California Trip Report #1
Mary (my radiant, vibrant and somewhat temperamental wife) is cross-stitching.
For those of you who are unaware of this phenomenon, imagine staring at a 1mm by
1mm grid held three inches from your face. As you go cross-eyed (as Mary is
successfully demonstrating) and lose most of your fine motor skills, you must
manipulate a dangerous weapon (needle) and thread it though the grid. The final
product is apparently a pattern of a cute, furry animal. Mary began this project
about 1350 days ago. I can barely make out what I believe is an ear...
And so life begins once more in the 5th wheel trailer with my lovely wife and
her in-laws (yes, my parents). I was scolded by many of you last year for
continuously subjecting my parents to relentless ridicule. I've decided to
re-direct my attention to my wonderful wife for at least some of this trip
report. She is needy and requires attention. Unfortunately, for her, she did not
specify what type of attention.
Ottawa at 3:30 a.m. in the morning is hauntingly serene. Even the politicians
have been silenced at this ungodly hour. Only the unnerving rattle of a nearby
air conditioner efficiently running in 15C heat broke the wonderful calm this
morning. A taxi ride to the airport would seem like the most logical solution
but even better would be to secure a ride in our neighbour's vehicle. A vintage
bottle of Jonnie Walker Black encouraged him to do so. I was required to forward
a wake-up call to this kind and caring neighbour. He was far more pleasant than
my wife who stubbed her toe against the scattered luggage that surrounded her
bed as she groggily shuffled towards the shower.
The folks at Air Canada have decided to enhance their customer service by
eliminating airplane food. Brilliantly, my stunning wife decided to prepare
breakfast at the airport's Tim Horton's prior to our flight. Within a few hours,
we were surrounded by 2 bagels, 2 Danishes, 2 muffins and 2 double-doubles. We
ate and slurped together silently as the enormous line that had formed behind
her began moving again. Unfortunately, one of the muffins was not consumed so we
had to bring it with us on the flight. Mary found it necessary to screen it
through security with the rest of our carry-on luggage. Apparently, there were
some renegade berries hidden within the fruit explosion muffin.
Mary constantly demands that I massage her back. I constantly refuse claiming
fatigue or natural disinterest. Fortunately, a machine at the airport was
willing to succumb to her overwhelming needs. A loonie is all it takes to
entertain my graceful wife at 5:00 a.m. As I watched her grin and gyrate in this
reclining monstrosity, I realized flowers just weren't going to cut it
anymore...
I left Mary on the plane with a sullen looking teenage girl who looked like she
was ready to castrate the stuffed animal in her grasp. I retreated to empty
seats at the rear of the plane to avoid the exponential assault of two grumpy
females. Actually, the enhanced legroom and window-seat view were my primary
motivators. I did return to my assigned seat but did not feel welcome. I'm
guessing the spicy Clamato juice I had just consumed was permeating the stale
airplane air and nauseating both of them.
Nature called a number 2 at the exact moment there was a line-up at the 2nd
class washrooms. I decided my best option was the "first-class" washroom since
most of the "first-class" passengers were either passed out from all the free
booze or too busy calculating their next move to overtake the CEO of their
respective companies. However, my brilliant plan was sharply thwarted. I had the
misfortune of meeting the entire flight crew including the pilots who decided it
was the best time to use the facility. As I ran back to the second-class
washrooms, I pondered the implications of an unsuccessful run. Fortunately,
nature's call was answered in time.
We landed with little fanfare in Vancouver. In fact, no one was there to greet
us. My father saved the enormous financial burden of paying for parking by
endlessly circling the airport terminal in a diesel-guzzling monster truck
waiting for our arrival.
Upon arrival at the RV site, my mother attempted to force the entire content of
a small-town grocery store down our throats. Thankfully, we were able to resist
until she served lunch one hour later.
So here we are back in RV life. My parents have seriously upgraded the RV this
year. In fact, they bought a new one. This one has three pullouts. "Pullouts" to
all you non- RVers are essentially the gimmick of the RV world. RVers proudly
enter a campground with their "small rigs" secretly chuckling to themselves.
