I Fart in Your General Direction

View from LAX Terminal 2.

As promised, I am making blog entries while on vacation. Right now, I'm sitting in Rick and Candy's living room in Keeseville. It's nice to just kick back and relax.

Like most trips, this one started with a plane ride, which means taking the shuttle to LAX. Since I was flying to another country (Montreal), I had to get to the terminal three hours early. As usual, it took me all of 15 minutes to get through security and the gate I was leaving from was about 100 feet from the security station, so there was lots of time to sit in the waiting area and wait.

 Waiting in le salle d'attente at LAX.

Of course, I sat with a cup of Starbucks joe and a croissant, dozed off several times and waited patiently for the flight. I heard more and more French being spoken around me. It was an Air Canada flight. But the accent was odd to my ear. It was course around the edges, not as refined as the Parisian French I am used to hearing. And I would be hearing it for the next several days.

Snowy night in Montreal

When I arrived in Montreal, there was the passage through customs, then the descent into the baggage claim area (I did not have any checked bags). I was looking around, trying to see if I could find Candy and Rick. I pulled out my trusty iPhone and dialed their number, knowing I'd have a nice international charge on my bill come next month. Rick answered his phone. I had to cup my free ear in order to hear. "I'm in the baggage claim area," I said. "There's a Starbucks and I'm near Gate 25 and 26."

Candy and Rick at dinner.

I started turning around to look for them, only to see Rick standing up, no more than three feet behind me, looking around as well, both with shocked looks on our faces when we saw one another. There was laughing and hugs, and we went to the car and drove into Montreal proper and, after a bit of misdirected travel, ended up at the St. Suplice hotel, where we overnighted. We walked out and had dinner in a very nice restaurant and hit the sack.

The Notre Dame basilica in Montreal.

On Saturday, we walked around the neighborhood, grabbed some breakfast, then got the car and moved it near the theater, where we were attending a play. There was enough time that we visited the Notre Dame basilica, which was an amazing piece of architecture, but definitely of New World design and construction. Afterwards, we did some window shopping (I bought the necessary refrigerator magnet as souvenir) and ended up back at the theater.

A lovely theater, a very lame production.

The play was more of a workshop piece, really, dealing with something awful that had happened to some Quebec women in the early 20th century. It was all told by a narrator and no one ever really explained what the whole story was about. If I knew more about Canadian history, perhaps it would have made sense to me, but Rick, Candy and I were all kind of mystified by the whole thing. I would give it a 3 out of 10.

After the show, we got into the car and headed to the border, went through U.S. customs and headed for Keeseville. We stopped off at Corey and Daphne's home (Daphne is Rick's daughter) and Corey made a great dinner of Tilapia and brown rice. This is the first time I had met either of them, or their kids, Dominique and Josh (their third offspring was not present, so I can't remember his name).

During a trip to the market, a ceremonial bottle of La Phroiag was purchased in my honor, and I dutifully downed a sizable amount. It was not necessary to pour me into the car when we left for Rick and Candy's, but I have to admit that the rest of the evening was rather a blur.

I discovered that Corey and Rick were both trying to quit smoking, as I am, so of course we all went out onto the front porch, had a cigarette, and talked about how hard it was to quit. This scenario would be repeated numerous times over my stay, either on Corey's front porch or Rick's. I suppose you could consider it a type of support group.

Rick and Candy's home in Keeseville.

The next morning I got up with much less of a hangover than I thought I would have. Rick explained that he had given me some B vitamin tablets before retiring, and that had mitigated a lot of the suffering I might have had. There wasn't a whole lot to do in Keeseville, and the fact that it was 28°F outside made staying in for the day reasonable. That evening, Corey and Daphne brought the kids over for dinner, we watched some TV and everyone headed home. I think we headed to bed around 11 that evening.

View from the "smoking porch."

I slept 12 hours at least that night, waking up after noon. I can remember waking up once during that time, so I figured I needed the rest. The weather had warmed up to the upper 30s, so the smoke breaks to the front porch became longer in duration, if not in number. The finest part of any visit is the visiting, and we did that extensively and well. It's so great to see people you love and realize that all the time spent apart doesn't seem to have an effect on the friendship and intimacy you share.

Sometime in the afternoon we fit in doing a load of laundry (my wardrobe was planned for one load of laundry in each location, sort of recycling the clothes I brought and allowing me to take only one carry-on and avoid checking luggage altogether). We would have to leave the next morning around 10 a.m. in order to get me across the border, through U.S. customs and to the airport on time.

As usual, my experience with customs and security it that I get through the entire process in under 15 minutes, then have a couple hours to wait for my flight to board. This time was no different. I got to the gate and sat for an hour or so before the flight boarded (on time), and I was off to my next destination: Tampa Airport, where I would be retrieved for my visit to Jay and Sandy in Sarasota, where I am polishing and posting this entry. Next entry: Sunshine and Sarasota.