Notes From The Road

Last I checked in I was scheduled to depart for the west coast by way of the thumb. Well, the plan was to use a sign, but you get the point. Anyways, a lot has happened since now and then. I’ve taken in a concert. I’ve participated in loud, unruly acoustic guitar jams at all hours of the night. I’ve slept at a lovely cottage in a remote area of Ontario, where I drank more beer than I would have ever expected. I’ve sunk my teeth into a generous helping of LOLs. I’ve lit off fireworks, and struggled to scrub the smell of campfire from my body. I’ve had no trouble finding rides. I’ve even run into some old friends. It’s been truly awesome.

Sounds like an unbelievable weekend of hitchhiking, doesn’t it? Well, it is indeed unbelievable, as I haven’t made any forward progress in three days. I’m in Ottawa. And I’m sorry blogosphere, as I know that I’ve let you down. There will be no wild tales from the road. There will be no photo essays. There will be no highly descriptive narratives of my heroic escape from the lad-napping attempt of a backwoods gap-toothed human trafficker in the British Columbia interior. Yes, my friends, the gig is up, and I’m left feeling a little gloomy. I had a great weekend, but it’s over, and I’m firmly planted at square one.

I now sit at the computer in my apartment, hastily attempting to plan my escape. I don’t have time to hitchhike to the coast and still visit all the people I intended to see. So I’ll have to fly. I made the (faulty) assumption that standby flying existed in such wondrous lands as the real world. I assumed that I’d have an easy time acquiring a last minute ticket to Vancouver at a fraction of the cost that every other customer pays. Alas, such fantasy lands exist only on television, and in the minds of pie-eyed travelers who are more content to live in the moment than to carry out months-old plans concocted to satisfy the appetite of a man dazed by his own wanderlust. Of course standby flying doesn’t exist. Why in this god-forsaken world would any self-respecting business reward its most reckless and self-indulgent customers for being lazy and complacent, and for showing flagrant disrespect toward the highly ritualized customs of air travel? Barring a minor miracle, I’ll be charging an arm and a leg to my MasterCard sometime late tonight or early tomorrow, accepting defeat, and boarding a flight to Vancouver. This is depressing…