Jimmy teaches fly fishing in the store he's had 19 years, Patricks on Eastlake Avenue. He has dark roots, has Jimmy, a diamond stud, a dog of an obscure but refined breed, and the skill of explaining fly fishing in terms everyone can understand.
"The line is tapered," he said, "so it moves properly. Say you were at an S&M party, and you wanted to whip somebody -" His arm flashed out and brought an imaginary whip crashing to the table. "Now, if the whip isn't tapered, it's just going to fall there. But because it's tapered -" he made the same whipping motion again - "the whip flies through the air the way you want it to."
We - Aiden, Phil, and I - are learning to fly fish for our trip to Glacier in May. Saturday morning, 7:30, we meet up with Jimmy again.