Velvet

102617
I was half awake when I heard Heather puttering around.  I cracked open an eye and saw she was dressed and ready to head out the door.
“Where you going?” I moaned sleepily.
“To get us coffees,” she said, like an angel.  
“Do you remember the Starbucks we saw last night near the 7-11?” I asked.  
“Yep,” she replied, and off she went.
It was 11am and I could have easily laid in bed for several more hours but I felt it prudent to get up and about and try to get in step with time on this side of the planet.  I was showered, dressed, and smiling by the time she got back with her cups of brown goodness.
We left the hotel around 12:30 and walked to the Star Ferry terminal.  For just fifty cents each we rode the ferry across the picturesque harbour, once again marvelling at the astounding array of skyscrapers on both sides of the water.
On the other side we traversed the labyrinth of raised walkways until we finally found the HSBC Building, one of the stars of last night’s light show.  When the HSBC Building was built it was the most expensive ever, construction costs for the architectural wonder soared to a billion dollars.  We went inside and rode the angled escalators up the the first level.  Underneath us was all glass, above us air.  For such an expensive project they sure sacrificed a lot of floor space to make way for their extremely open concept.  Much of the building is basically hollow.
We searched for an antique poster shop Heather had read about, discovered it had moved to online-only and decided to make for Victoria Peak, the pinnacle of the mountain that lines the west side of Hong Kong.  We rode the funicular up (the oldest funicular in Asia, it started in 1888), which was a gravity-defying G-force blast and spent the afternoon enjoying the astounding (yet unbelievably smoggy) view.  
We explored the complex up there (we had paid extra for the Sky Terrace 428, which gave us access to the open-air top floor of the angular concrete complex, the highest elevation 360 degree views of the city, which wasn’t really worth it) and after some humming and hawing decided on eating dinner at BubbaGumps, just one floor below the rooftop terrace.  It was my first time experiencing the franchise, which I’ll rate just a millistep above the Hard Rock Cafe for food, which isn’t a great compliment, but man, the view from our window seat was delicious.
We lingered over an extra beer until it got dark so we could enjoy the night view as well and then we got in the prodigious line to ride the funicular back down.  I’m sure it would have been quicker to walk down the mountain like several people do but I’m glad we didn’t - my legs and feet were already feeling the pressures of the day.
We arrived back down at the bottom just as the nightly laser/light show was going off.  It’s so not a thing that we almost didn’t notice that it was even happening, although to be fair that’s mainly because the lit-up buildings are so impressive on their own.  The lasers add but a smidgen to the already sense-exploding skyline.  
Mostly ignoring the lasers we meandered in the direction of the ferry and stopped by a wine-tasting expo on the waterfront.  Turns out there was an admission charge so we didn’t go in, which is too bad: when we got back to the room later I noticed that the flyers we had been given when we purchased our tickets for the funicular were in fact free passes to the wine fest with four free drinks included.  Oops.  Instead I merely posed with a giant great white shark statue and we moved on, boarding the ferry to take us back across the harbour.
Finally we completed the slow plod back to our hotel and gave our gams a much-needed rest.  Along the way I toyed with the idea of a foot massage/reflexology session but was too tired to even stop for one.  It’s not like I didn’t have the opportunity; there are probably more foot massage places than restaurants in our area, and there are a lot of restaurants.  Regardless, it wasn’t yet 10pm when we made it back to the room and flopped into our rock-hard beds for the night.
All in the name of beating the jet lag.

I haven't posted my travel logs in a long time.  In honour of our good friend Bradm (who enjoyed my travel logs and loved it when this board was more active) I'm going to start posting them again.  Though I don't have anything solid on the horizon right now I did just get back from China, so here goes:
102317
I think this might be my record for most miles travelled versus least time prepping.  Getting randomly yanked off the street and thrown into an airplane would have been the only way I could have been any less prepared as I was when we left Ottawa for China this morning.  When I woke up at 7am I hadn’t even started packing yet, and our curfew for leaving the house to take the cat to the sitters was 9:30.  (Heather’s mom again; she seems to be getting slightly less annoyed by the chore every time).  
Frankly I hadn’t given the trip hardly a thought.  Leading up to today I had been busy getting a proposal together for a new book idea which completely distracted me from any thoughts of vacation.  After plugging away for the last week or so I had finished my rough draft at midnight last night and gone straight to bed.  
(This all completely falls in with the fact that I booked the trip to China with hardly a thought as well.  A while back I saw a post on facebook advertising an Air China seat sale to Hong Kong priced at just $501 per person, return from Montreal.  I told Heather about it, we shrugged and booked it.  How could we not?  Imagine how I felt when a few weeks later I saw another post advertising the same flights at just $400, these ones time departing from Ottawa!  Can’t win them all.)
Of course I got it together and packed with time to spare.  We dropped the cat off and made sure he was happy before circling the car around to the bus station where I left Heather and all of our luggage to stand in line for the Montreal bus.  I drove home, pounded a quick tall-boy and power-walked back to the Greyhound station, joining Heather in the Montreal line in thirty minutes flat.
And here we are sitting on the bus.  I’ve gone over the book proposal for a quick proof-read and will send it in from the airport.  Then maybe I can start to relax and think about Honk Kong.
Though I suspect I’ll just head straight to the nearest airport lounge and think about ordering a few drinks.
 