Once they are "level" they engage a couple of switches. What essentially happens
next is known as the erection of the RV world. A seemingly innocent "small rig"
turns into a "monster rig." The living space increases immensely sacrificing
small shrubberies in the process.
Naturally, my father is very proud of his new pullout. My mothers claims she
can’t see the difference...
Mary could not adjust to the overwhelming 3-hour time difference. She decided to
retire at 2 p.m. Pacific Standard Time. I was dragged along into the abyss with
her. When we both awoke, my mother was dutifully preparing supper and my father
was happily consuming beer. Ah yes, our vacation had begun...
My father had his medical appointment in Vancouver on Monday morning so we all
trekked downtown for moral support. Mary and I decided to embark on a quest to
find sushi and bubble tea. Yes, Mary wanted bubble tea. I do not have fond
memories of any type of tea. My caring and supportive mother always attempted to
feed me tea after suffering from severe outbursts of nausea. She claimed it
would settle my stomach. Instead, it scarred my taste buds for life. Mary’s
journey to bubble tea euphoria ended in a small Vietnamese restaurant. Bubble
tea is regular crappy tea with a sweet fruity flavour. However, at the bottom of
the glass is "tapioca" that really looks like half-rotted jelly beans.
Fortunately, the sushi experience was positive for both of us and conjured up
some of the raw excitement I apparently missed out on from digesting bubble tea.
Grocery shopping in a Superstore should never be done by four family members.
Inevitably, all participants are separated and spend the rest of the time
looking for each other instead of the necessary ingredients. Mary broke up our
party in her search for plum sauce. My mother left us to find exotic Asian
fruits such as bananas. My father wandered out of the store by accident and
ended up in a mosque. We eventually met up at a magazine display where the top
row advertised entirely different types of pullouts...
Allow me to introduce Bertha. She is the GPS navigational system my sister and I
purchased for my father on his birthday. Bertha's default voice sounds like a
mid-west farmer's daughter who is constantly choking on a potato. Fortunately,
Mary hastily re-programmed the voice to mimic a British lady who is constantly
choking on a prune. My parents swear by the directions Bertha supplies us. Due
to this blind trust, we will most certainly end up in a red-light district of my
father's secret choice before long...
Bertha led us to the U.S. border Tuesday morning. As I suspected we were pulled
over after my father proudly announced we had a variety of fresh food on board.
Fortunately, only my mother's eggs were confiscated and Mary’s sudoku puzzle
book at my request. I do not want anyone to become aware of the fact that my
wife can only count up to nine...
We toured Seattle that day and discovered three very important facts about the
city. The term "skid row" comes from the fact that logs were pushed down the
steep muddy streets to the waterfront. All freeway overpasses are tastefully
decorated in various layers of endangered foliage. The Space Needle looks like
the CN tower on an Atkins diet that went too far.
Seattle was basically built on mud. Raw sewage meant for the ocean, was carried
away in hollow wooden logs. However, when the tide came back in, the sewage
forced itself back up the logs into the crappers and created human-waste
geysers. Prostitutes controlled the "seamstress" industry in Seattle and donated
large amounts of money to the school systems. Strangely enough, no school in the
greater Seattle area is named after these ladies of the night...
We also toured the Boeing manufacturing plant, which coincidentally is the
largest building by volume in the world. It has to be to fit Boeing 747s 767s,
777s and soon to be the "Dreamliner" 787. They call it the "Dreamliner" because
there is a ½ inch more legroom between the rows of seats. Does anyone know what
Boeing has a fascination with the number 7 and why the Boeing 717 and 757 don’t
exist? (or do they?)
The next day took us southwest towards the coast. For those of you who know me
well, summertime = shorts. As we neared the open Pacific, the rest of the crew
donned themselves in ridiculous looking arctic attire. I stubbornly refused to
conform to such a humiliating fashion statement in the middle of summer. I
remain half-dressed with permanent goose bump configurations embedded in every
exposed part of my skin. The winds are constantly blowing at 50 km/hr here in
southwest Washington State. The temperature in the morning I write this
(Thursday, August 3, 2006) is around 7C with the wind-chill! CNN is reporting
about the searing heat wave that is gripping the rest of North America. If the
weather pattern we are enduring continues, we will be heading inland. Actually,
temperatures 100 km inland are over 25C already. The Pacific has the cooling
power of Mary's stare when I burp too loudly during dinner...
