Any Airport, Anywhere

Musical Accompaniment: If I Had a Gun by Noel Gallagher

Even though I love travel, I fucking hate airports. And I mean I really fucking hate airports. In no other place do you have to weave through so many layers of security theatre, spend more money on basic amenities or deal with more disgusting people. Here is my take on the typical scene that everyone already knows.

First of all, there is no scenario possible in which you can show up at an appropriate time. Arrive early and the airport is a ghost town and you’re at your gate in ten minutes. You then have the pleasure of spending half your paycheck on a coffee and a muffin because you skipped breakfast to arrive early. You sit down and check your phone in hopes of finding something that will help kill the next two hours (which always turns into three or four as the flight attendant starts announcing one delay after another). This is the only time in your life that you won’t have any important work e-mails to answer, texts from friends or family or even any interesting Facebook posts to read (usually because it’s six in the morning and none of your friends are on their computers yet). You keep refreshing your feed until you’re phone dies (always exponentially faster than in any other environment). You search your bag for the charger only to realize it’s in your checked luggage or you forgot it at home. So now you’re off to the electronic store to spend the second half of your paycheck.

If, on the other hand, you arrive  at the airport a few minutes later than desired then suddenly everyone in the world is trying to fly that day. It also means that for no reason whatsoever security is at threat level YELLOW.  Every person in front of you is overweight, over dressed and has over packed. It takes a monumental and sweaty effort for them to get their jacket and shoes off and they always forget to remove their computers and sun screen (oh, the dreaded sun screen). By the time this is done they’ve all taken up at least ten bins.

Now it’s your turn. You quickly lay out your shit in a mere two bins and brace yourself for the poking and prodding that is inevitable because if 9/11 taught the world anything, it was to treat everyone in the world like a drug smuggling psychopath.

“You’ve been randomly selected for a swab test.” says the proud agent.

“Oh ya? What’s that?” You respond sarcastically.

“It’s a random test we do.”

“Hmm. Well, what for.”

“It’s for various chemicals.”

“Oh I see. Because lots of people come to the airport right after rolling around in a pile of cocaine and anthrax?”

“Sir, please cooperate.”

“I’m just asking. So why have I been chosen?”

“It’s just a random selection sir.”

“I see. So I’ve given you no cause for suspicion but you’re still gonna pull me aside? Does that seem fair to you?”

“I don’t make the rules sir.”

“Right, but you enforce them. Do you catch many bad guys doing this?”

The agent ignores your question.

“I’m serious. You must have good efficacy to put this test in place right? Lots of extra salaries fancy equipment; that’s a lot of tax dollars.”

“Sir, if you’d like to step aside I can call my supervisor and you can deal with her.”

“Alright fine,” you say as you hold out your hands for the swabbing, “keep fighting the good fight.”

Next you walk through the metal detector. You’ve removed your belt so your pants hang halfway down your ass and you’ve also removed your shoes so you slide awkwardly across the polished floor. Even still, the iron in your blood is slightly too high so the machine sounds it’s alarm. Another agent walks over and says that you’re required to submit to further screening. You get the option of a pat down or the full body scan. You’re a freedom fighter so you continue your stubborn ways. You point to the female agent and say “Can she be the one to pat me down?”

“The pat down has to be done by a person of the same sex” responds the agent.

“What if I’m gay?” You fire back

“Sir, you look like a man to me so I will have to be the one to pat you down.”

“I said gay…”

“Sir, if you came through here clean shaven with a dress on then maybe we could have a conversation but you have a beard and are wearing jeans so it will have to be a male agent.”

“I said gay! Do you not know the difference between gay and cross-dresser?”

He looks at you stoically.

“Ok fine, I’m a woman. I had surgery last year and take hormone supplements in order to grow facial hair.”

You realize this agent too is about to signal his supervisor and so you finally submit to the body scan. You raise your hands over your head like a criminal and hold your breath as the scanners spin around. Uh oh, you had a small piece of lint in your back pocket and now are required to be pat down anyway. “Oh yeah, that feels good right there” you say as the agent rubs his hand up the back of your leg.”

Now it’s time to retrieve your bag. This too has been pulled aside by an agent for further inspection. After a bit of rummaging she pulls out a small tube of toothpaste. “Sir, the maximum limit for gels and liquids is 100mL” says the agent.

“And…?” You inquire curiously because you were sure to buy the travel size tube at the grocery store.

“This bottle is 110mL.”

“You’re kidding me. So what?”

