Not quite a disaster

Discussion in 'Free Thoughts' started by Tiassa, May 29, 2010.

  1. Tiassa Let us not launch the boat ... Valued Senior Member

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    Canadians are really cool people. This may seem an odd way to start, but presently it's snowing in Calgary, where I am enjoying enduring a seven-hour layover before continuing on to London. Once there, I need a bus to Reading, and then a train out to either Bath or, depending on my arrival time, Bristol.

    To the other, it feels good to be in motion. I have experienced what one might only describe as a colossal, hilarious cockup. Rule #1 of international travel: Never let your passport leave your person unless you have eyes on it.

    So, Thursday night, at dinner, one of my traveling companions with much experience abroad suggested that we photocopy our passports to aid the embassy should something happen and require a new one. My mother, who is sponsoring this trip as a retirement celebration, was staying the night with her mother, and said, "My sister has a copy machine."

    Friday morning, I called before setting out, feeling foolish for my paranoia: "We've got the Passports, right?"

    Of course we do. Once in the car, I was anxious to have the thing back in my hands. See, I always forget at least one thing when I travel, and this time it was my iPod. No biggie. I'll live without it on the flight across the Pond. Anyway, I asked for it. "It's in my luggage," she said. "We'll get it at the airport."

    I haven't seen my mother so horrified, so close to tears, since I totaled her car when I was seventeen. She left my Passport sitting on the copier.

    Long story short, of course, is that I couldn't board the flight. Sending them ahead, I worked out with the ticketing agents what we needed to do, retrieved my Passport with much thanks to my cousin Jim, who raced over to his mother's house, found the thing, and made a Herculean effort to bring it to me in time. Didn't make it. Life goes on.

    Thus I spent the night at a Red Roof Inn just outside the airport, preferring the solitude of five hours worth of NCIS and then Casino Royale while eating cheap pizza, drinking heavily, and nursing cigarettes.

    Lesson learned.

    So I awoke early; thanks to the time difference, my brother called me at a quarter of six, fifteen minutes before my alarm, to advise me on the path to meeting up in Bath or Bristol.

    My 8:50 AM flight was bumped to 10:00, with a seven hour layover in Calgary instead of Vancouver. And let me tell you ... snow, in the last days of May, was so refreshing that the stress is gone. Add to that, did I mention that Canadians are very, very cool people?

    At any rate, so here I am. Life goes on, and I have an eight hour flight ahead of me in approximately four and a half hours.

    Prescription: Drink some more.

    By the way, Canadian cigarettes are adorable, with the dire warning on the exterior, and quitting resources on a package insert. Benton, which I'm smoking on recommendation of a local, are more than adequate.

    Such is the way of things. I had to share it with someone. I'll blog it later. But, yes, Canadians rock.

    It's not quite a disaster, and certainly brought its frustration, but I have to admit the solitary travel is doing me some good. It forces me to deal with people, and that always helps. Well, okay, usually. If it was just Seattlites, that would be a different story.

    Take care. Have a laugh on me; I deserve it.
     
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  3. Idle Mind What the hell, man? Valued Senior Member

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    And Albertans are generally referred to as the Texans of Canada (lovingly, of course -- or maybe not so much).

    But Calgary is something different. I'm sure Vancouver feels like Seattle, but with more rain.
     
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  5. Tiassa Let us not launch the boat ... Valued Senior Member

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    Fresh off a trad session at a bar whose name I can't presently recall

    Just an update from Galway, Ireland. It's been a hell of a trip. Seattle to Calgary, and then to Heathrow. Bus to Reading, a drink at the Three Guineas, and then a train out to Bath Spa. At that point, I caught up with everyone else, and like I said, what is a holiday without an adventure? At least mine are dramatic. Like today; a handicapped woman asked for a push, and of course I'm going to oblige, which led to a complete disaster that had my mother yelling at me like I was ten years old. Never mind. Other people's disasters? Oh, heavens, my brother pulled off the M6 early on the way to Liverpool, and blew a whole three pounds seventy on the toll. Then again, he also blew the hotel reservation in Galway, which wrought immeasurable harm to his ego. Life goes on, for the living, you know?

    The big news here, or maybe not really, is the shooting in ... um ... oh, hey, Cumbria.

    Anyway, on to more important things. Or something like that.

    The response to the Israeli raid on the Gaza flotilla is, at least over here, over the top against Israel. To be honest, I haven't seen anything like it in the States. That is, specifically, the waves of condemnation are only mitigated by the letters to the editors of various tabloids screaming about (sniff!) anti-Semitism.

    Again, never mind.

    Drank to a trad session tonight, and the one thing I'll say about dinner is that the Irish make a hell of a steak. In the States, a pepper sauce for a steak is usually green or black peppercorn. This was white pepper, and insidiously good.

    The beer is great here, and I'm alive, and, hey, I got to see Solsbury Hill. I mean, sure, the stone circle at Avebury, or the dolmen in the Burren were cool, and all, but Solsbury Hill ....

    Don't ask how drunk I was when I got off the train at Bath. My seat mate, as such, was a fine young musician from Dubai, a drummer. And a sandwich shop that I first thought was a pizza place (it's called Upper Crust) got me through that last leg along the rail.

