Posted on November 22, 2014 under Storytelling with no comments yet

“Every day is a winding road” ( Cheryl Crow )

 

 

Will ye no’ come back again? 

Bonnie Charlie, traditional Scottish song by Carolina Oliphant (Lady Nairne)

 

It has happened to all of us.  We’re travelling in unfamiliar territory on a trip when we take a wrong turn and become hopelessly lost.  There was a time not that long ago that getting oneself out of a jam required a good nose for direction and an old fashioned map.  And even though most of us have technology in the palm of our hands, or own a car that has a built in GPS, there are still occasions when we take the road “less traveled” by mistake.  It can be frustrating and amusing, all at the same time.

Earlier this year, I flew to Florida with my son to watch a golf tournament in Orlando.  One of the rounds was cut short by severe weather in the area.  We went back to our hotel.  We had a rental car with no GPS.  I needed something at a store and, since I was the only one insured to drive, I struck out to find this business.  I had done a quick “MapQuest” check and discovered that my destination was a mere 8 minutes away, requiring only one exit to navigate.  Sounded pretty simple to me.

As I pulled out of the hotel parking lot, I was greeted by thunder, lightning and some of the hardest rain that I have seen in a long time.  My eyesight isn’t what it used to be and, without a co-pilot, I missed the one crucial turn and found myself out on the Interstate.  I won’t bore you with the details, including short-changing an unmanned toll station.  I even made it to the front gates of Disney.  Good thing Mickey wasn’t running the ticket booth or he might have gotten strangled.  Two hours later, empty handed and enormously frustrated, I returned to the hotel.

Neil, a friend of mine from Scotland, and two of his buddies (also Scots,) had decided to take a little road trip while in Kissimmee, just outside of Orlando.  Their spouses were off on a shopping trip and they thought that tracking down a “pint” would be more sporting than finding a 50% off sale.  Neil had rented a Lincoln Town Car several days earlier.  Off they went to the quaint town of Celebration, where they settled in to quaff some ale while watching a game of football from Scotland.  Doesn’t get much better than this.

They all agreed that one more bar stop was in order so they headed off to International Drive, a well-known street that they had frequently travelled together.  They took the wrong exit and after a half an hour, Billy declared that they were lost.  Another series of turns took them by a fire hall. “We passed that stationhouse 20 minutes ago”, chimed in Johnny.  “No, Johnny.  They all look the same around here”, was Neil’s retort.

Another half hour passed and they drove by a fire station again.  They were by this time in total agreement that this was the same building that they had seen twice before.

And before you knew it, they were approaching the ticket gate to Disney’s Epcot Centre.  They looked for a place to make a U-turn but there was nothing in sight.  Neil got out of the car to explain their predicament to the gate attendant.  He was stopped short when he heard the words, “Get back in that car.”  A few tense moments ensued, but finally they were allowed to pass through the main gates to find the exit out of Disney.

And then the fuel gauge light came on.

The trio pulled into the nearest gas station.  Billy went inside to prepay for the fuel.  Neil fiddled around and couldn’t locate the mechanism that opens the portal to the gas cap.  After looking in all the usual places and running out of patience, he turned the task over to Johnny, with similar results.  They exited the car to examine the hatch to the gas cap.  “We need a screwdriver” announced Johnny.   Neil recoiled in horror at the thought of going at a brand new Lincoln with a blunt instrument.  Billy returned from paying for the gas and the three brave lads attempted to release the gas cap using the car keys.

Just then, another vehicle pulled up.  The frustrated Scottish contingent pleaded for assistance or divine intervention.  They admitted their collective stupidity to the new arrival who, in one quick motion, opened the car door, hit a button which  was totally camouflaged and ”presto”, the mechanism opened up, exposing the gas cap.

Neil grabbed the nozzle from the pump and inserted it in the hole.  Nothing.  Zilch.  Nada.

“Feigh!” crossed all of their lips.  Neil stormed into the station to have a few words with the attendant. “We gave you $40. And there’s no petrol.”  “That was a quarter hour ago,” was the tart reply from the worker on duty.  “You only have a few minutes to start pumping, from the time you pay.”  Fearing the emergence of bagpipes from the trunk, the attendant quickly did a reset and finally the fuel tank was full.

Before leaving, Billy went back into the station, somewhat sheepishly.  “Can ye point me in the direction of Kissimmee?”

Posted on November 20, 2014 under Thursday Tidbits with one comment

The diet starts…. today

 

 

“The spirit is willing but the flesh is weak,” according to the gospel of Mark ( 14:38 ) . I easily fall into this category. The picture above reflects my total lack of willpower. It is the last dessert I will consume until Christmas. When you’re on vacation, the temptation to eat sweets is pretty powerful. The only good news is that I shared this enormous chocolate fudge sundae with Betty.

Some final observations about our trip to Florida. Americans know how to do client service and it’s not just an isolated event. They are in a ferociously competitive market so pricing and service is everything. I now have a better appreciation of the challenges facing the tourism industry in the Maritimes. Gas , food and lodging is very cheap in the U.S. The Americans must get quite a shock when they cross the border. Combine this with the lingering effects of 9/11 and you have a perfect storm for people trying to make a living in this industry.