102517
Kind of lost a day there due to time change.  Hong Kong is twelve hours ahead of Ottawa.  Makes me wonder: if I brought my cat with me on the plane would he still be nocturnal?
We arrived in Hong Kong at 10:30 last night.  By 11pm we were standing in line at the lost luggage service, by midnight we were on the express train into the city.  The train was super-modern and extremely efficient/easy to use.  So was the subway system we transferred to - easy-peasy.
Walked to our hotel (an easy task given that we were both without luggage), again fairly easy to find and checked in.  I walked to the nearest 7-11 for some beers and snacks.  Okay, I actually went to buy a bottle of water but when I saw all that beer in the fridge I forgot to buy the water so I had to go back.  When I went back I bought more beer (for Heather this time) and darn-near forgot to buy the water again.  We didn’t get to sleep until about 3:30am, which is a little strange after a twenty-six-hour travel day.  I was shocked when we woke up and checked the clock; it was 1:30pm.  I know to me that’s 1:30am, but I haven’t slept that late in a long time.
We got up, retrieved our luggage that had been dropped off at the front desk, and got out of there for a walkabout and to look for a place to eat.  Heather was starved, I wasn’t hungry at all.  After looking at about a thousand menus (restaurants are absolutely everywhere in our area) we settled on a semi-fancy place.  Heather got dumplings and noodles with pork while i got the vermicelli with shredded spicy beef.  For some reason my appetite left me shortly after I ordered but I ate probably half my meal.  The highlight of lunch was when Heather bit into her first dumpling and hot liquid squirted out of it and shot straight up her nose.
After lunch we went for coffees around the corner and killed time until it was time to go to the waterfront.  We aimed for the Avenue Of Stars, the Asian version of Hollywood’s Walk Of Fame but were shut out as the area is being renovated.  No biggie, but I was looking forward to seeing the Bruce Lee statue.  Regardless, we found ourselves in the right place for the nightly laser show.
Every night at 8pm Honk Kong hosts the world’s largest (or was it Asia’s largest?) permanent sound and light show at the harbour.  We found a good spot and stared in quiet awe at the astounding skyline while we waited for the show to start.  
Aside from the stunning architecture of the countless buildings lining both sides of the harbour, at night many of the structures become canvases for giant light shows.  I had only seen this once before, at a hotel we stayed at in Miami, but this was redonkulous.  At least a dozen buildings were constantly flashing and pulsating, and it looked just awesome.  So awesome, in fact, that the laser/light show itself was decidedly underwhelming in comparison.  Aside from the sheer logistics of co-ordinating the lasers and the individual building lights to sync up (perfectly) with the music it was really not so impressive.  They need to get CK5 out here for a week or two to design some serious visuals but hey, it was better than nothing.
The show ended at 8:30 and we idled up Nathan Road past Jordon Road to the night market (after stopping at 7-11 for a couple of traveller beers - drinking in the street is so civilized; I’m surprised I never see anyone but me doing it).  The night market was about as interesting as the light show; that is, better than not going but really, it was just a bunch of Made In China crap.
(I got a kick out of the Star Wars Lego knock-offs though: Star Wart and Star Plan.)
By then my appetite was back to jumping up and down so we searched for a restaurant and ultimately settled on a Thai place where I devoured an order of garlic bread and got halfway through a plate of chicken Pad Thai before mysteriously losing my appetite once again.  
After dinner we decided to call it a day and went back to the hotel and went to bed, though neither of us could sleep.  I haven’t laid awake trying to fall asleep in years but I was awake until at least 5:30am.  
It’s hard to fight jet lag.
 

