, it seems that a cowboy is quite the celebrity in an airport these days. Right off the bat, as we were trying to get strip searched in the airport security line, I noticed these cute little blondes looking me up and down and giggling.
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