N: Nix that and never turn your back!

Where oh where do I start? The beginning seems like a good place, so let's go there.

As should have been plainly obvious from yesterday's entry, I was a little bummed recently. I was kinda down. In a sort of existential funk. I fell asleep still feeling pretty low, and woke up, well, just kinda sore. I was thinking, you know, maybe it's this town. Maybe I've just got to get out of this town for a little while. Visiting Joe last week was a start, but now I needed some missing ingredient. I needed something, to quote one of the characters on one of the best shows on TV... "Legendary." The story had its roots in one very dull evening last summer.

Chrisbrown, Cary and I were sitting around some Saturday night trying to figure out what to do. See a movie? There was nothing playing. Get a drink? We had no booze. Then I suddenly set aside the magazine I'd been thumbing through and had a very rare moment of spontaneity. I blurted out, "We could go to Niagara Falls." Snap. Suddenly, the guys were with me.

I was a ludicrous plan. It was already after 10 I believe. The entire plan consisted of loading up CB's van with people, and hauling ass to the Falls. Once there, we'd get a look at the illuminated night-falls, then book it back to Oakville for sleep. Eventually the plan was scuttled for whatever reason these plans ever are and occasionally afterward somebody'd say, "Remember the time we almost went to Niagara Falls?" It was a pretty lame anecdote, you can tell because of the way I just told it. But it always stood out.

So this morning as I sipped coffee, I finally decided that something was missing, and that the cure would probably be a sudden trip to Niagara. I decided that once I got home I'd shop it around top whomever was around; namely, Lauren, given that she was probably as sick of this town as I was, and also has a car. So I log on to the ole 'puter and MSN and what do I see but Lauren's name with the subhead "Niagara Falls?" As you might imagine, I was in shock, and my opening line was "You read my freaking mind." I don't necessarily believe in Carl Jung's theory of the collective unconscious, but I gotta believe in something now, because it seems the very night before her friend Anna, who has been visiting from Scotland, had suggested, "How about we see the Niagara Falls tomorrow?" Lauren said I was welcome to join. It would be those two, and some other guy if they could get ahold of him. I was down with it, and arrangements were made, meaning I took care of everything I would need for the little dog I've been letting ruin my life for two weeks. So I walked and fed her and awaited my ride after shaving off my beard of boredom. I shit you not, my primary reason for not shaving for over a week (despite disliking the bristle of facial hair) was that I had nothing to do.

Sometime after 1, we headed off. They were unable to locate the other bloke, so it was just three. Not bad, I like a smaller dynamic, it gives me more room to be. We agreed later that three was a good number, and that larger travel groups can be unruly. So we headed off, using mapquest as a guide. Now here is a problem, when the directions say to get off the QEW at Victoria Avenue, you do so... even though there are two Victoria Avenue exits very very far from each other and we ended up getting a bit of a runaround. But eventually we figured out what was going on and got back on the road. Geography lesson learned: Niagara Falls is the end of the QEW. 'Nuff said.

We arrived sometime after 2:30. After partaking of Niagara Falls' burgeoning $5 Flat rate parking industry, we found our way to the falls. More accurately, we found our way to a souvenir stand with a restroom near the falls. I marvelled at all the wonderful expensive crap they were peddling, and also the inappropriate placing of a Moose mannequin in the Men's room (?) stationed at a urinal (??). Okay, it's novel I suppose, and a moose's gotta go too... but what if they get a rush of customers in there and there aren't enough urinals available? I'm thinking someone is just going to piss on the moose rather than wait in line. (Question: Why not remove the moose? Answer: It was chained to the wall. Yeah, because a moose leaning up against a urinal is something a lotta guys wanna get their hands on.)

I hadn't been to Niagara Falls since about Grade 8, but it was more or less as I remember it: a natural wonder surrounded by tacky souvenir shops, tourist traps, and hotels. I made some inappropriate remark about how at this very moment 1000 newlywed couples were doing it for the first time as husband and wife in this very city. For some reason that one didn't get a laugh. We eventually found out that Niagara Falls has been totally sufficient on tourist dollars since the late 1880's. So buy all the crap you can -- "Your money makes Greathings happen!" (The sign was literally rendered like that... we speculated on the pronunciation of "Greathings.")

