Friday the 13th Road Trip

I've been saving up since November 2010 for a little vacation, starting with a visit to my little girl in London and finishing with three days in the Poconos locked in the honeymoon suite with my beloved husband. Friday, January 13th seemed like an auspicious day to start out.
     About once every 7 years, I manage to convince Rodney to leave Prince Edward County. I like to say he's a bit like a Trillium (Ontario's provincial flower that takes about 7 years to recover from the blossom being picked). Not a big road trip fan, I guess. He insisted that we drive four hours straight through to London. But, he had to stop for a bathroom break and a fourth Tim Horton's coffee in Tillsonburg.
     Once back on the highway, he proceeded to not only pass a Woodstock Police Car doing a buck twenty, but he also did so while sipping his large two cream, one sugar. Living on the edge, Big Rod! Living on the edge.
     In London, we drove straight to my daughter's workplace for lunch. Spicy Tom Yum Soup and Cashew Tofu for me. Alex, who could not visit because she was working, told us it was a bad weekend for us to come because the London Police were investigating some biker related violence in the city. In her words, "Two strip bars and a "rub and tug" were set on fire." Welcome to the Forest City.
     When we arrived at Alex' apartment, I forgot that I hadn't told Rodney about her cat. He is not a cat lover - too much hair. As the first one through the door, I thought about hiding it on the balcony before he could see it. Just my luck, though, he was only two inches in the door when he noticed the cat litter in the closet.
     "Why is there a cat litter box in the closet?" he grimaced.
     "Oh, I forgot to tell you. She has a cat," I put on my brightest waitress smile. The one I use when the customer asks me if we have menus or if I know where the bathroom is. Ugh. I just give them my toothiest smile and say, "Nope. No menus. You just tell me what you feel like and I'll see if we've got it in the fridge back there." Or, "Nope. I don't know where the bathroom is. You'll have to use a pot in the basement just like the rest of us."
     My surprise came further into the apartment when I realized there was a bowl of dog food alongside the bowl of cat food. Turns out she has a dog, too!

Morgan Freeman - Rodney's favourite narrator

     We watched Shawshank Redemption in the afternoon. Rod says to me, "You know why this is such a good movie? 'Cos it has a narrator."
     I looked at him like he had suddenly grown another head. I said, "What the hell are you talking about? So, in your opinion, all a movie has to do to win an Oscar is hire a narrator?"
     "Morgan Freeman," he explained. "That motherfucker can talk to you about anything from penguins to popsicles and make it sound good." True enough.
     Yeah, Rod was full of hilarious, random comments (and early onset seniors moments) on our trip. Later that night, Alex was wearing her track pants while bending over her laundry basket, revealing her thong underwear. Appalled, her father felt the need to express his disapproval. "What's that hanging out? It's like knitting stuff!"
     "I think you mean 'yarn'," Alex replied with an exasperated sigh. She had already corrected him several times for referring to her friend as "Yen" when his name is actually "Juan". He also insists on changing "Adele" (who sings some of his favourite songs) with "Liddell" (as in, Chuck Liddell of UFC fame).
     Notwithstanding the strange language barrier, we enjoyed several games of Yahtzee and Connect Four with our favourite daughter.
     The next night, we were looking for another way to waste some time before heading south. At Yen's suggestion (I mean... "Juan's") we tried The Palasad for pizza and bowling. After our disaster at Big City Diner the night before*, Rod was concerned that the place looked a little seedy. But, we went in anyway and we were both glad we did. Really good, fresh salads followed by crispy, cheesy oven-fired pizza.

Canadian Pizza at The Palasad

     After dinner, we played 10-pin bowling. The Palasad plays a loop of tunes that reminded me of my days at the Tip of the Bay - the local bar where I spent 5 out of seven days a week during my early twenties. Naughty by Nature, Digital Underground and Young Emcee; all my favourite hip hop songs. There's something about music that tickles my brain and makes me so happy. Does that make me weird?
     Anyway, back to reality. We started a game of pool and I ordered the pan-fried brownie with pecans. I was all hopped up on endorphins from a couple of bowling strikes, some Human League and having my husband's undivided attention. Adding a little sugar would put me on a high that you just can't get legally. And, it was soooooo good. A hot, fudgy brownie topped with hot chocolate sauce and caramel pecans on vanilla ice cream. I took one bite and my face puckered up from the tooth ache. IT WAS AWESOME.
     Then, Rodney farted. I didn't hear it happen. I just walked around the pool table and walked into a wall of rotten broccoli and sour milk smell. I'm like, "Did you fart?" and he's like, "Yeah. I didn't think it would smell that bad." and I'm like, "Holy shit. You thought wrong." I had to use my pool cue to block the server from the contaminated side of the room.
     This is just a taste of the hilarity to come. We got on the road at 7 a.m. to head to the border and Rod never got road rage all the way to Lakeville, PA.

* Big City Diner has the potential to be good, but the night we were there, it was not. "Quebec cheese curds" turned out to be shredded mozzarella cheese and "Garlic-roasted beef dip" turned out to be a package of cold roast beef with a translucent slice of cheese.