Derry Potter and the Edible "Poontang"

I'm a bit late in sending this off to you, but then again, given the server failure that happened with Travelblog, I'm fairly certain there was a reason in the universe that I couldn't quite muster up the necessary desire to type this blog up. It is in fact the last blog of my 13 month journey, and perhaps it has more to do with my unwillingness to admit that it has come to a close. But with all good things, they eventually give way to other chapters that hold new adventure and that creative spark we call life.

Farewell America, best of luck with "Healthcare and Shit"

We left Seattle that morning after saying good-bye to Dave and headed to the little town of Roslyn, Washington; it was one of Derry's pilgrimage spots, the home of TVs Northern Exposure. The city was worth a little look around, but it didn't take long before we'd seen everything. It was there, though, that Derry found a bit of misadventure inasmuch as he realized his credit card was missing. So it took him a bit of time to cancel it and get us moving on.

One of the disappointing things he found was that in using a credit card to make a call from a pay-phone, even a fairly local long distance call, can cost upwards of $4.00 a minute. It was cheaper calling from a cell phone directly to Canada from Australia than calling 100 miles up the road. Cursing corporate America and our own stupidity (I had made a similar, albeit shorter, call) we moved on to the Bavarian town of Leavenworth.

"Bavarian?" you ask with confusion on your brow. "Entschuldigung? Was das Holen?" Yes, you heard me correctly. Leavenworthians, as a revitalization project took it upon themselves to remake the town into a model Bavarian village. I was very excited and proceeded to ask some people questions in German. Oh was I chagrined to find out that it's all just a facade. The town didn't even have its own Brew Haus. I had to tell myself, well this was still America, and I shouldn't hold it against them too much. Disneyland, after all, did steal the idea for their castle from Bavaria's Neuschwanstein and Mickey Mouse isn't exactly running around yelling gleefully "Eh Kinder! Willkommen zum Disneyland!" So it shouldn't come as a surprise to me that the Bavarian villagers don't speak German. Ah well, English is a Germanic language, so I suppose that'll have to do.

We had some sausages and beer and then moved on up to the Great White North. But before arriving, Derry had to pick up something to give him a little pep. So he purchased one of the most foul tasting energy drinks anyone has yet conjured up. He asked me to help him drink some, and reluctantly I obliged him. It was terrible. So bad, in fact, that he had to employ an elaborate scheme by going into the store, getting a different container and pouring it over ice without my knowledge. I'll get you next time Gadget. Next TIIIME!

Repatriation: A Return to the True North, Strong and Free

We pulled across the Canadian border, into a country I could rightfully call home for the first time in more than 7 years. I had arrived.

Arriving in Vancouver I was surprised, but not overwhelmed to hear that my friend Scott had become a vegan. Alright then. It's not my cup of tea, but it seems through a twist of fate that it may be my cup of tea after all, whether I like it or not (This and other stories at 11:00). It was great to see him, and one of the exciting ports-of-call for this little road trip for me. You see, Scott and I go back a long time, helping each other pick up the pieces of broken hearts that had left us groping confusedly in the world after we'd been dumped by what we had mistaken believed at the time were "the ones." So we've become close friends, building each other back to where we can confidently strike out into the wilderness.

Scott was extraordinarily generous, owing to his knowledge of my limited funds. To the point where he basically told me to shut it and he knew I'd do the same for him, so if I pulled my wallet out again I'd be sorry. Scott, while a gentle fellow is not a man to be messed with, so I complied with both his logic and his threat.

It was a great time. We met up with Mel, a mutual friend of Scott's and mine, at the bar and had a few beers. It was my repatriation party, of sorts. Also, I found it incredibly convenient to have Scott living only a couple of blocks away from the pub. Mel even granted me the honour of playing in her wheelchair. It's complicated, but I guess I can see how you would get used to its motions. After the bar that night my ankle ached, and it was with reluctance that I returned to the use of crutches for the duration of the road trip. Don't get me wrong though, it didn't really slow me up. Well, only a little.

We spent the next day in Vancouver and had a great time checking out the Hemp Embassy at Derry's request, then heading down to a sweet martini bar called Honey (I think). After a couple of drinks we decided that it was probably too late for a trip to Granville Island, but just right for dinner and shopping.