We took a few snaps by the falls before going down to the Maid of the Mist. In all the various times I'd visited Niagara Falls as a kid, I had never been on the Maid, with the very obvious reason being that we usually went on March Break when the weather was miserable. (At some point it became repetitive that I kept saying I hadn't done things "in years/more than once/ever." It made it seem like I don't do much of anything, which at certain points is true.)

We got on the boat and were issued our plastic ponchos. It was the fashion statement of the decade, and I predicted someday they would dominate the scene. (The fasion scene.) After putting it on, I wondered why my mom had always been so scared of me putting a plastic bag over my head - this seemed pretty safe. More pictures were taken. The boat started going. The first part of the tour was Rock World. The one set of falls that has water crashing down on a massive pile of jagged rocks. I'm thinking that's not the falls people go over in barrels. The second part of the tour was Seagull World. If you've ever wanted to see 300 000 seagulls gathered on a rock face, the Maid of the Mist Tour is for you. But that's hardly the main attraction. Level three is Mist World. I mused to Lauren that the giant wall of mist was quite impressive and that if this were a horror movie, the mist might come alive and kill tourists. I told her, I wouldn't see that movie but maybe rent it if there was nothing else. Anyway, it's not really threatening. It's sort of a friendlier gateway to the final level of the tour: Get-Your-Arse-Wet World. In that level, you get really really close to the falls, and thus wet, hence the necessity of ponchos.

After we disembarked (that's boat speak for "got off" as in, "during long stays at sea, the crewmates disembark on each other in secret.") I kept my poncho, using the deft logic that it will probably rain eventually, then re-thinking it, I corrected myself, "Actually, it's guaranteed to rain eventually." We got a look at the green screen photo we'd taken before boarding, but decided we'd had enough good free pics. Digital cameras must be killing the scammers in the tourist industry. All the Maid of the Mist employees looked like they wanted to kill themsleves and everyone around. Maybe not all; but at least most.

After that, it was a brief stop for coffee and chat, as well as a look around the Hershey store (Sign: "FUDGE FUDGE FUDGE FUDGE FUDGE" Scott: "Do you think they have fudge there?") Everything inside was ungodly expensive. I like the sweets, but I'm not going to pay cocaine rates for them.

The ride back was uneventful, you know how things go. Despite traffic, I was in a great mood, primarily from being out in the world and doing something. It's also nice when you meet a friend's friend and get along with them; as opposed to being awkward, a flavour to which I've been accustomed.

As I said goodbye, they said thanks for coming, although the truth is I ought to have (and did) thank them for getting em outta my rut. I came home sometime just around 6, and wondered where everyone was. Eric and Brandon had went to pick up some random package B had been sent. Eric apologized in advance for dinner, as he'd experimented with the steaks and gotten a negative result. They were salty to the extreme thanks to the unfortunate marinade he'd concocted. I spent most of the evening attempting to appease the little dog.

Today was a brilliant day. I mentioned to the girls that I was coming to terms with the fact that summer employment didn't seem to be in the cards for me, but then again had never been. I always seem to find employment in September, so we'll try again this year. It isn't as though I'll be getting out of this town anyhow. I also got to re-tell the Tim Hortons/Boogie Wear story to Anna's fresh ears, which never seems to get old (with good reason: it's an amazing anecdote.)

I know my life is not great. For now, at times, whatever. I also know that it's not a dead end, which is overwhelmingly good news for me at this point. I'll be hanging out at Joe's again soon, and there are other things on the horizon. There's a world out there and I know it can't rain all the time. But when it does, I've got a poncho.

If you're lonely: reach out. Someone will catch you.

Currently enamoured with Beck. I've been a fan of his for a while, to the point where I insistently include "Where It's At" in every incarnation of Half-Past. His creative output has been pretty consistent in both quality and ongoing quantity, in fact I believe he's stepped it up in the last 5 years, ever since Sea Change. I respect a good ethic as much as good material. But his material is also basically always good.

Have a good night, brothers and sisters; and keep on rockin'
-Scott