“We have to confiscate this sir.”

“That’s bullshit. I just bought that.”

“I’m sorry sir but you’re over the limit.”

“So just squeeze a little bit of it out.”

“We’re not permitted to do that sir. If you like you can go back out into the main lobby and empty it in that trash bin.”

“And then go through security again? Fuck that.”

“Sir, don’t use profanity.”

“Why not? It’s a free country. Isn’t it?”

“We do not tolerate verbal attacks on our agents.”

“I said ‘fuck that’ not ‘fuck you’.”

“Sir, please calm down.”

“Ok… So tell me, what is the problem with bringing a little extra toothpaste on a plane?”

“What do you think the problem could be?”

“Uhh, I guess you probably think it’s a bomb or something.”

“Sir! Did you just say bomb?”

“Ya… You set it up. What’s wrong with saying bomb? Come on.”

“Sir, if you want to fly today then you need to stop saying that right now.”

As she says this she throws your toothpaste in the garbage bin.

“Ok so let me get this straight. You think that’s a B-word, right? So now you’re going to throw it in the trash with all those other potential B-words that you’ve confiscated today? Isn’t that like the worst spot you could put it? How many thousands of people are going to come through here today?”

This suggestion will almost certainly get you arrested and so you quickly cut your losses and move on. “Keep fighting the good fight,” you say again as you grab your bag and head towards the kiosk to buy more toothpaste. You’ll probably have to take out a loan for this.

Once you’ve calmed down from this outrageous violation of personal liberty you become aware of the rest of your surroundings – most notable is the fact that everyone in the airport is sick. The perpetual sniffle sounds emanate from all around like crickets in the night.  You cautiously proceed to your gate while constantly dodging open mouth coughs. Once there, you take a seat in between the businessman, who will not hang up his phone until the plane is taking off, and the old man who will find a new and interesting way to gross you out every five seconds. The angle of the backrest is never quite right so you shift around restlessly as you listen to commentary on quarterly projections. And what’s this now? The old man has decided to start clipping his finger nails right there in his seat. You gawk in disbelief as shards of keratin fly out over the carpet and onto his pant legs. You turn around as if to ask the other row, “Is anyone else seeing this?” but are only hit by another open mouth cough upon doing so. You can already feel the pre-cold scratchy throat settling in and you mourn the inevitable loss of vitality for the first week of your trip.

You board the plane and are seated in the back row because you didn’t bother to pre-select your seat. A chair that doesn’t recline makes for a long trip, regardless of duration. The one benefit of being here is you get to chat up the flight attendants. You share your security woes and attempt to gain sympathy. “Well you know, I have to get finger printed every time I come to work” one of them says in rebuttal.

“Really? But that’s unscientific.”

“What do you mean. Everyone has a unique fingerprint.”

“That’s never been proven to be true. And there’s such a huge margin of error when they’re analyzed too.”

“Well, it makes me feel safe anyway.”

“And isn’t that the whole point right there?”

She smiles. “I suppose so. Now turn off your phone, we’re about to take off.”

“Umm, just out of curiosity, why do I have to turn my phone off?”

“Because you’re not allowed to have your phone on during the flight.”

“I know, but why?”

“Because it can interfere with the plane’s instruments.”

“Wow, that sounds dangerous.”

“Yes, it is.”

“So why don’t you confiscate our phones?”

“…What? We can’t do that.”

“So you just trust everyone not to indulge in this incredibly risky yet addicting behaviour?”

“But that’s your personal property; we can’t just take it.”

“I agree, but it seems like you probably should if a few mischievous texters can send us into a tailspin. Cell phones have been around for decades now. I feel like they would have figured this out by now.”

“No, it’s still a problem.”

“Then why do some higher end planes have onboard wi-fi. They encourage people to use their phones as an added selling feature.”

“But that’s wi-fi. There’s no interference with wi-fi.”

“And what if some sweet old lady doesn’t know how to turn off her network?”

“Well, everyone would have to put their phones on airplane mode.”

“Uh huh. And you would go through the whole plane checking everyone’s phones to make sure it is? Or would you just make an announcement to do that.” She hesitates. And you continue triumphantly. “You would totally just make an announcement, haha.”

“Ok, but this is an old plane. Maybe it hasn’t received those upgrades yet.”

“Uh huh. Or maybe this is all just made up.”

“It’s not made up.”

“Ok. It is made up though.”

“How would you even use your phone up here though?”

