September 4th
Bugger, we’re just a titch behind, huh? Here it goes.
We woke in a haze. The previous day had been long. We slept in later than normal and took our time getting ready. There was a lengthy drive before us and we were in no rush. We used the wifi to do whatever internet-y things we wished (I even had time to browse my tumblr, which is saying something). Finally, we hit the road. The drive was long. This is something I only know because Brandon told me. I fell asleep almost right after leaving and woke up shortly before arriving. It was glorious.
We stopped at a Costco outside of Toronto. Jesus, that was a crazy venture. Sure, the Clackamas Costco can get a bit crowded but it was nothing like this hell. If there was space, there was a person. I haven’t seen that dense of a crowd outside of a concert mosh pit. So many people, so few fucks given. So, with me and my crowd anxiety, this was not a good mix. I felt on the verge of a panic attack the entire time inside. So we bought slices of pizza and ate them out by the car. Pizza calms me down…. That’s pathetic.
We drove on and shortly reached Toronto. We could see the CN tower from the freeway (its 3X taller than the Seattle Space Needle, exactly. To the inch.) and we stopped by our motel (so much less dodgy than Chicago, and no stench like the Border) before going to explore the city. Exploring the city wasn’t exciting and mostly consisted of the search for alcohol. We walked around for a while. I was wearing my “fancy going-out” outfit, which includes “fancy going-out” heals. Turns out such heals are not ideal for walking around. My poor aching feet were ugly and blistered by the time we finally made it back to the car. We looked everywhere for a liquor store, or a LCBO. We found one, and it had closed at six and alas! The following day would be Labor Day and they would be closed. We drove back to the motel defeated but unwilling to pay $9 for one drink at a bar.
“No, no. It’s legal. Let’s just go to the bar, have a drink because we can,” I said.
“If there is one within walking distance of our motel,” Brandon said.
And there was! Sort of. Kelly’s Pub was a good walk away, but we trekked it in the rain and brutal wind. I was thrilled, but walking in my hopes were dashed quickly. There was a handful of 50-somethings and it felt like we were intruding because it was such a small place. Kelly came up “Can I take your order?”
“Can I have a Margarita?” I asked.
“Can’t do that.”
“How about a Pina Colada?” Brandon asked.
“Can’t do that either, sorry.”
“Can I have Baileys and coffee?” Brandon asked.
“I can do that. How about yourself?” Kelly looked at me.
“Uh, what can you do besides that?”
“We have beer.” Kelly said.
“All right then. I’ll have a beer.”
“What kind?”
“What’s your IPA?” I asked.
“IP what?” Kelly seemed confused, which confused me.
“Uhm. Indian Pale Ale. Like, uh, what’s the hoppiest one?” I asked.
“I don’t know.” Kelly shrugged.
“O.K. What do you have?”
“Bud Light, Bud Weiser, Coors, Heineken, Canadian.” She listed a few others, too.
“What do you drink?”
“Bud.”
“Canadian for me,” I said.
Over priced and dissatisfied we were once again thwarted in our attempts to legally drink in a bar. Sure there would be another just a bit up the way, we continued walking. “If we don’t find one on this block, let’s give up,” Brandon said.
“O.K.” I said. Three blocks later, we came across The Kingston Bar and Grille (despite no grilling taking place) Alas! We had found salvation, from the rain, from the wind, and from our sober state. Though it was desolate, with only a few lonely men drinking alone at the bar, we were thrilled. I sat and waited for the bar tender to tend. All I wanted was a margarita. One (maybe two) beautiful, delicious margarita.
“I.D.’s?” The man we would later come to know as Roy asked.
“Yep.”
We pulled out our I.D.’s and handed them over. He looked at them, confusion obvious.
“Oregon? Where is Oregon?” His accent was thick, but I couldn’t place its origin.
“The States,” I said.
“Where in the States?”
“On the west coast.”
Roy only stared and then took our I.D.’s under a light to find something wrong with them. He returned.
“All right. What’s your birthday?”
We told him, he shrugged and handed them back. “What will it be?”
“A margarita,” I said, smiling.
“Can’t make a margarita.”
I looked at Brandon and mouthed, “the fuck?”
“How about a white Russian?” Roy said.
Enter Collin.
“Roy! Roy, give me a shot of whiskey and a beer.” He was an older man. I’d say late sixties, maybe early seventies. He was rough and tired, evident by the wrinkles carving through his face.
“Collin, you still owe me from last night,” Roy said.
“C’mon Roy, don’t be like that.”
Roy was adamant, palm presented, ready for cash.
