Ahhh... Another trip to Saskatoon, another round (or 5) of the Cow Game. Different rules. Same champion. Me. HOOO WAAHH! (This was actually supposed to resemble the Marine chant, but looking at it makes me think of a cute anthropomorphic chipmunk with a speech impediment doing a cheer. Right before it's devoured by hungry, hungry wolves. Or neighbourhood cats, I'm really not too picky.)
Ahem. Anyway, it was a fairly interesting trip. You may hear other versions of this story from other people, but rest assured, mine is the most accurate version of events. So I'm driving, right? And I have two gentlemen with me, both highly intelligent, dapper young men of the highest quality. Available for a limited time on e-Bay. Your choice of blond or brunette. I'm veering wildly... from the topic. Anyways, I ask these two fine young men to be the official navigatory bodies in the Stroniach Bland Slam, as it hurtles its way towards the sunny shores of Saskatoon. We're going north, on Highway 2. Next thing I know, I see a sign for Red Deer. (the following is a dramatization and may not have actually happened. Certain events have been made up. Okay, nothing in this conversation actually happened, other than us going too far north. Which is kind of funny, too.)
"Umm... Guys?" [sounds of two grown men having a spitting contest in the car]
"Guys?" [which has apparently escalated to a nipple twisting contest in the last two seconds]
"Isn't that a sign for Gasoline Alley?"
"Uhh." "Yeah." "Weren't you watching the road?"
"I asked you two. You have the map. You are in the navigator seat. You agreed to be the navigator."
"Hee hee hee...Hyuck... Pwoot." [sound of resumed spitting contest]
"Guys?"
"Guys?!?"
"sigggghhh...."
So we go through Red Deer, find a road that connects to Saskatoon. It's very pretty and scenic, with valleys and fields and trees. I'm enjoying myself immensely, thinking, "Well, it's a longer drive, but at least it's beautiful. Yup, this is pretty sweet."
Then we hit the tornado. I can now say that I have been driving through the prairies whilst a passenger comments "Does that look like a funnel cloud to you?", and have it not be a joke. At least the driving rains got all the dead insects off the windscreen.
Then, we almost ran out of gas. We sputtered into a gas station in Handel, which I think is in Saskatchewan. It was closed, and it was one of those co-op, pre-purchased gas bars anyway. So I lost it. I started screaming, and kicking the front fender of my Bland Slam, recklessly endangering the lives of my passengers, as this action has been conjectured to be a signal for the Bland Slam to explode in self-defense. Fortunately, a very nice farmer drove up (in a lovely car... Not a Stroniach) and let me know that there was an open, payable gas bar at the other end of town. I wept a little, I think. I hope he didn't notice. Long story short, we arrived in Saskatoon about 9 hours after leaving Calgary city limits. The rest of the weekend was kind of a blur, as I had a beer pushed into my eagerly grasping hands the minute I pulled in. I know I had fun, 'cause I have a new tattoo. Apparently, I "heart" boobs. I must have found it funny at the time... I don't know how it's going to go over at church.
posted by Siochain @ 3:50 PM
5 Comments
5 Comments:
Well, woman, I guess you're 50% of the way to Gonzo. The bats swooping down on the car were missing, and the pure weirdness, but the Fear was there. Remember- No mercy for these Swine! Let the hyenas have one nipple twisting party in the backseat, and you'll be in for more horror than you can imagine! A pack of Crazed Weasels in the back of the Bland Slam would pale in comparison to the overweening destruction of the virtue of every farmer's daughter who saw this morbid scene thrusting through some backwoods Canadian byway seeking destruction, or at least a place to stop for a leak! Be Strong! Stay Wierd! And remember - if you have any doubts about the right thing to do, put The Leaches on these Savages!
I just want the record to reflect that neither of the nipple-twisting, loogie-hawking, navigation-abandoning goons in the Stroniach was myself. As such I disavow all knowledge of Just What the Hell Happened in Saskatoon, and furthermore I can issue no pronouncement on the veracity of Cow Game result reports.
You were surprised by the lack of navigation skills in your passengers? Remember your darling brother is the one who arranged a raft trip down the Bow River and we had to remind him to... well.. paddle the raft and to well... steer the raft!!
Do I have to tell you about the infamous chair incident? Your brother is a huge sweetheart and I love him dearly, but he's a bit of a doofus :).
I hope the trip was fun even if the travelling was not :). TTYL
Actually, that was me that you were telling to paddle.
Close enough.
I will stand in defense of Furlak the navigator since he barely ever got us lost. Admittedly we were driving to Edmonton from Calgary, so there isn't much time for it to occur, but still. And he barely ever said "We need to turn there" as we went through intersections.
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