102517
Kind of lost a day there due to time change.  Hong Kong is twelve hours ahead of Ottawa.  Makes me wonder: if I brought my cat with me on the plane would he still be nocturnal?
We arrived in Hong Kong at 10:30 last night.  By 11pm we were standing in line at the lost luggage service, by midnight we were on the express train into the city.  The train was super-modern and extremely efficient/easy to use.  So was the subway system we transferred to - easy-peasy.
Walked to our hotel (an easy task given that we were both without luggage), again fairly easy to find and checked in.  I walked to the nearest 7-11 for some beers and snacks.  Okay, I actually went to buy a bottle of water but when I saw all that beer in the fridge I forgot to buy the water so I had to go back.  When I went back I bought more beer (for Heather this time) and darn-near forgot to buy the water again.  We didn’t get to sleep until about 3:30am, which is a little strange after a twenty-six-hour travel day.  I was shocked when we woke up and checked the clock; it was 1:30pm.  I know to me that’s 1:30am, but I haven’t slept that late in a long time.
We got up, retrieved our luggage that had been dropped off at the front desk, and got out of there for a walkabout and to look for a place to eat.  Heather was starved, I wasn’t hungry at all.  After looking at about a thousand menus (restaurants are absolutely everywhere in our area) we settled on a semi-fancy place.  Heather got dumplings and noodles with pork while i got the vermicelli with shredded spicy beef.  For some reason my appetite left me shortly after I ordered but I ate probably half my meal.  The highlight of lunch was when Heather bit into her first dumpling and hot liquid squirted out of it and shot straight up her nose.
After lunch we went for coffees around the corner and killed time until it was time to go to the waterfront.  We aimed for the Avenue Of Stars, the Asian version of Hollywood’s Walk Of Fame but were shut out as the area is being renovated.  No biggie, but I was looking forward to seeing the Bruce Lee statue.  Regardless, we found ourselves in the right place for the nightly laser show.
Every night at 8pm Honk Kong hosts the world’s largest (or was it Asia’s largest?) permanent sound and light show at the harbour.  We found a good spot and stared in quiet awe at the astounding skyline while we waited for the show to start.  
Aside from the stunning architecture of the countless buildings lining both sides of the harbour, at night many of the structures become canvases for giant light shows.  I had only seen this once before, at a hotel we stayed at in Miami, but this was redonkulous.  At least a dozen buildings were constantly flashing and pulsating, and it looked just awesome.  So awesome, in fact, that the laser/light show itself was decidedly underwhelming in comparison.  Aside from the sheer logistics of co-ordinating the lasers and the individual building lights to sync up (perfectly) with the music it was really not so impressive.  They need to get CK5 out here for a week or two to design some serious visuals but hey, it was better than nothing.
The show ended at 8:30 and we idled up Nathan Road past Jordon Road to the night market (after stopping at 7-11 for a couple of traveller beers - drinking in the street is so civilized; I’m surprised I never see anyone but me doing it).  The night market was about as interesting as the light show; that is, better than not going but really, it was just a bunch of Made In China crap.
(I got a kick out of the Star Wars Lego knock-offs though: Star Wart and Star Plan.)
By then my appetite was back to jumping up and down so we searched for a restaurant and ultimately settled on a Thai place where I devoured an order of garlic bread and got halfway through a plate of chicken Pad Thai before mysteriously losing my appetite once again.  
After dinner we decided to call it a day and went back to the hotel and went to bed, though neither of us could sleep.  I haven’t laid awake trying to fall asleep in years but I was awake until at least 5:30am.  
It’s hard to fight jet lag.
 

102417
Actually, it was only one drink (each), and an order of fries (again, each).
The flight to Beijing went fairly well (for a thirteen-hour flight).  Heather and I had booked the aisle and window seats, leaving the middle seat hopefully empty.  No such luck this time, and we didn’t end up asking the lady to switch because she was watching movies and Heather’s headset movie machine was not working.  
I had a beer and a pretty lousy chicken meal (not as bad as Heather’s Chinese fatty-pork), watched Wonder Woman and the new Spiderman movie (both not too bad), and curled up for got some fitful sleep.  I was finally fully asleep when the lights in the cabin illuminated and the loudspeaker came on*.  After a loud, aggressive bout of Chinese came the English translation, which went something like this:  
“Ladies and gentlemen, we are three hours from Beijing.  We hope you have been getting a good rest, and we wish you the best of luck getting back to sleep after this announcement.  Please enjoy the rest of your painfully long flight.”
I just don’t get it.
I did, however, manage to get back to sleep just in time for the forty-minute pre-landing wakeup warning.  
We landed in Beijing around 5pm local time.  Looking out the window as we approached the airport I noticed how very foggy it was outside.  When we actually landed I couldn’t see any fog outside at all.  Turns out it was not fog, it was pollution.  A crazy, crazy amount of pollution.
We got off our tardy plane with less than 45 minutes to catch our connection to Hong Kong.  We jogged through the airport until we came to a sign that pointed one way for domestic flights and another way for international flights.
Which stopped these two airport-runners dead in our tracks.
Now, if you’re in Beijing and you are heading to Hong Kong, would you consider it a domestic flight or an international flight?
Of course Hong Kong was a British territory for a long, long time but we all know it went back to China about twenty years ago.  So, domestic right?  But wait a minute, I’m carrying Chinese currency and Hong Kong currency; if it has it’s own money it must be international, right?
(God only knows what country Macau is in!)
The lack of any additional signage whatsoever really added to the mystery.
So we lined up for a domestic transfer and were waiting to go through customs when a helpful stranger suggested we were in the wrong line.  We booked it over to the international line which was moving very slow and kept getting cut by airline employees pushing older folks in wheelchairs.  We eventually tried to stop one of the wheelchair-pushing line-butters.  He showed us a boarding pass that said 8pm.  We showed him ours that said we boarded at 6pm, which at this point was less than ten minutes away.
He was impressed, but he still butted in front of us.  
When we finally got through that line we ran downstairs and found a long queue to get through security (which was pretty redundant as we had just gotten off an international flight and had not left any secure section of the airport).  We showed the guard our boarding passes and without a flicker of a change of expression - the dude acted like a human robot - he indicated we were to follow him and he delivered us to the front of the line.  Security still took a while; I had to stand on a stool and hold my arms straight out for a full two-minute pat down.  When we got out of there we ran as fast as we could though we were pretty confident we were going to miss our connection (which would make us eat tonight’s hotel reservation and would they cancel the rest of our reservation if we don’t check in tonight and do we even have a phone number to call and will they speak English even if we do and…?).  
I got ahead of Heather, yelling over my shoulder that I’d hold the plane for her.  When I finally saw gate E17 from a distance I could see that it was empty save the one, single check-in girl.  She spotted me and started waving her arms.  I couldn’t believe it, but it looked like were going to make it!  I got to the gate and I breathlessly pushed my boarding pass into to her extended hand.  Pointing back down the hallway I tried my best to speak.  “Hea…ther…(pant, pant, pant)…still…come…(pant, pant)…ing.”
We made it onto the plane at the last minute and - dripping sweat - we took our seats in the last row, this time with nobody between us.  Mercy.  We lifted off and plunged through the smog bubble and up into the sky, and now here I sit with just about three hours between me and Hong Kong.
The second plane only has those pop-down screens where we all watch the same movie**, which in this case is a Chinese film conveniently supplemented with Chinese subtitles.  Ah well, here comes the drink cart.
And it’s 5am somewhere.
*I always fly wearing earplugs and an eye mask (I call it ‘flying Tommy-style’) but I had accidentally left everything in my carry on and I just could not find the gumption to get up and dig them out, though I kept telling myself that I should.  And of course that sort of internal argument can do nothing but keep you mostly awake.  Like debating whether or not to get up and go to the bathroom when you’re sleeping in a tent.  
**Though I’m an unabashed lover of the vast entertainment selection generally available on airplanes I gotta say I miss the old days when a screen would drop down at the front of the cabin and everyone on the plane was forced to watch (or try to ignore) the same movie together.  Whether we liked it or not, the cabin would inevitably laugh and gasp together at the funny and surprising parts.  Sure we all imagined having our own customized entertainment system built right in to the seatback in front of us, but we knew that was only a crazy dream future times and until then, hey at least we had Gene Wilder and Richard Pryor in Stir Crazy.
And though the fulfillment of our collective dreams may have gained us freewill we have suffered a tragic and irreversible loss.  We have lost community.