“What do you mean? You can get signal pretty much anywhere now.”

“But we’re thousands of feet in the air!”

“Right, so we’re closer to the satellites.”

She sighs. “Well, can’t people just go a few hours without checking facebook or talking on the phone?”

“I understand. So just say that.”


“It’s a private company. You can make whatever rules you want. Just say that people are jackasses and will be super annoying if you allow phones. So no phones.”

You begin to get nasty looks from the surrounding passengers so you finally drop the subject and attempt to find some sort of contorted position that will allow you to sleep. Head titled back? Nope; the angle is too sharp. Head rested on the tray table? Nope; you’re too tall for that. Turned on your side? Nope; your feet either hang out into the isle or you have to awkwardly face the person beside you. By the time the plane reaches its cruising altitude you are stuck looking around enviously at the other passengers who are sleeping like babies. That term becomes inappropriate though because the only other conscious beings in the plane are the screaming toddlers. Why any parents feel that a trip to China is beneficial at the age of six months is beyond me. An hour from now all the flight attendants will rush to one particular seat with paper towels because one of the babies exploded from anywhere between one to four orifices.  Five people then sneeze all around you. Somehow they’re still sleeping while they do this… which means no vampire arm cover.

Later that year the captain finally announces that the plane will begin it’s decent. Moments later the friendly flight attendant taps you on the shoulder and says, “Sir, you have to take your headphones out while we prepare to land.

“Really? I thought the big honkers weren’t allowed but the ear buds were fine?”

“Not on this flight. We don’t have an in-flight entertainment system.”


“So that means you can’t have any headphones in on this flight until we say so.”

She smiles and anticipates your next question. “Do you want to know why?”

You grin wider than ever. “Yes I do.”

“Ok…” You can see her perk up in preparation for an answer that she is finally confident in. “Because what if there is an emergency and we need you to pay attention?”

“Don’t you think that if the plane starts going down that I would know about it?”

“Well, wouldn’t you rather be safe than sorry?”

“No, I’d rather die listening to some tunes. It’ll keep me calm.” You decide sooner this time that you’re not going to win this battle either.

The plane lands and you start the two hour countdown between the time the seatbelt sign goes off and when the cabin door finally opens. An hour after that the queue finally moves enough to where you can start walking forward. As you progress along the isle you’ll cut in front of at least three people who are still in their seats – you’ll look away shamefully. You reach the exit and disembark stiff, dehydrated and ready to start your trip. Right after customs…




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DON’T Kill that Stupid Mother Fucker

Daryush Valizadeh you are an asshole. Your ideas are ass backwards and you assume that you can assimilate other asshole assailants to your asinine absurdities. No, a desperate late attempt to assuage your outraged Earthians by slapping a satire label on your blog post and cancelling your assemblies does nothing to salvage you’re shitty existence. You are alone in the Universe. You will never again get a job and no woman or man will ever again touch your penis. You have no friends and the entire planet now hates you. Furthermore, you have only added fuel to the rampant flame that is Love and Equality, with Feminism at the forefront of it all. You are on the loosing side of history and in 20 years you will be a laughable speed bump on the fucking super highway of progress.

With all that being said, and with absolute certainty as to how terrible of a person “Roosh” is, he does not deserve to be threatened or faced with physical violence. I hope that people send him mail and tell him online and to his face what a jackass he is and how alone he is. And I hope that we all use this episode as an excuse to push harder for an enlightened society free of all forms of violence. But I also desperately hope that people will not sink to his level and lash out with physicality. This will do nothing to advance righteous movements and in fact, will only serve to degrade the conversation. If this man is injured then he becomes a victim. Do not give him that luxury. Do not give anyone a reason to sympathize with him. He should spend the rest of his days alone in his mother’s basement regretting his misogynistic ramblings. I might even go a step further with my plea. How about letting him assemble his pathetic group of like-minded men in all major cities so that they can no longer hide in the shadows? I want to know who thinks this way so that I can avoid them at all times in the future; so that all employers can turn them away in the future; and so that no person ever has to accidentally indulge them in a romantic or somewhat friendly way. Go ahead, let them write blogs, rally together, put bumper stickers on their mom’s cars – at least that way everyone who actually lives in the 21st century can avoid them like the puss-filled sack of excrement that they really are.

There is nothing masculine about subjugating women. If your identity  is threatened by a liberated and powerful woman or if your self control is tested by a tank top then you are an under-developed, unenlightened and lonely, desperate swamp creature. You do not deserve to be called a man because a real man doesn’t push someone else down to stay afloat. A real man knows that a rising tide raises all ships.

