Pye in the Face

My good friends Jason and Cary have started their own travel blog with which they will be documenting a two-month trek through Europe. The writing and pictures are superb so far, and if you’ve been through the continent, or are thinking about it, I’d recommend having a read.

“So that leads us to Fussen……we got behind the wheel and made our way south this afternoon. We plan to spend the next few days visiting the castles and medieval villages in the area before heading to Ischgl, Austria for a week of skiing. I think we’re looking forward to the drive as much as we are to skiing - the Bavarian Alps and Tyrols should be stunning! We’ll be sure to update the blog and post more pictures in the next few days…..oh, and more on Fussen later…..what a great little town!”

Jealous much, Dave? Yes, I am. I think I should re-read the 24 Hour Work Week and start planning a few jaunts of my own. Godspeed in Germany, kids. And whatever you do, don’t mention the war.

I’m home, I’m safe, I’m a little dehydrated - but I’m so very happy that January is over and my life is returning to some degree of normalcy. I look forward to kicking off the hilarity of regular blog posting but I have to head to Kingston for some important errands. In the meantime, please enjoy this piece I am creating for a client about some of the horrible things which have occurred in Valentine’s Day History. I’m back, kids. Lock up your daughters, liquor and maybe a couple of the dogs, too.

Coming to you live from the Doubletree Hilton at 400 Soldiers Field Road in Boston - I have escaped the clutches of Florida and am slowly picking my way back to Ottawa. I stupidly booked my flight back Sunday night to coincide with the Superbowl, so I’m very proud of that. Still, when I cross the threshold of my front door and begin a several hour berating by a small orange cat who’s been waiting for me for a month, I’ll be a very happy chappy. And I can always watch the highlights.

A few days later I collect the wee baby weasels, Rhubarb and Shep. Have a look at the latest puppy gallery updates for some heart-wrenching cutie-pant photos fresh from the breeder. Although life will begin revolving around the little guys, punctuated frequently by overwhelming doodie smells, I am thoroughly looking forward to fatherhood. And I’ll be gosh darned if I leave the province for good long time. I may sneak out for some fun in Beantown this weekend prior to departure, so get at me, dawgs.

As walking a cat on a leash seems a bit ridiculous to me, I decided to tape one of my jaunts with my parent’s cat, Spud, on the off-chance anything funny might happen. Watching it back and editing it together with a little Fats Domino, I realized the whole event was funny in and of itself - so I’m featuring it here on Veekend Video.

Not to mention the peacock standoff, poisonous caterpillar warning and controlled burn / raging blaze which touched off only a hundred meters from our trailer. Definitely an interesting 15 minutes of Florida morning, edited down for you here to about 4 and a half. This is one strange universe.

I’ve been meaning to write a few vignette type blurbs about some of the interesting experiences I’ve had whilst living in a trailer park for the last two weeks. As my time is fairly limited at the moment, I’m going to try and kill that bird and the Quizzlet bird with one stone today. Let’s see if I can spin these questions my way…

Appetizer: What is your favorite beverage?
Definitely water of the bottled variety. There are 4 types of water I have recently become intimately acquainted with while living in Wickham Park. Bottled water is self explanatory. Grey water is what ends up stored in the trailer via the sinks and shower. Black water is what they call the trailer sewage, pumped out every Monday by the infamous Honey Wagon - however the more able-bodied residents use the public washroom/laundry building which all the trailers encircle for ‘number twos’. The fourth type of water is the kind which shuts off for two days and forces masses of senior citizens to build pyramids in said washroom building like ancient Egyptians.

Home Sweet Home

Soup: Name 3 things that are on your computer desk at home or work.
My father’s Captain Teague doll, which spouts a variety of piratey sayings voiced by Keith Richards when its motion detector is tripped, sits on the table I have commandeered as a desk. “It’s not about living forever. It’s about living with yourself forever” is what I’m greeted with every time I get up to put the cat on or off his leash. Every day I move it somewhere else, and every day it miraculously returns to haunt me. I feel like I’ve been living in this trailer forever and am craving the space, comfy bed and even the temperature of home. “It’s not about living in the trailer forever. It’s about… OK you’re right. Keep the rum.”

Salad: On a scale of 1-10 (10 being highest), how honest do you think you are?
Every evening there is a moveable feast of sorts, with all of my parent’s friends gathering in lawn chairs for drinks in front of one trailer or another. One of the friendlier residents, who is teaching me how to play Frisbee golf next week, is a Civil War re-enactor with a little penchant for booze. The other night he mixed up vodka with some sort of coffee energy drink and was passing it around. “It’s not bad,” I said, “but you’ll want to try my Mudslides sometime.” I may regret making that statement, as I have been conscripted by the North to make ’slides for the whole park tonight and I have to head out soon to get the fixings. Thank goodness the liquor is so cheap in Florida. Where does the honesty factor in to it, you ask? I told them they weren’t too strong (senior citizens, remember). That statement alone knocks me right down to a 7.