I haven't posted my travel logs in a long time.  In honour of our good friend Bradm (who enjoyed my travel logs and loved it when this board was more active) I'm going to start posting them again.  Though I don't have anything solid on the horizon right now I did just get back from China, so here goes:
102317
I think this might be my record for most miles travelled versus least time prepping.  Getting randomly yanked off the street and thrown into an airplane would have been the only way I could have been any less prepared as I was when we left Ottawa for China this morning.  When I woke up at 7am I hadn’t even started packing yet, and our curfew for leaving the house to take the cat to the sitters was 9:30.  (Heather’s mom again; she seems to be getting slightly less annoyed by the chore every time).  
Frankly I hadn’t given the trip hardly a thought.  Leading up to today I had been busy getting a proposal together for a new book idea which completely distracted me from any thoughts of vacation.  After plugging away for the last week or so I had finished my rough draft at midnight last night and gone straight to bed.  
(This all completely falls in with the fact that I booked the trip to China with hardly a thought as well.  A while back I saw a post on facebook advertising an Air China seat sale to Hong Kong priced at just $501 per person, return from Montreal.  I told Heather about it, we shrugged and booked it.  How could we not?  Imagine how I felt when a few weeks later I saw another post advertising the same flights at just $400, these ones time departing from Ottawa!  Can’t win them all.)
Of course I got it together and packed with time to spare.  We dropped the cat off and made sure he was happy before circling the car around to the bus station where I left Heather and all of our luggage to stand in line for the Montreal bus.  I drove home, pounded a quick tall-boy and power-walked back to the Greyhound station, joining Heather in the Montreal line in thirty minutes flat.
And here we are sitting on the bus.  I’ve gone over the book proposal for a quick proof-read and will send it in from the airport.  Then maybe I can start to relax and think about Honk Kong.
Though I suspect I’ll just head straight to the nearest airport lounge and think about ordering a few drinks.
 

