On the Niangua river.
My Best Man, Gustav, arraigned an easy trip...so we thought.
Oh buddy he nailed it--on Spring Break.
Much jackassery ensued, and tolerance grew thinner and thinner. It all broke when yours truly was hit in the head by a fist-sized chunk of ice by a Frat-Rat. His Lady was beaned in the brain-pan by a beer can refilled with water.
Errm-herm, now the schtick begins to get kinda thick.
There are four canoes amongst the Krewe. Two people each. Every one schooled in armed martial combat, including pole-axe.
The bigger folks quietly exited their canoes & readied themselves. My skinny arse was ready to jump-board a raft of offenders. The Missus was going "oh sh*t this is gonna be bad".
Just before Hell was unleashed, here comes the water patrol, sirens and lights blazing, and conservation agents in power-boats. The Krewe grounded their paddles, I sat me arse down and went back to paddling.
The only people harassed weren't us.