Main Course: If you could change the name of one city in the world, what would you rename it and why?
Wickham Park is in a city called Melbourne which is an hour away from Orlando where I fly in and out of. It’s a myriad of strip malls, palm trees and homeless people on bikes. I have, however, enjoyed the Mexican food which is in short supply in Ottawa. Everyone says “y’all” and I have been reminded that Florida is indeed part of the American South, although people don’t often consider it in that category due to all the tourism and Latin American influence. There’s an Airstream trailer near ours with both a classic Confederate flag and the “Don’t Tread on Me” version flying high off the top. Most of the folks in the park have been in the military, and one fellow was a substitute teacher at both Concord Carlisle and Acton Boxborough whom Janet claims to remember. I’m rambling here, but a reasonable spin. I guess I’d rename it Peacockton, based on a recent event I captured on video and will be editing into a clip to post here over the weekend.

Dessert: What stresses you out? What calms you down?
I have to get back to work: Venemous caterpillar warnings / Mudslides.

I finally made it to the trailer park in Melbourne, Florida around 7pm last night and am now working on one of the surgical waiting room computers at the hospital where my Mom is having her operation. Luckily there’s also a big flatscreen in here so my father will be mesmerized for a couple of hours. So far so good, and I hope to set out soon in search of the cafeteria for one of those awesome hospital lemon danishes and a shot glass full of OJ.

Last night after my arrival I set up my computer and tried to get online using my newly purchased Verizon Wireless card. It’s a little antenna looking thing that you plug into one of your USB ports that allows you to access the internet using cell phone signals. It costs $60 a month and works pretty well. I bought it specifically while I was here at Christmas so I could work from the park for the next few weeks while I’m in Florida, but it was a Godsend Monday and Tuesday when I was stuck in Ottawa. I used it for work and left it on all night as I slept in my hotel because it’s a flat fee. After I set it up and tried to log on, I got an error message telling me to call customer service. I was quickly sent from the one of the main customer service reps to some sort of ‘wireless investigation’ department. The person I spoke to went on to inform me that they’d ‘hotlined’ (disabled) my card because over the previous 2 days in Ottawa I’d racked up $908 in ‘roaming charges’. Apparently I only had a national plan.

My silver tongue quickly came to the rescue as I calmly pulled out the dementia and ass cancer cards while also relaying how I’d been shown a coverage map when purchasing the card a few weeks before when I was last in the States. “Sure it’ll work in Ottawa!” (Oh-tah-wah) the sales person working on commission cheerfully told me. So no big tragedy here. Verizon is doing the right thing and waiving the charges. But I can’t imagine it’s too hard to implement measures that would keep such a device from working at all in another country. Anyway, I have bigger fish to fry today. Thanks to everyone who’s sent along well wishes, I look forward to your Valentines Day cards and I’ll keep you posted.

I’m back at gate 11 in the Ottawa airport, once again trying to get on my flight to Orlando. Yesterday my 11:30am flight was eventually cancelled around 3pm, and currently that same flight is the only flight throughout every airline that still hasn’t been cancelled. As visibility through the window beside me is about 25 feet - I’m not optimistic.

I’ve never seen fog like this. Did anyone see The Mist a couple of months ago? I did, and everytime I longingly look out at the runway to see if the fog has lifted, I expect a giant monster bug to smash against the glass. This is unreal. My mother’s surgery is tomorrow and I have to get down to look after my father. But what do you do? Is it worth even getting mad?

I’ve already called the hotel and re-booked my room for another night, because there’ll be another swarm of Orlando-bound cancellites scrambling for them in about 3 more hours. Tonight I may venture out of the hotel, do myself a favor and treat myself to a decent dinner. But to be honest - I have no idea what’s around. In my 3 times now driving to and from over the last 2 days, the various cabs and shuttles can’t see farther than about 10 feet in front of them.

At least WestJet is making it as tolerable as they can. They automatically rebooked my on today’s flight immediately after yesterday’s was cancelled. By the time I got through to them on the phone, they were like “Yep, same time tomorrow.” So I have that going for me. And total conciousness on my deathbed. I’m a looper. A pro jock.

All too frequently, people use their blogs to bitch about things. I try very hard not to do that, exclusively. Although I’m about to do a bit of whingeing, ultimately this post was inspired by WestJet’s amazing customer service. The old adage goes something like… Do something nice for someone and they’ll tell a few close friends. Do something bad and they’ll tell anyone who’ll listen. Well - I’m attempting to do the opposite here.