Collin blew a long breath from his chapped lips. “Fine, how much?”
“Thirty.”
“Thirty!” Collin seemed outraged, then calmed. “Well, that aint so bad. Here you go,” he said as he dug through his pockets.
Then Collin turned his attention to us. “Why hello there.”
“They’re from Oregon,” Roy said.
“Oregon! That’s a ways. Let me buy you a drink .”
“You really don’t have to,” I said.
“I know I don’t have to. I want to. If I didn’t want to, I wouldn’t.”
“O.K., if you’re sure.”
“Roy, get this girl and her friend a drink on me.”
Roy looked at us. ”White Russian?”
“Sounds good to me.”
Roy brought us our drinks and Collin then introduced himself. “You look just like my daughter. Well, when she was young. She’s grown now.” The way he said it worried me she might have died, or they had long since stopped speaking.
“Do you see her often?” I asked.
“Oh yes, every week.”
“Glad to hear that, Collin.”
“Anyways, looking at you makes me nostalgic. I’m also drunk, which doesn’t help.” He said, and then gasped. “My God girl! You drank that so fast!” I hadn’t really noticed I’d already drank it all, though there wasn’t much to begin with. “Roy! Get them each another. And make it a double!”
“Collin, it’s O.K.” I said.
“It’s not, no.” He forked over more money to Roy and Roy brought us more. “Anyways. I have a lot of money, and I want to spend it all before I die,” Collin said.”
“You don’t want to leave any?” I asked.
“No. It wont be spent how I want it to be spent. I like spending my money like this, buying things for people and making them happy, at least for a moment.”
“You made my day, Collin,” I said.
He smiled. “Thank you, Mary.”
This whole time Brandon seemed to be talking more to Roy so I can’t really bear witness to what was happening beside me.
“It’s not like I have unlimited money,” Collin said, “I’m not a multi-millionaire. I just have a couple million.” Oh, that’s all? “You are a fast drinker.” Collin pointed to my empty glass. “Another, Roy! Make it a triple!”
Dear Lord.
“I ought to be going. Good night Mary, Brandon.” He nodded.
“Good night Collin! Thank you so much.” We both thanked him profusely as he waved.
Exit Collin.
“He really is a millionaire,” Roy said. “Don’t feel too bad. Worked for the railroad or something. High up there. He’s very sick now, his son is taking him to a hospital a couple hours away tomorrow for treatment.”
Before leaving, Collin had told me that he had wanted to live to be 101 his whole life. I felt immense sadness knowing he probably wouldn’t make it.
Brandon excused himself for the restroom.
“Would you like a Malibu with orange juice?” Roy asked.”
“Sure.” He put one in front of me. It tasted so good, I drank it far too quickly. Without asking, he brought me another. “I shouldn’t,” I said. I was definitely feeling the alcohol. And by feeling it, I mean I was drunk. Very drunk.
“C’mon, Mary. I already poured it.”
“If you insist.”
Brandon returned. “Roy, that’s quite the test, putting the bathrooms at the bottom of the steepest steps… ever.” Roy laughed. “Oh my God, Mary. Another drink?” Brandon was shocked.
I smiled, which probably was the sloppiest smile. “This is my second. I drank the other very fast.”
“I’m not going to have to carry you back, am I?”
“No, I can walk. Wanna see?” I asked, about to get up.
“Maybe you should sit for a second.”
“O.K.” I finished my drink and looked around. I gave Roy $15 for both my drinks and Brandon put my backpack on my back for me. I looked and saw a man I hadn’t noticed before sitting in Collins old spot. “Hi there,” I said.
He looked startled. “Hi.”
“What’s your name?” I asked.
“Steven.”
“Well good night, Steven. I hope you have a great day tomorrow.”
What can I say? I like to make friends.
Only a block away I had to relieve my stomach of it’s immense amount of alcohol. I can say it’s the first time I’ve had to do that in public. I am not proud and I pity the owner of the car dealership that had to discover that in the morning. Afterwards, I felt fine and we continued walking what ended up being over two kilometers back to the motel. Halfway Brandon said, “Yeah, I have to pee and I can’t make it to the motel.” He walked into a nook of a different car dealership. I don’t feel too bad, as most car dealers are asshats.
As it were, we did the math and Collin spent about $80 on alcohol. I spent $20, including Kellys Canadian beer and Brandon spent $10. We slept very well that night, and surprisingly felt fine the next morning.
Thank you Collin, wherever you are. Thank you Roy, and thank you Cananda.
Enjoy every minute,
Mary.
Costco.