Fuck you in the neck Daryush Validadeh. I hope you live a long, healthy and lonely life in your mom’s basement. I hope that you receive passionate hate mail from thousands of people. I hope that all the major cities you campaigned organize rallies of Love and equality and dedicate them to you. I hope that all good people in this world cease all threats towards you and instead give $20 to their local women’s shelter. Be better than this ass hole (which isn’t hard to do). Violence never justifies further violence. A headline about a pro-rape advocate being murdered simply knocks humanity down more steps. Let’s be better than that. Everybody Love Everybody.

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Equal But Not Fair…

People who read my last post on my Libertarianism might be surprised to hear that I’m ecstatic with Justin Trudeau’s early actions. I even sent him an email the other day to tell him (in slightly more formal speech) that he’s fucking nailing it! First of all, he’s basically Obama 2.0 in terms of his demeanor and public speaking ability. He’s charismatic, ostensibly honest and a great face for Canada. In terms of his early movements he’s nothing but net so far. Starting the process of ending overseas killing and the ridiculous prohibition on marijuana, engaging with the public both in common spaces and online and pushing for equality in many different sects are all well in line with both my personal morality and my political beliefs.

Most recently, Trudeau came through on his promise to elect a gender balanced cabinet. When asked by a reporter why he did this his mic drop response “Because it’s 2015” was brilliant. I am so happy to be alive and vibrant during this historical breakthrough in our government.

…But then a thought occurred to me. A little voice in my head started saying some unpopular things. I tried to tell it to shut up for a while but then I think I started to make sense of it. The question that was eating at me was; If a gender parameter (or race or age or religious affiliation) is set ahead of time then isn’t it likely that a qualified person will be left off in the name of equality?

Suppose for a moment that Trudeau is building a 100 person cabinet (I could actually take a second to look into how big his new cabinet is but I’m too lazy and 100 is an easy number to work with). He has now decided on 50 women and 49 men. To fulfill his promise he HAS to elect another man, even if there are 4 or 5 women who are better suited to the job. How is that not sexism?

I’ll try to answer my own question by first assuming that my hypothetical scenario, although proposed with the best of intentions, was probably actually the opposite situation in real life. We still live in a patriarchal society that has granted many men many more opportunities over time for reasons that are entirely unfair. The playing field, although improving, is not yet level and therefor an equal and potentially flawed parameter may be a necessary plan at this moment in time.

Ultimately, I wish the Liberals expressed their desire for gender equality in their cabinet and did everything in their power to remove innate gender biases from their decision making process (ex. nameless/gender free resumes for starters). Then they could have fully disclosed to the public the reasons for electing each individual and why that person was better suited for the job than the other few people that were being considered in the final stages. This way I’m certain that the gender ratio would still have been extremely close (maybe 57/43 or something like that) but everyone also would have gotten a fair chance. This would have been the Libertarian approach.

Is unequal but fair better than equal but unfair? I honestly, don’t know. This is just what the voice in my head ponders. 57/43 certainly isn’t as sexy on the global scene. I wouldn’t be able to backpack around the world and brag about our almost equal cabinet. I’m very curious what other people think on this. This certainly isn’t an original thought as I’ve already seen an article saying something similar. Just another drop in the bucket for the marketplace of ideas.

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Why I’m a Libertarian

I thought that with the upcoming Federal elections that it would be a good exercise to put down my political philosophies in writing. I’ve found that my peers naturally assume that I’m Liberal. I am flattered by this because they always say it as a reflection of my social values (equality, anti-war, anti-greed, etc) however, I do not subscribe to the Liberal platform: I am a Libertarian. This is neither a popular nor a well understood political position.

I haven’t considered myself to be a Libertarian for long but I also haven’t thought about politics for very long. In high school we used to listen to each candidate’s 2 minute pitch over the PA system and then decide who, given the opportunity, we would vote for. At the time I would either just go with the Green Party because I thought it was cool to support the little guy or I would settle on the Liberals because my mom was a teacher and I knew that I was supposed to hate the Conservatives. Then when I got into University I thought even less about politics. I was too busy thinking about God, girls and getting the fuck out of there. I’m happy to report that now that I’m an atheist, a ladies man and free from the shackles of University that I have some interest in what sort of system is at the helm of the nation that I love.

