They say that every group has an asshole.
If you're in a group, and you don't know who the asshole is, it's probably you." -They
Truer words were never spoken in my opinion, especially when it comes to group travel. There's always one guy. And I say "guy" loosely, because sometimes that guy is a gal. But whatever their gender, they have one thing in common: they're the asshole of the group.
One year it was the woman who sprinted off the Mexican panga every afternoon to take the first shower, even though the camp was on solar power and had limited fresh water; she had long hair and it "needed to be clean every night."
Last year there was the guy who so alienated and abused the clients who had paid for his trip that by the second day they were - five grown men - reduced to tears.
Today's guy approached the owner of the ship, dragging a chair behind him (he intended to stay awhile). "I am a very unhappy camper" he said. He acted as if he was about to present a list of serious grievances, but in reality he only had his angle: For one day the ship's crew had lost something of his, his fly fishing rods. The fact that he had put his rods in the wrong place at the wrong time was of no consequence to him. The fact that the rods had been replaced for the day with equipment much better than his own, was of no consequence. In fact, it was part of the problem. The equipment was too good, he said, he "was afraid to use it." The trip so far, according to him, was a disaster.
What could we do to make it up to him? "I would like a free ($18,000) trip."
They were nice enough not to laugh at him.
"If you won't do that, I would like free massages for me and my wife, every day for the rest of the trip." He didn't get that either.
Guys like this, they always have an angle. It's not about what's right, it's about what they can get for free. It doesn't matter who has to pay for it, as long as it's not them.
But Karma has a way of dealing with such things and by the end of the week no one would fish with him. Having been a selfish jerk to each new fishing partner, he was out of options. One nice guy, realizing the awkward predicament and being part of a fishing threesome, graciously offered to fish with him. He would, in his words "take one for the team."
When the two came back at the end of the day, the nice guy had this to say: "He fished the front of the boat all day, crossing my lines and fishing in my water. I was casting from the back of the boat when all of a sudden, and with a tiny splash, he was gone. We looked at the front of the boat, where he had been standing, and he was simply not there anymore. He had fallen over the side of the drift boat, into a hole. It was just deep enough to cover his head. And for one moment, we had peace. For that brief moment we thought 'what if we just left him there?'"
But of course everyone jumped into the water to pull him out.
And of course he was fine. Wet and disagreeable, but fine.
And of course, he thanked no one.