My dad had the pressure on me to start deer hunting at a young age, and now that I had grown quite a bit, I wanted to take my course and get my first deer. Unfortunately, it was my first year of high school and winter had begun to spread across the region. Illness was circulated to students like Mein Kampf to the Germans before World War Two. Thanks to some anonymous person too cool to wear a coat in a Canadian November morning, I picked up a hefty fever, which only came to the attention of my parents and I the day before I left to start my course. In others words, I was dead and had terrible focus, but still passed with flying colors and watched this smug little scrappy-doo of a kid who couldn't keep his trap shut throughout the course totally bomb his test. It was a good day, despite the illness. But insult to injury, I was totally fine after that weekend and was totally cured once school started up again.