I now want to make a list of the main reasons that I would vote Libertarian (no candidate in my area unfortunately). These reasons will be mostly broad stroke philosophical points rather than case specific practical points. I have heard some interesting arguments about how a Libertarian system would handle some popular services and contentious issues but I am not the person to make those cases. I would suggest David Boaz’s book The Libertarian Mind for anyone who is interested in learning more or tearing these ideas to shreds. So here we go…

  1. I believe in freedom. Not some misguided “it’s us versus the terrorists” kind of freedom but rather the kind of freedom that says I know what’s best for myself and even if I don’t, let me be stupid. In a truly free society civilians should be able to do whatever they want, ingest whatever they want, say and think whatever they want just so long as they do not cause harm to other free civilians.
  2. I believe in small government. There are way too many moving parts and the salaries of politicians are insane! Even if you like what the current government is doing, don’t give them too much power.
  3. I’m socially Liberal and financially ConservativeThough I consider Libertarianism to be off the political spectrum entirely, it does blend important features of both poles. That being said, both spectrums seem to be fucking up what they’re supposed to be good at. The Conservatives keep running insane deficits and the NDP (Alberta’s provincial leaders) just banned menthol cigarettes. What the fuck?
  4. I believe that people are good and that we all have the power to help one another. I consider myself to be a generous person and more importantly, I am unexceptional. I know there are people who are greedy and that’s ok. Everyone has the right to hoard their valuables or turn a blind eye but I think that there are enough people like me (And most of the people who will cast the winning votes for a Left Wing government in a few weeks) who want to see the masses healthy and happy. I just don’t think we need government force to achieve this goal. Which leads me to…
  5. I don’t want to rely on government force to do anything that I wouldn’t use force for myself. I would use force to stop violence but I would not use force to build a new park. Pretend for a minute that I stop paying taxes. Maybe I don’t like that 11% goes to paying off interest on our government’s own debt. Maybe I don’t like that 9% goes to military, thus making me actively support killing people overseas. Maybe I just flat out don’t feel like it this year. So what would happen? First I would get a notice in the mail. And then probably a few more. Then I would probably get a nasty phone call. Eventually, a police officer (with a gun) would show up at my home and take me to jail. So just keep in mind that anything the government does (even really cool and fun stuff!) is done with scary force. So again, I want force to be used to prevent violence, not to issue University grants.
  6. I believe it is disrespectful to hold other people to different standards than I hold myself. I am a man with average intelligence, average income and exceptionally good looks. This certainly affords me some advantages in life. However, there are innumerable people in this country who are much more intelligent, athletic, wealthy, innovative, crafty, artistic, energetic etc, etc, etc. Some people obtain these things through hard work and others are simply born into these various privileges. People are not dealt equal hands and therefor the only fair solution is to allow everyone equal opportunities. It is no more justified to take money from a law-abiding wealthy person than it would be to dampen anyone else’s forms of privilege. Instead, why not learn to play the hand you are dealt? And this certainly includes asking for help. I constantly hear from the 99% (of which I am included) that they don’t have enough money, that they’re in debt and that life is just generally not fair. However, when I examine some of their lives I notice that they spend more money than they make and they feel entitled to jobs that aren’t in demand. Since I flew a very loving coup I have only lived in extremely humble environments. First, I rented a glorified closet for $250/month in a student house with 8 other people in it. During this time I switched from working part time in a shoe store, painting houses and picking berries. Then, when I moved to Calgary I shifted from one studio apartment to another. I have never owned a TV, I have only once owned a used car (which I paid for in cash), I don’t have a mortgage and I don’t spend the hundreds of dollars at the club that masses of people seem to do so easily every weekend. I live modestly and I am ecstatic to do so. I have so much more than I need and that allows me to help people that have less for legitimate reasons and not dumb shit, lazy ass, greedy, stupid FUCKING REASONS! If I can live this way and be happy and healthy then anyone of modest privileges can do the same. And what about those who were dealt the 7-2 hand? Let’s help them. Please, let’s help. And we don’t need guns to do it. You 99% folks are Fucking Billionaires compared to huge populations throughout the world and some places in Canada. Put the damn shoe on the other foot and kick them some jingle or volunteer your time where you can. You may not ever have that dick lengthening Lexus but you can buy Corn Flakes and that’s pretty fucking cool!
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A Guy Walks into a Hypersensitive Bar

A guy walks into a bar…

Why a guy? Why not a women? That’s sexist

Ok, a women walks into a bar…

You know, a lot of people have issues with alcoholism. You shouldn’t be so casual about telling bar jokes.

