Full bodied Canadian goodness...

So the other night Bryan, Paul, and I ventured North to America's playground -- Canada.

In my original thoughts a week earlier, I had envisioned a whole caravan of us going. Marty, Heufner, Jenny, Schwach, and even people who none of us had seen in forever like Kate Pulley. Of course, while most of the people I knew from high school have remained great friends in my memory, the truth is that most of them appear to give a rats ass about me when I'm home. It's alright, next time I'll call Bryan, Paul, Ed and Mike Sebaaly. We'll have a good time sans the rest (not including those with credible excuses).

But enough bitterness. For their own separate (and a few were credible) reasons, most declined the invitation. In the end, it was the three of us, and it was kind of fitting.

We had all had our own separate experiences, and for them I think we were enriched. Unlike the others who sit around at home 12 months of the year, Bryan, Paul and I all went away to school. We were used to the freedoms of sleeping until 3 without your parents nagging you to cut the grass, eating whatever you wanted, and playing video games until your eyes bled. In short, what separated us also tied us together.

We had tasted Independence, and on Thursday we did so again.

The drive was a bit awkward at first. I settled a bet about me having my license (Bryan won, correctly claiming that I had passed my driver's test before college), we saw Jon Koziol drive by, and had a good laugh about the enigma known only as Huefner -- and that was all before we turned off my street.

The problem was that after that first turn, we started to run out of things to talk about. I asked them a few questions, but the answers were similar. They had seemingly done little worthwhile to talk about while home for the summer.

I on the other hand was different.

For those of you who continue to read this, you probably know that I consider everything an adventure.

So I started with the stories. First was about the guy who came to fix the roof and caught me getting out of the shower.

"I came to fix the roof," he said.

"Well it's outside, isn't it?" I asked.

Then I told them about our Bat, then about our second Bat. Then I talked about how one night we climbed the scaffolding, and polar bear swim club, and meeting Jeremy Schaap. It was great beucase by the time I finished, Paul was hushing me up so we could cross the border.

And that was where the real fun began.

Paul was worried we were going to get stopped, so of course Bryan and I kept making remarks that would have gotten us searched had any one from the border patrol heard us. Paul meanwhile, was trying hard not to have a stroke -- I mean you could see his blood pressure rise as he sat there.

But as always, three white kids with money are never stopped from entering Canada. So we said thank you to the nice Canadian woman and began driving to the park and ride.

Now I always park behind the club when I go to Canada. It's free if you tell them you're going to the club, you don't need to validate, and you're walking distance from the casino. Of course, taking the park and ride was just as great. The scenery, which included a "budgetel -- the motel too cheap for a "ho," was worth the trip alone.

We parked, we rode, we entered fantasyland. The bus to the casino was chock full of old people. It kind of reminded me of Flordia, or water aerobics at the Helen Newman pool. Still, Paul, Bryan and I made our lewd remarks as if we were the only ones on the bus. Shiny objects also distracted us. I got caught up looking at the large television billboards, Paul was busy looking at passing cars, and Bryan was mesmorized by the glare coming off of the head of the guy infront of us.

Which must have affected his casino prowress.

We entered the casino, and I easily glided through security. Paul and Bryan, however, looking like professionals were detained. After some questioning, Paul and Ossama Bin Banach were let through, and we hit the floor.

I, as always, intended on playing the slots. They're colorful, make funny noises, and sometimes give you things in return. They remind me of TV, or even a shiny hooker.

Bryan and Paul had other ideas.

They were headed for the blackjack tables, and me with money to burn was along for the ride. I mean, if they could do it why couldn't I? Of course, the cheap tables were filled, so we loitered for about ten minutes until Bryan decided he would play some roulette.

So I joined him.

He bet $10, so I bet $10. He lost his first ten, and so did I. Then we split ways.

He was soon out after another two rounds, where as I suddenly found myself up $40. Paul came to join us, and since I had announced I was going to be paying for pizza with my winnings, he promptly bet everything he had on Red 33.

"I've got a feeling," he exclaimed.

And so if I've learned one thing from my Canadian trip it's this: don't trust Paul's "feelings." He lost it all, which was bad for Paul, but not so bad for us. Since I also lost my initial $10 bet, I decided it was time to uproot myself from the table and hit up the Pizza place.

But not before a free pop.

You see, the bartenders at the casino serve free non-alcoholic beverages, and far be it from me to pass up a free drink. So taking a leisurely stroll over to my favorite casino bar (it's actually the only one I've ever visited -- once with the Alpha Phi girls, the other time on Thursday), and asked for a coke. Paul joined me, but Bryan scoffed at us. His loss. It was the best coke I ever had.

"It tastes great. It tastes like free," Paul said.

We were about ready to leave when we had a kidwtsahs, or kid I didn't want to see after high school. In this case it was Dan Krebs. Now all night we had been wondering if we would have a kidwtsahs, and sure enough, here it was. Another thing we were wondering is if you can have a kidwtsahs without speaking to the party in question. I volunteered to go over and strike up a conversation if for no other reasons than to A) make Dan uncomfortable by the sheer fact that he had to now talk to me -- a near stranger, and B) to make this an offical kidwtsahs. Paul and Bryan told me it wasn't necessary beucase they'd count it anyway.

With that over, we left the casino and headed over to Boston Pizza, which is another story in itself, so I'll save it for tomrrow.

I leave you with a question: Are you ready for sports centre?