102417
Actually, it was only one drink (each), and an order of fries (again, each).
The flight to Beijing went fairly well (for a thirteen-hour flight).  Heather and I had booked the aisle and window seats, leaving the middle seat hopefully empty.  No such luck this time, and we didn’t end up asking the lady to switch because she was watching movies and Heather’s headset movie machine was not working.  
I had a beer and a pretty lousy chicken meal (not as bad as Heather’s Chinese fatty-pork), watched Wonder Woman and the new Spiderman movie (both not too bad), and curled up for got some fitful sleep.  I was finally fully asleep when the lights in the cabin illuminated and the loudspeaker came on*.  After a loud, aggressive bout of Chinese came the English translation, which went something like this:  
“Ladies and gentlemen, we are three hours from Beijing.  We hope you have been getting a good rest, and we wish you the best of luck getting back to sleep after this announcement.  Please enjoy the rest of your painfully long flight.”
I just don’t get it.
I did, however, manage to get back to sleep just in time for the forty-minute pre-landing wakeup warning.  
We landed in Beijing around 5pm local time.  Looking out the window as we approached the airport I noticed how very foggy it was outside.  When we actually landed I couldn’t see any fog outside at all.  Turns out it was not fog, it was pollution.  A crazy, crazy amount of pollution.
We got off our tardy plane with less than 45 minutes to catch our connection to Hong Kong.  We jogged through the airport until we came to a sign that pointed one way for domestic flights and another way for international flights.
Which stopped these two airport-runners dead in our tracks.
Now, if you’re in Beijing and you are heading to Hong Kong, would you consider it a domestic flight or an international flight?
Of course Hong Kong was a British territory for a long, long time but we all know it went back to China about twenty years ago.  So, domestic right?  But wait a minute, I’m carrying Chinese currency and Hong Kong currency; if it has it’s own money it must be international, right?
(God only knows what country Macau is in!)
The lack of any additional signage whatsoever really added to the mystery.
So we lined up for a domestic transfer and were waiting to go through customs when a helpful stranger suggested we were in the wrong line.  We booked it over to the international line which was moving very slow and kept getting cut by airline employees pushing older folks in wheelchairs.  We eventually tried to stop one of the wheelchair-pushing line-butters.  He showed us a boarding pass that said 8pm.  We showed him ours that said we boarded at 6pm, which at this point was less than ten minutes away.
He was impressed, but he still butted in front of us.  
When we finally got through that line we ran downstairs and found a long queue to get through security (which was pretty redundant as we had just gotten off an international flight and had not left any secure section of the airport).  We showed the guard our boarding passes and without a flicker of a change of expression - the dude acted like a human robot - he indicated we were to follow him and he delivered us to the front of the line.  Security still took a while; I had to stand on a stool and hold my arms straight out for a full two-minute pat down.  When we got out of there we ran as fast as we could though we were pretty confident we were going to miss our connection (which would make us eat tonight’s hotel reservation and would they cancel the rest of our reservation if we don’t check in tonight and do we even have a phone number to call and will they speak English even if we do and…?).  
I got ahead of Heather, yelling over my shoulder that I’d hold the plane for her.  When I finally saw gate E17 from a distance I could see that it was empty save the one, single check-in girl.  She spotted me and started waving her arms.  I couldn’t believe it, but it looked like were going to make it!  I got to the gate and I breathlessly pushed my boarding pass into to her extended hand.  Pointing back down the hallway I tried my best to speak.  “Hea…ther…(pant, pant, pant)…still…come…(pant, pant)…ing.”
We made it onto the plane at the last minute and - dripping sweat - we took our seats in the last row, this time with nobody between us.  Mercy.  We lifted off and plunged through the smog bubble and up into the sky, and now here I sit with just about three hours between me and Hong Kong.
The second plane only has those pop-down screens where we all watch the same movie**, which in this case is a Chinese film conveniently supplemented with Chinese subtitles.  Ah well, here comes the drink cart.
And it’s 5am somewhere.
*I always fly wearing earplugs and an eye mask (I call it ‘flying Tommy-style’) but I had accidentally left everything in my carry on and I just could not find the gumption to get up and dig them out, though I kept telling myself that I should.  And of course that sort of internal argument can do nothing but keep you mostly awake.  Like debating whether or not to get up and go to the bathroom when you’re sleeping in a tent.  
**Though I’m an unabashed lover of the vast entertainment selection generally available on airplanes I gotta say I miss the old days when a screen would drop down at the front of the cabin and everyone on the plane was forced to watch (or try to ignore) the same movie together.  Whether we liked it or not, the cabin would inevitably laugh and gasp together at the funny and surprising parts.  Sure we all imagined having our own customized entertainment system built right in to the seatback in front of us, but we knew that was only a crazy dream future times and until then, hey at least we had Gene Wilder and Richard Pryor in Stir Crazy.
And though the fulfillment of our collective dreams may have gained us freewill we have suffered a tragic and irreversible loss.  We have lost community.

I haven't posted my travel logs in a long time.  In honour of our good friend Bradm (who enjoyed my travel logs and loved it when this board was more active) I'm going to start posting them again.  Though I don't have anything solid on the horizon right now I did just get back from China, so here goes:
102317
I think this might be my record for most miles travelled versus least time prepping.  Getting randomly yanked off the street and thrown into an airplane would have been the only way I could have been any less prepared as I was when we left Ottawa for China this morning.  When I woke up at 7am I hadn’t even started packing yet, and our curfew for leaving the house to take the cat to the sitters was 9:30.  (Heather’s mom again; she seems to be getting slightly less annoyed by the chore every time).  
Frankly I hadn’t given the trip hardly a thought.  Leading up to today I had been busy getting a proposal together for a new book idea which completely distracted me from any thoughts of vacation.  After plugging away for the last week or so I had finished my rough draft at midnight last night and gone straight to bed.  
(This all completely falls in with the fact that I booked the trip to China with hardly a thought as well.  A while back I saw a post on facebook advertising an Air China seat sale to Hong Kong priced at just $501 per person, return from Montreal.  I told Heather about it, we shrugged and booked it.  How could we not?  Imagine how I felt when a few weeks later I saw another post advertising the same flights at just $400, these ones time departing from Ottawa!  Can’t win them all.)
Of course I got it together and packed with time to spare.  We dropped the cat off and made sure he was happy before circling the car around to the bus station where I left Heather and all of our luggage to stand in line for the Montreal bus.  I drove home, pounded a quick tall-boy and power-walked back to the Greyhound station, joining Heather in the Montreal line in thirty minutes flat.
And here we are sitting on the bus.  I’ve gone over the book proposal for a quick proof-read and will send it in from the airport.  Then maybe I can start to relax and think about Honk Kong.
Though I suspect I’ll just head straight to the nearest airport lounge and think about ordering a few drinks.
 