Ok, a women walks into a coffee house…

Is this a fair trade coffee house? You know, there is a lot of abuse in the coffee industry. You shouldn’t support corporations that exploit foreign farmers for our privileged preferences.

Ok, a women walks into a plain room for some reason.

Ya? And what’s funny about that?

She’s of a certain religion that I shall make a political comment on?

Nope. Offensive.

She’s of a certain race that I shall ironically comment on?

Nope. Racist.

She’s of a fringe sexual orientation that I support but shall use as a subject for comedic purposes?

Nope. Predjudice.

Ok, this person is the total average of every human being that ever was or ever will be. He/she does not show any qualities that would bias age, gender, race, ideology, sexual orientation, physical ability or even a generational timeframe.

And… what does this person do?

Maybe He/she…ummm…farts?… That is sometimes funny…right?….pleeeeease!….

What!? So you think that people suffering from G.I. distress are something to be made fun of? You have no right to take that stance. Millions of people suffer from legitimate medical issues that cause them to “have flatulence,” which is the correct term. “Fart” is slang and offensive.

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6 Degrees of Deliberation

I think a person shows their true colours when it comes time to hold the door for someone. You’re in a public place, you open a door, let your arm straighten as you grab hold of the edge and give a little shoulder check to see how close your next pursuer is. Personally, I’m about a 5 stepper. That cut off point, however, is anything but black and white. Today, for instance, I had a guy in the 6-7 step range. I did the full arm extension, clear check back and even a split second hesitation dance before deciding that I had better places to be. I didn’t dare look back after letting the door swing shut and I obviously felt at least enough shame to write this.

I have long since accepted that we don’t live in a world with moral absolutes. But I do wish that door holding was a little more like golf. When a golfer is posed with a short tap in putt he will look to his playing partner for the go ahead to finish out. I think the onus is on the 5+ step follower to acknowledge that no corridor is a soup kitchen and that the door holder gets enough brownie points for at least considering waiting. The follower should give a little nonchalant wave and a “just go…”

I think the main things to consider in a grey territory door holding stand off are the following:

1) Is this a potential mate?

2) How bad do I have to pee right now?

3) Will I ever see this person again?

4) What is my recent good deed to selfish behavior ratio?

5) Did we reach an agreement with our eyes?

6) What Would Jesus Do?



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Fresh Beer or a Couple Cups a Coffee

I’ve always had either a hate on or hard on for waitresses. There’s something about their black uniforms and forced flirtations but also something about their mosquito akin habits that makes me tick. This week I am King of the Road and thus, have had a lot of interesting servers.

This one gal, whom I would have married in an instant had she asked, waited on me for 2 nights in Regina. She had the sweetest way of periodically coming up and asking “Getcha a fresh beer” while flashing a cute smile. There’s something about the word pairing of Fresh Beer that just feels so nice in my mouth. Don’t try to say it 5 times fast or anything like that but rather just give it one, smooth and audible “Fresh Beer” with a little bit of inflexion at the end to signify a question. To me it sounds like some Englished up pronunciation of a small town in New Brunswick or something. Town of Freschbier, population 5,200.

Another waitress I had for 2 mornings in Regina was like a gnat at a barbeque. She had this incredibly irritating way of asking me the same question, twice in a row, on multiple occasions.

“And how is everything today?”

“Good thanks”

“Ya , everything’s good?”

And then 5 minutes later…

“How’s everything over here?”


“Ya, it’s fine?”

By the third time I wanted to leap up out of my seat, smash my coffee mug on the floor and yell “ON SECOND THOUGHT THIS FOOD IS FUCKING TERRIBLE! NOW RUN FOR THE HILLS WHILE I BURN THIS MOTHER DOWN!!!”

I also had a women for lunch and a man for dinner in Winnipeg that I felt like giving the calm, confident psychological test to. This involves me looking up with a James Bond like demeanor, make supreme but gentle eye contact and watch them squirm with anxiety. Words are fumbled, forks are dropped, it’s all good fun when you’re eating alone.

The day before I left for Saskatoon I stumbled upon another combination of words with a tasty texture but that also made me giggle like an idiot in front of my disgruntled diner waitress. A couple cups a coffee. Say that one 5 times fast for sure.

A final bit of word play that I will leave on involves the pondering of why the stress is on the n in the word envelope but on the v in the word enveloped? Shouldn’t it either be enVELope or EN-veloped?

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