I am reluctant to say this because I avoid controversy like stir fried tofu but I continue to be perplexed by the gun culture south of the border. We were eating in a nice restaurant and the hostess was chatting it up with us. Not sure how we got on the subject but she was incensed that she had received a ticket for having her handgun on the dash of her car while transporting her young daughter.  Sorry, but I just don’t get it.

Did you observe “world toilet day” yesterday? When I first heard about it, I thought it was a joke so I went looking to “get to the bottom of this.” Turns out that there is day with this name and it was instituted last year by the United Nations General Assembly to address sanitation in third world countries. This is no laughing matter. Good sanitation is one of the many things we take for granted.

I have a new retirement strategy…  besides lottery tickets. Just about every day of our vacation, there would be someone out on the beach with a metal detector and a sieve looking for coins and other priceless treasure. Some of these guys spend hours upon hours walking back and forth. Conceivably they could walk all the way to Louisiana. Think I’ll give it a hook next year. If I don’t come back, you’ll know that it worked.

I’m working on a few new stories. We have very good friends from Scotland that we see every year at the resort. Neil is quite the story teller and he regaled me with a tale of him and two buddies who went on a day trip to Orlando. They had a car rental. It didn’t have GPS nor did any of them have a particularly good sense of direction. Of course they got lost and ended up at the front gates of Disney. ( I did this myself last year and understand completely their consternation. ) It was when they went to fuel up the rental that things got crazy. They couldn’t find the mechanism that releases the gas cap. I’m still searching for a name but “Petrol Panic” might do the trick. Coming soon.

Have a great day.

P.S.  A few people have contacted me about my new book. These are people who want to come to the launch but will be out of town that day. ( Can’t imagine how something else could be more important! ). So if you simply can’t wait until December 4^th. ( 3^rd. in Port Hawkesbury ), you can pick up a copy at Brendan’s Fairway. You can track me down and I will sign them. Good Christmas present and reasonably priced at $20.

Posted on November 18, 2014 under Storytelling with one comment

For whom the bell tolls

 

 

All honeymoons eventually come to an end.  After a burst of euphoria, whether it involves getting elected to public office or getting hitched, the thrill abates and life settles into a predictable pattern.  Nowhere is this more evident than in the world of sports.  Teams or individuals who reach the pinnacle often suffer a letdown.  And in some highly publicized cases, the fall can be of Herculean proportions when it comes to light that the victory was ill won.

What memory would be more cherished than taking part in a road race in a place called Honeymoon Island on the Gulf of Mexico?

It was a pristine morning for running as the two MacDonald brothers readied themselves for the task at hand.  One would run the 5K while the other signed up for the 10K.  A third brother acted as chauffeur, coach and cheerleader.  Stoked for the event, the athletes and their handler slipped out of the resort at 6:00 a.m.

The previous evening they had eaten at a wonderful Italian restaurant, although they hardly needed to “carb load” for such short distances.

They crossed a causeway leading to the state park.  It would be closed to vehicular traffic until the conclusion of the race.

The early morning air had a nip to it … hardly what someone from a northern climate would call cold. The locals find these temperatures frigid and it is not uncommon to see runners donning toques and mittens.  The runners and their one man entourage, who was wielding a cow bell, took the long walk to the registration area and start/finish line.  Optimism was in the air.

They joined about a thousand other runners and quickly picked up their timing chips, bibs and other race paraphernalia.

At the appointed hour, the 10K race commenced followed a few minutes later by the 5K crew.  By any account it was a perfect day for running and, had the big guns been there, surely records would have fallen.  As it turned out, there was a record set that is not likely to be duplicated anytime soon.

The MacDonald boys are known as a competitive lot and it came as no surprise to their coach that they performed impressively.  He was watching at the finish line, and just by eyeballing the competition he figured that each of his brothers had probably won their divisions.  High fives ensued along with the mandatory post-race picture and some imaginary media interviews; the cow bell was now a microphone.   To the victors go the spoils.

Knowing that there would be a massive traffic jam with people trying to get off the Island, the triumvirate made a beeline for the exits, eschewing the awards ceremony.  Unfortunately, race officials had miscalculated finishing times and the wait to get across the causeway dragged on considerably.  A few people waiting in line were not happy to be detained and one became exceedingly enraged.  Only through the efforts of a race volunteer with the steely resolve of Henry Kissinger was peace maintained.

On the homeward trip, the chauffeur casually reminded his brothers, in a somewhat supercilious fashion, that he had completed the Boston Marathon twice.  Quite an accomplishment by many standards.

Later that day the race results were published. The younger brother had indeed won his division handily.  A casual glance at the 65 + category revealed a startling situation.  The elder MacDonald had won the 65+ female division and, upon close examination, had the fastest time in the male division.  You could just see the headlines in the paper: “Hardware for Hermaphrodite”.

A clerical “error” made when the younger MacDonald registered them both had put him in the wrong gender class.  All three men pondered the earlier statement about the athletic successes of the coach/chauffeur.  While completing Boston twice is commendable, it was hard to argue that winning both the male and female divisions in the same road race trumped these meager achievements.

A few days later, after consulting with race officials, the elder MacDonald travelled to a neighboring community to collect his spoils.

He walked into the Chamber of Commerce building in Dunedin wearing a kilt. He was given his medal for the female division.  A quick change into his golf attire and the male division medal adorned his neck.

Hard to imagine this honeymoon ending any time soon.