    Sack it. Tomorrow, I'll be drinking in Dublin, and that without mercy. We've managed to get my mother to start drinking cider, which is a plus in itself. But, hey, don't ask me about the goddamn flight. Needless to say, I adore Air Canada, the free booze, and the fact that they counted on me passing out like a decent, civil chap instead of cutting me off. I couldn't tell you how much I drank on the flight over. Heaven knows, Rickard's is a terrible beer; I don't have a taste for Crown Royal, and did I mention that it was fucking snowing in Calgary?

    Anyway, y'all be good. I'll be home ... um ... yeah. I think the fourteenth. Don't make me kick your asses, kids. Love to all, of course, even those of you I don't seem to get along with.
     
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  7. Tiassa Let us not launch the boat ... Valued Senior Member

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    Something about York and pasties

    Good morning from York. Something about sitting in a West Cornwall Pasty Co. shop and checking in here amuses me greatly, so I thought to do so.

    Minor adventures abound; at least mine are dramatic. Meanwhile, I have no time to write any sort of travelogue; my attempt to blog this trip is an utter travesty (really, there's not much to see there, so don't bother).

    I'm not checking in on anything moddish or administrative, so I hope y'all are still getting along and not clawing each other's eyes out. Anyway, er ... I'm only using the bandwidth because I can. So, right. Be good, y'all.
     
  8. hypewaders Save Changes Registered Senior Member

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    Oh, Canada.

    Och Ireland! Awesome! (I was wondering whither you had hied) Yes I like Canada but of a trip to Ireland I am very jealous right now.

    Please Register or Log in to view the hidden image!

    Then you haven't heard about the Desolation of Ethics Morality, and Justice? It was apocalyptic in there, and all I did (sorry) was move in one teensy unwashed thread. It spread around the better subfora and all the old SciForums gang is gone now, except for me, Sandy, and a phone-card spammer (so it's not a complete disaster yet, and I'm supposed to have lots of Minutes).

    Bonnie Voyage, and many happy returns, Tiassa
     
    Last edited: Jun 8, 2010
  9. Tiassa Let us not launch the boat ... Valued Senior Member

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    Just barely

    Sorry to miss the fun. Meanwhile, I'm back, and just barely. Apparently, the Border Patrol is so frightened of questions that asking someone the purpose of why they are detaining you requires the armed intervention of three officers. My advice to the Border Patrol: If you don't want to answer a habeas corpus question, then don't ask me, "Do you have any questions at this time?"

    And the dumbest thing about it? How is it that I am detained in U.S. Customs in order to enter Canada ... from England?

    Then again, what is a holiday without an adventure? Starts rough, ends rough. Sounds about right.

    Meanwhile, two brief notes about England and beer:

    • We in the States need a proper equivalent of the Cask Marque Scheme.

    • The alleged American-expat bar The Black Grape, located in Wood Green, Haringey, should be avoided. Or, to be more accurate, let us consider the fact that an English bar located in London, on the night of England's World Cup opener against the U.S., was incapable of serving beer. No, really. Through the entire game, I drank a whole two bottled beers. How is it that my friend could belly up to the bar for twenty minutes and be incapable of buying a drink? How is it that, after forty-five minutes, when we finally did get our first round, a bartender cannot tell the difference between Guinness Foreign Extra and Budweiser? And how is it that with as many as five people behind the bar, the best pace I saw was one patron served every two minutes? The Black Grape is an embarrassment to London, English folk everywhere, including Her Majesty. So, Americans, if you hear of an expat bar where you can drink among your fellows, that's all well and fine. Just find another bar. It's not worth it just to talk baseball and the unfortunate Stanely Cup outcome with a nice guy in a Phillies shirt.​

    And a last note, which seems rather quite strange to me still: In the past, I think the closest I've ever been to a head of state was President Bill Clinton, during the '96 campaign. He was 200 feet away at most, behind bulletproof glass. Saturday, I was forty feet away from Her Majesty and the Duke of Edinburgh, with no glass between us. Strange, that. But, 'tis true, one would be hard pressed to beat the pomp and circumstance of Trooping the Colour. Impressive, indeed, to the point that I stopped laughing at how silly it all seemed.
     
  10. Fraggle Rocker Staff Member

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    That would make it like Portland.

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    We let Helen Thomas say it all.

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    A lot of the victims of our bureaucrat-run educational system think that Canada is a state. Apparently some of them have grown up and gotten jobs in the Customs Dept.
    Is that real Budweiser, from the Czech city of Budějovice, whose German name is Budweis, or the hamster urine that passes for beer in America? It took a while for Anhaeuser-Busch to be allowed to export their kiddie-beer to Europe, since Budweiser was already a venerable brand.

    A clue: if a "beer" has to be ice-cold to taste good, save your money.
    When's the last time anyone tried to assassinate a British monarch? What would be the point? To make Charles the new king?

    I didn't think there was any need to protect Backward Baby Bush. Who would have wanted to give the job to Cheney?
     
  11. gendanken Ruler of All the Lands Valued Senior Member

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    Ah, the murky scent of nostalgia.


    Tessi still suffers restless lip syndrome.
     
  12. Tiassa Let us not launch the boat ... Valued Senior Member

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    County Mayo got nothin' on you

    Ah, I missed you, too, my porcelain princess.

    How's tricks?
     
  13. gendanken Ruler of All the Lands Valued Senior Member

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    Writing a thesis on how misogyny is the new Pilates.

    How's pricks?
     
  14. Tiassa Let us not launch the boat ... Valued Senior Member

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    Sound investments

    Dunno, haven't had any lately.

    Sorry, don't have any witty line to go here. It's not worth the two seconds required to think of one.
     

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