Derry had a slight obsession with the fact that Scott hadn't, as yet, purchased any furniture. It was a fixation. We'd be talking about something completely unrelated to furnishings, when Derry would seem to drift away from the present and return with another idea of his. So when we walked past a furniture store, it was too much for him to resist, and we were pulled into it. My attention for furniture shopping is not nearly as rapt as souvenir shopping, especially when being helped by an adorable young lady with tight pants that flattered her sycophantically.

Harry Potter: The Party of the Decade

As we headed home, I was eager to attend the Harry Potter party in which Scott was eager to join me for reasons entirely unrelated to Harry Potter. I bet you could guess. Derry was having nothing to do with it. That's right, I'm not ashamed. I love the Harry Potter series and was excited for the debut of this, the final installment.

I, however, was undeterred and we went to Harry Potter sans Derry. It was good fun. The store, packed to capacity was good fun, and Scott went all out buying me a book (which I didn't even know you could actually purchase without an advanced booking). It was kind of funny, I was on crutches, Mel was in the wheelchair, and another of Scott's friends was on crutches. People looked at us with obvious amusement, so we called out "Make way, cripple train comin' through."

Scott also managed to get his hands on some of those wickedly bad Harry Potter Jelly Bellies flavoured like grass, vomit, earthworm, booger, etc. I don't know who had the job of trying them, because they really were horrible. (Who, I wonder, had to eat things like earthworm and booger for reference? is perhaps the more pressing question)

We had to try them though. They're much too tempting not to. I got what I guessed must be earthworm, because it didn't taste like anything else in my reckoning on the list of aggrieved substances. Mel, hilariously, got vomit. She gagged, spit it out, and sputtered, "Oh god, it even burns. Give me a tutti frutti!" I thought this the perfect moment to reek my revenge on an unsuspecting Derry. Scott and I took a few moments before heading back into the house to remove all of the non-disgusting specimens and then set the trap for the next morning where Derry would see, and I would offer, what appeared to be simple Jelly Bellys.

The next morning, the plan went perfectly as anticipated, but for one final, crucial aspect. The handful of vomitous flavours filled, squirted, and danced in his mouth and when he swallowed, Scott and I looked at him with anticipation in our hearts... He looked at us and said, simply, "What?"

I asked, with probing curiosity, "How were they?"

"Good." He said matter of factly. Scott and I were crestfallen. Either the chemical reaction had served to make his saliva immune to the fetid nature of the beans, or the combination of numerous beans had canceled out one another. To our shock and horror, perhaps, unknown to humanity a concoction of grass, sausage, vomit, earthworm and booger makes for a delightful little stew, savory and sumptuous. It is a thought that will, I suspect remain, gratefully, in the realm of theory. But we were no less disappointed.

Derry Potter had won again! Revenge is a dish best not served to the oblivious.

Derry Potter Discovers Poontang

Derry and I hit the road early that morning, hoping to get to Jasper before too late in the Day. We continued without stopping until we got hungry and needed gas, which worked out rather perfectly around Kamloops, the last major town before we made the long trek up to Jasper. We made a stop at the Costco, which is another of Derry's inexplicable obsessions. But it was cool because I got to introduce him to Poutine, that exquisite culinary creation coming from French Canada. He also had a Montreal smoked sandwich, which he had the nerve to say was just like corned beef. The fact that it is just like corned beef is really besides the point.

So moving on, we drove up to a little tiny hamlet where there was a billboard about UFO sightings and a strange lady who made these claims. It was not a particularly well made display, but interesting enough to capture our attention. It was about this point when Derry and I hopped back into the car and took off down the road.

He then asked me, what was that poontang stuff we had again? I burst out laughing so hard that it was several minutes before I could both keep the car on the road and answer his query as to what was so funny. I just kept imagining him asking the lady at the counter for some poontang, and that would start me laughing all over again. For most of you know that while poontang is edible, in a manner of speaking, it is rather unlike poutine inasmuch as it is generally not smothered in gravy, requires medical attention if it oozes with cheese, and certainly cannot be purchased regularly at Costco, even with a gold membership card.

When I was finally able to recover myself and explained it to Derry, he joined me in mirthful tears as we ran through all the various incantations of this misspoken phrase and the possible reactions to said incantation. Mirthfully, we (and by we I mean me) headed for home.

Next Up....Alberta Bound and Cowtown Found.

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