My goodness, BradM was such a great friend. We went to Europe together, we saw countless, and I mean countless shows together, he introduced me to my wife, he was ALWAYS the first to arrive at every party I’ve thrown since I’ve known him, he was THE most dedicated music fan I’ve ever known (and in our crowd that’s saying a lot), and of course he recorded every band I’ve been a part of for the last…what…fifteen years? There are so many songs/lyrics/chord changes I would have forgotten if I didn’t have his recordings to go back to. He was so friendly, so smart, and so damn punctual. I mean, if a ticket said “8pm" BradM would be in the room by 7:30.
For years - and I mean years - every time I saw BradM he would pull a handful of CD's out of his ever-present backpack that he had specifically burnt for me.  They might be a show we had seen together, a show I had recently played, or some local band he had  recorded that he thought I should hear.  I have literally boxes and boxes of these CD's, and so do a lot of other people.  Go ahead, put up your hand if BradM ever gave you a CD.  The man was so unbelievably thoughtful.
BradM, I loved you. We all loved you. You were an indispensable, necessary, and utterly unique member of our social circle. You helped make it a community. You were so supportive. Man, you will be so, so very missed.

My goodness, BradM was such a great friend. We went to Europe together, we saw countless, and I mean countless shows together, he introduced me to my wife, he was ALWAYS the first to arrive at every party I’ve thrown since I’ve known him, he was THE most dedicated music fan I’ve ever known (and in our crowd that’s saying a lot), and of course he recorded every band I’ve been a part of for the last…what…fifteen years? There are so many songs/lyrics/chord changes I would have forgotten if I didn’t have his recordings to go back to. He was so friendly, so smart, and so damn punctual. I mean, if a ticket said “8pm" BradM would be in the room by 7:30.
For years - and I mean years - every time I saw BradM he would pull a handful of CD's out of his ever-present backpack that he had specifically burnt for me.  They might be a show we had seen together, a show I had recently played, or some local band he had  recorded that he thought I should hear.  I have literally boxes and boxes of these CD's, and so do a lot of other people.  Go ahead, put up your hand if BradM ever gave you a CD.  The man was so unbelievably thoughtful.
BradM, I loved you. We all loved you. You were an indispensable, necessary, and utterly unique member of our social circle. You helped make it a community. You were so supportive. Man, you will be so, so very missed.

My goodness, BradM was such a great friend. We went to Europe together, we saw countless, and I mean countless shows together, he introduced me to my wife, he was ALWAYS the first to arrive at every party I’ve thrown since I’ve known him, he was THE most dedicated music fan I’ve ever known (and in our crowd that’s saying a lot), and of course he recorded every band I’ve been a part of for the last…what…fifteen years? There are so many songs/lyrics/chord changes I would have forgotten if I didn’t have his recordings to go back to. He was so friendly, so smart, and so damn punctual. I mean, if a ticket said “8pm" BradM would be in the room by 7:30.
For years - and I mean years - every time I saw BradM he would pull a handful of CD's out of his ever-present backpack that he had specifically burnt for me.  They might be a show we had seen together, a show I had recently played, or some local band he had  recorded that he thought I should hear.  I have literally boxes and boxes of these CD's, and so do a lot of other people.  Go ahead, put up your hand if BradM ever gave you a CD.  The man was so unbelievably thoughtful.
BradM, I loved you. We all loved you. You were an indispensable, necessary, and utterly unique member of our social circle. You helped make it a community. You were so supportive. Man, you will be so, so very missed.

My goodness, BradM was such a great friend. We went to Europe together, we saw countless, and I mean countless shows together, he introduced me to my wife, he was ALWAYS the first to arrive at every party I’ve thrown since I’ve known him, he was THE most dedicated music fan I’ve ever known (and in our crowd that’s saying a lot), and of course he recorded every band I’ve been a part of for the last…what…fifteen years? There are so many songs/lyrics/chord changes I would have forgotten if I didn’t have his recordings to go back to. He was so friendly, so smart, and so damn punctual. I mean, if a ticket said “8pm" BradM would be in the room by 7:30.
For years - and I mean years - every time I saw BradM he would pull a handful of CD's out of his ever-present backpack that he had specifically burnt for me.  They might be a show we had seen together, a show I had recently played, or some local band he had  recorded that he thought I should hear.  I have literally boxes and boxes of these CD's, and so do a lot of other people.  Go ahead, put up your hand if BradM ever gave you a CD.  The man was so unbelievably thoughtful.
BradM, I loved you. We all loved you. You were an indispensable, necessary, and utterly unique member of our social circle. You helped make it a community. You were so supportive. Man, you will be so, so very missed.

