OK -- not a bar. But this Amish guy goes hunting ... with my father-in-law a few weeks ago in Lancaster, PA. My father-in-law and Eli (I'm not kidding) have been friends for many, many years, and there are lot of "insider" Amish stories that we can tell (like the phone in the barn, the car parked in the more "liberal" Mennonite neighbor's barn -- or my personal favorite: the "outhouse" behind the barn, which really serves as a phone booth).
It was a cold day, quite typical for hunting, and my f-in-l and Eli decided to split up for a time. My f-in-l is a hunter by blood, by DNA, by many decades of life-experience -- nothing gets him as excited as sitting still for hours frozen to his deer stand, clutching his shotgun with his fingers stiffened forever by either ice or arthritis. On this particular day, he settled in quite comfortably, the cold not bothering him one bit since his nerve endings were probably already dead.
After a long time of peaceful enjoyment in the woods -- peace and quiet being the next best thing to hunting -- he found himself drifting into that state of euphoria ... or was it hypothermia? No, euphoria -- he loves it. His favorite place on earth, in the still quiet of the forest. Not a crunch, not a crack, not a shuffle, not a sound. Nirvana.
But then, he hears something.
A ringing.
A ringing? In the woods? Wha ---- ?! Who in the world would be calling him in the middle of the woods, the middle of Nowhere, PA, interrupting his precious, sacred moment of heaven on earth??!!
It was his cell phone.
It was Eli.
The Amish guy ... with his cell phone.
Eli was cold and wanted to go home.
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