When I flew down to Boston in early November for my citizenship ceremony, I had a flight booked with Air Canada to fly down on Tuesday and return on Friday. After I booked the flights I found out that two friends of mine were driving 9 hours from D.C. to be in Boston for my swearing in and it was meant to be somewhat of a surprise. Not only that but they had made plans to stay the weekend too. Now, if someone drives 9 hours to sit in a boring 3-hour ceremony on your behalf - that’s a friend. I also discovered that my sister had organized a little party on the Friday night. Long story shorter, I absolutely had to change my return flight to Sunday.

Air Canada raked me over the coals. By the time I got off the phone with them I found myself sitting on the couch in shock - having just spent an additional $600 to change the flight having already spent $600 on a round trip ticket a few weeks before. With taxes and all that good stuff two short flights to and from Boston ended up costing me nearly $1500 dollars. I’ll just let that sit with you for a second…

Looking for alternative airlines, my Mother suggested WestJet. She knew from experience that they had a direct flight from Ottawa to Orlando. To get to Orlando on Air Canada (which I did 2 weeks ago for Christmas) not only do you have to sell a kidney but you have to first fly to Toronto, find your baggage, go through customs, go through airport security for a second time and then by the grace of God make your connecting flight. Same deal on the way back a week ago. So when my Mother recently told me her cancer had returned and she needed me down there again by January 15th to take care of my Father while she had her second surgery for this goddamnned fucking bastard of a disease, I sighed audibly. Then I remembered WestJet.

I booked a round-trip flight on WestJet.com back to Florida 6 days ago as soon as I returned from there. The fare was so low that when I CC’d the neighbor who is looking after my cat on the itinerary she called me to ask how I’d managed to get such a low fare. It was almost half of what Air Canada would have charged for a semi-last minute booking. My Mother called me yesterday to tell me that her surgery had been moved from the 15th to the 9th - so immediately I envisioned a good part of my savings flying out of the window like a flock of seagulls. I mean, that’s what I’m used to, right?

Not only did WestJet get me on a flight this coming Monday when I called them an hour ago, they agreed to put my return ticket into a credit because I don’t know when I’ll be able to return. Did the last minute change to Monday have a fare increase? Unfortunately, yes. $20 fucking dollars. Not only that, but when I briefly mentioned the reason for my schedule change, Chantal unflinchingly said she was going to waive the normal fee for that which would have come in at close to $100. I was speechless.

WestJet’s routes are currently limited, I was sad to discover they don’t fly to Boston, for example, but the agent told me they were adding new destinations all the time. Check out their current routes and do yourself a favor - fly WestJet. I’ll update this post with some details from the actual flight experience when I get to FLA.

Tomorrow I set off for Boston, yet again, for the final piece of my American Citizenship puzzle. I will be sworn in as a bonafied Yank Thursday at 12 noon inside Faneuil Hall. It’s been a year-long effort - much to the amusement of Air Canada’s coffers, but I am beyond happy and excited to finally be able to hand back my Green Card and start enjoying the perks of being a proper American. I’m still not entirely sure what those entail, but I’m hopeful.

I touch down in Beantown tomorrow afternoon at 5pm and will be hanging out on Hanover Street (Paradiso/Volle Nole) until my sister is finished work and decides to come to the North End and get me on our eventual way to her place in Medford. Thursday is the ceremony, followed by liquory silliness… and then the real silliness begins Friday night when Janet is said to be throwing me some sort of patriotic pant-puller either at her house or in a Beantown bar. If you’re interested in joining the fray - call my sister. Or, just show up. I’ll post details here on the blog as soon as I have them. You’re also completely welcome not to give a toss.

I’ll be heading into Boston tomorrow at 3pm for the first time in quite a while, and obviously I’m beyond excited to see my friends, attend my buddy’s wedding and finally have a Harpoon IPA. Words cannot begin to describe how much I have missed this particular beverage, and I’ll likely be marinated in it like an over sized steak tip by the time I return to Canada. To say I miss Boston would be true, but not all that much to be totally honest. I’ll be back again in October for business and by the time the snow flies I’ll have likely had enough to last me through the winter. What I will miss is Thanksgiving at the infamous Red House in Concord - but what are you gonna do? It’s been sold and that last bastion of high-school hijinks is now ancient history. I’m sure the boys will come up with another bastion.

Today I am taking my father to the International Plowing Match in Crosby, Ontario. I went once when I was a tadpole and remember it being a big fair laid out like a town with streets of vendors hawking tractor toys and fried dough. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to get my work done to ensure that I don’t have to miss the Queen of the Furrow Crowning Banquet later this evening. You can’t win if you don’t attend.

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