My goodness, BradM was such a great friend. We went to Europe together, we saw countless, and I mean countless shows together, he introduced me to my wife, he was ALWAYS the first to arrive at every party I’ve thrown since I’ve known him, he was THE most dedicated music fan I’ve ever known (and in our crowd that’s saying a lot), and of course he recorded every band I’ve been a part of for the last…what…fifteen years? There are so many songs/lyrics/chord changes I would have forgotten if I didn’t have his recordings to go back to. He was so friendly, so smart, and so damn punctual. I mean, if a ticket said “8pm" BradM would be in the room by 7:30.
For years - and I mean years - every time I saw BradM he would pull a handful of CD's out of his ever-present backpack that he had specifically burnt for me.  They might be a show we had seen together, a show I had recently played, or some local band he had  recorded that he thought I should hear.  I have literally boxes and boxes of these CD's, and so do a lot of other people.  Go ahead, put up your hand if BradM ever gave you a CD.  The man was so unbelievably thoughtful.
BradM, I loved you. We all loved you. You were an indispensable, necessary, and utterly unique member of our social circle. You helped make it a community. You were so supportive. Man, you will be so, so very missed.

My goodness, BradM was such a great friend. We went to Europe together, we saw countless, and I mean countless shows together, he introduced me to my wife, he was ALWAYS the first to arrive at every party I’ve thrown since I’ve known him, he was THE most dedicated music fan I’ve ever known (and in our crowd that’s saying a lot), and of course he recorded every band I’ve been a part of for the last…what…fifteen years? There are so many songs/lyrics/chord changes I would have forgotten if I didn’t have his recordings to go back to. He was so friendly, so smart, and so damn punctual. I mean, if a ticket said “8pm" BradM would be in the room by 7:30.
For years - and I mean years - every time I saw BradM he would pull a handful of CD's out of his ever-present backpack that he had specifically burnt for me.  They might be a show we had seen together, a show I had recently played, or some local band he had  recorded that he thought I should hear.  I have literally boxes and boxes of these CD's, and so do a lot of other people.  Go ahead, put up your hand if BradM ever gave you a CD.  The man was so unbelievably thoughtful.
BradM, I loved you. We all loved you. You were an indispensable, necessary, and utterly unique member of our social circle. You helped make it a community. You were so supportive. Man, you will be so, so very missed.

I was at a restaurant in downtown Kingston last June having dinner on the patio before a Bob Dylan concert at K-Rock. I knew that Rob Baker was a regular at the restaurant so it wasn't a complete shock when he walked right behind me, leaving the restaurant. It was, however, a shock to notice that Gord Downie (and Gord Sinclair) were with him. They stopped to linger on the sidewalk and Gord Downie noticed that I had noticed him. 
As I stared with my jaw slightly agape Gord leaned down and put his elbows on the little fence that seperated the patio from the sidewalk. He rested his chin in his hands and smiled, staring at me with a bemused look on his face. I stared and gaped, he stared and smiled. It seemed to last for thirty seconds or more. Eventually he got me: I flinched and looked away. 
When I looked back the three of them had set off down the sidewalk towards the Dylan show, completely unmolested by the throngs of people in the busy streets, all of whom had the respect to treat them the same as everyone else.
It's a wonderful final memory to have of a man I admire so much.

I was at a restaurant in downtown Kingston last June having dinner on the patio before a Bob Dylan concert at K-Rock. I knew that Rob Baker was a regular at the restaurant so it wasn't a complete shock when he walked right behind me, leaving the restaurant. It was, however, a shock to notice that Gord Downie (and Gord Sinclair) were with him. They stopped to linger on the sidewalk and Gord Downie noticed that I had noticed him. 
As I stared with my jaw slightly agape Gord leaned down and put his elbows on the little fence that seperated the patio from the sidewalk. He rested his chin in his hands and smiled, staring at me with a bemused look on his face. I stared and gaped, he stared and smiled. It seemed to last for thirty seconds or more. Eventually he got me: I flinched and looked away. 
When I looked back the three of them had set off down the sidewalk towards the Dylan show, completely unmolested by the throngs of people in the busy streets, all of whom had the respect to treat them the same as everyone else.
It's a wonderful final memory to have of a man I admire so much.