So the women did what they had to do... shop in gift shops that tend to focus on
the greatest tourist attraction Long Beach has to offer: wind. Yes folks, Long
Beach Washington is proud to boast the climate necessary to fly kites. Tourists
arrive from all over the U.S.A. to break wind during these sultry summer months.
My wife managed to spend $21.00 for STRING for our own kite that she hasn't
flown for five years. Yes folks, STRING for a kite. She claimed this STRING was
balanced and would enable her to fly the kite we own (and have not flown for
five years) more easily.
Meanwhile, my father and I braved the mighty wind and hiked on trails along the
coast. Nothing can be more exciting than watching the flash of a distant
lighthouse occur in daylight hours. Apparently it is quite a show at night.
I can never get over endless varieties of "food" one can find at an American
grocery store. It never ceases to amaze me when choices such as pork flavoured
yogurt or watermelon pop tarts grace the shelves. Even better is the 30 cans of
Milwaukee Ice for $10.99! That is just over 30 cents for a can a beer folks!
Mind you, the beer tastes like mineral water with the aroma of a stale college
dorm but it is still beer…
We found an oyster farm this afternoon and finally found out what they do with
all the shells. Why not build a pile of shells 30 feet high and have pathetic
tourists like us balk at it wishing we brought our cameras? I have never seen my
father so excited before. Imagine his disappointment when he found out the
interpretive centre was closed.
We built a fire tonight and huddled around it. Mary entertained herself in a
solo game of "chubby bunny." This is essentially where you stuff marshmallows in
your mouth one by one and try to say "chubby bunny" every time. Needless to say,
her cheeks inflated to the size of a football and oozing out of her mouth
eventually came the remnants of a massacred Stay Puff Marshmallow Man…
My father was very intrigued by his daughter-in-law's demonstration of "chubby
bunny" and was all of a sudden very interested in the younger generation's
social activities. Unfortunately, when he asked Mary to educate him further, he
soon found out that a "wet willie" was one of the most unpleasant experiences a
human being can endure. For those of you with your minds in the gutter, a "wet willie"
means inserting your armed finger (drenched with your own saliva) into the ear
of an unsuspecting recipient. Yes, this is what we do around campfires. We have
no shame...
Okay, today is Friday, August 4th. Our 6th wedding anniversary is tomorrow. Mary
gets to spend it once again with her IN-LAWS in a trailer! How romantic is that?
Once again, we had a steady 50 km/h wind blow us south to the coast of Oregon.
This wind was COLD! The temperature never went above 15C today except when the
highway veered inland. Canadians love to talk about weather all the time don't
they? The incredibly scenic drive we did today rivals the Cabot Trail on Cape
Breton Island in Nova Scotia. So tonight we have huddled in the trailer in the
middle of August with the FURNACE on. Our Alaskan adventure last year was warmer
that this!
Mary has discovered a new way in insulate herself in this frigid air. She wraps
herself in a cocoon every night before bed using FOUR or more blankets. That of
course leaves me with a measly sheet and teeth that chatter louder than a cement
drill. What I can’t understand is how four blankets can be warmer than three?
What the hell is the difference? Does she like the immense weight of four
blankets? Does the feeling of being crushed and suffocated equate a warmer body?
Plus, if she wanted me to roll over and help her warm up, I wouldn't be able to
get past the fortification she has built around herself? And how does she find
her way out of that mess every morning? Maybe she'll start programming the GPS!
Our campground here in southwest Oregon is cleaner than a fancy hotel. Mind
you... there comes a price. You can hand wash your own RV but only after you pay
the front desk $10.00? Huh? The bathrooms are spotless but you need to pay a
$5.00 deposit for a key to get in them? Huh? The campsites are all fresh asphalt
but if you make a mark on them with the trailer legs you'll be fined $150.00?
Huh? There is a Jacuzzi available but you have to pay $3.00 per person to use
it? What the #$%*?
Anyway, today's highlight was seeing hundreds of sea lions frolicking and
sunning themselves on rocks within view of the Pacific Coast Highway. That is
what travelling is all about folks! Tomorrow we invade California!