I was at a restaurant in downtown Kingston last June having dinner on the patio before a Bob Dylan concert at K-Rock. I knew that Rob Baker was a regular at the restaurant so it wasn't a complete shock when he walked right behind me, leaving the restaurant. It was, however, a shock to notice that Gord Downie (and Gord Sinclair) were with him. They stopped to linger on the sidewalk and Gord Downie noticed that I had noticed him. 
As I stared with my jaw slightly agape Gord leaned down and put his elbows on the little fence that seperated the patio from the sidewalk. He rested his chin in his hands and smiled, staring at me with a bemused look on his face. I stared and gaped, he stared and smiled. It seemed to last for thirty seconds or more. Eventually he got me: I flinched and looked away. 
When I looked back the three of them had set off down the sidewalk towards the Dylan show, completely unmolested by the throngs of people in the busy streets, all of whom had the respect to treat them the same as everyone else.
It's a wonderful final memory to have of a man I admire so much.

I was at a restaurant in downtown Kingston last June having dinner on the patio before a Bob Dylan concert at K-Rock. I knew that Rob Baker was a regular at the restaurant so it wasn't a complete shock when he walked right behind me, leaving the restaurant. It was, however, a shock to notice that Gord Downie (and Gord Sinclair) were with him. They stopped to linger on the sidewalk and Gord Downie noticed that I had noticed him. 
As I stared with my jaw slightly agape Gord leaned down and put his elbows on the little fence that seperated the patio from the sidewalk. He rested his chin in his hands and smiled, staring at me with a bemused look on his face. I stared and gaped, he stared and smiled. It seemed to last for thirty seconds or more. Eventually he got me: I flinched and looked away. 
When I looked back the three of them had set off down the sidewalk towards the Dylan show, completely unmolested by the throngs of people in the busy streets, all of whom had the respect to treat them the same as everyone else.
It's a wonderful final memory to have of a man I admire so much.

"Tomorrow's doughnut flavour is Kansas/Metallica"
That joke was my favourite part of the run, hands down.
I am now a fan of the band.

I think they're barber-in-laws.

To be fair, you were wearing a jacket on a warm summer's night.

When I was a kid the television set was my best friend.  We laughed and learned together and we had the same heroes.  My favourite tv shows were Sesame Street, Batman, Get Smart, and Planet Of The Apes, pretty much in that order.  
 
Funny, when I look back it occurs to me that Batman was the only one of these shows that I didn’t really ‘get’.  I knew that Sesame Street was an educational show, I knew Get Smart was a comedy and while I didn’t realize that Planet Of The Apes was a statement on racial issues in America I certainly knew it was a drama.  
 
But Adam West was so deadpan, delivering absurd dialogue with such conviction that I thought Batman was a legit superhero action show.  Little did I know that my psyche was absorbing camp-style humour that would flow through my brain forever more.  Suffice to say, the dry, near-psychedelic comedy of Adam West’s Batman made a huge impression on me, whether I knew it or not.
 
Sometime in the mid-to-late 1980’s the Batmobile was touring as part of the annual car show that came to the Moncton Coliseum and Adam West was there too.  Of course I went (the car show was a non-missable event in my family) and marvelled at the beautiful automobile with it’s shiny chrome rocket launchers, ultra-cool rear turbo blaster and sharp, bat-like angles all around.  What an awesome machine.
 
And beside the car was the man himself, Adam West, sitting all alone behind a small folding table.  I was amazed, and so starstruck that I almost didn’t go up and say hello.  As I gazed Mr. West glanced my way and gave me a smile.  I took a deep breath and approached him.  This was long before the whole comicon thing (I think) and certainly long before people had the audacity to charge money for autographs and yet there was nobody at all anywhere near Batman.  
 
Once I opened my mouth I began to gush, breathlessly trying to explain what an impact he had on my childhood and my whole level of being, all the while feeling silly that here I was almost twenty years old and I was acting like a little kid.  I guess I still didn’t quite ‘get’ Batmen even then, otherwise I would have been fully aware that I was exactly his demographic; a former kid who was getting his first full taste of nostalgia.
 
I don’t remember much of what Adam West said to me, but I can picture the easy friendliness on his face, which is kind of odd because I can’t for the life of me remember if he was dressed in his Batman outfit or if he was in street clothes.  I do recall walking away feeling great about the encounter, so I’m sure he was very nice.
 
It’s curious to note that my childhood love of Batman has caused me to virtually run to every Batman movie that has come along since and I haven’t really cared for any of them, and I’ve never ever been into the actual comic books.  I guess I wasn’t a Batman fan after all.
 
I was an Adam West fan.  His comedic approach made him my superhero.
 
Farewell caped crusader, thanks for all the batcomedy.

There's a new weekly Canadian music series coming up in Ottawa at the post-renovated 4th Stage: https://nac-cna.ca/en/presents/packages/fridays-at-the-fourth
 

Actually, a Bob Wiseman show at Zaphod's is among my top three concerts ever, and the time I saw Look People there stands as the weirdest night of live music I've ever seen or heard of.  Nostril shrimp diving, two ice cream cones up the drummers butt, and oh, so much more.

Fact: Hudson will be so vastly better than Kenny Rogers in a musical sense that the two events cannot even be measurably compared.
Fact: I will be at Kenny Rogers that evening.
Fact: Sometimes I can be really, really stupid.