Through the Canadian Rockies and into Idaho. We stopped at the border, and were searched. "Hey Jim, I need your nose," spouted an old squat woman. Jim was a man, they couldn't afford a dog, so they hired a man that looked like one. Jim stuck his nose in our trunk, knocked a few things onto the pavement, and gave the squat woman a shrug. We went on our way and into Montana.
Glacier National Park met us late at night, and we stole a campsite. The managers chewed us out in the morning, but were old and useless. We drove the wrong way on the one way road, played loud music, and got drunk, and heard about it each morning.
There is only one bowling alley in the area, shared by three towns, but each town knew where it was. We got there at three in the afternoon, picked up beer, and shotgunned three each behind the building. There were two other people bowling, 24 lanes, and a bar. We bought a few games and a few pitchers. We got loud, Tyler went crazy on an arcade machine, almost kicked it in, and were kicked out.
We cooked pasta in the afternoon sun, spilled, and burned our mouths. All the doors on our car were open, music blaring and things falling out all over the pavement. A car of two backwater girls pulled up and we asked them if they wanted to join the party. they didn't. Tyler got their numbers and we sat around, finishing our watery pasta, nursing our mouths.
Somehow we got back to our campsite, and fell asleep in a downpour.
Wednesday, December 17, 2008
Thursday, December 11, 2008
6/20/08 - Singing in Vancouver: Part II
We woke up the next morning and ate an entire box of their cereal, said we would get them back, and left to go play music on the streets of Vancouver.
Armed with directions, tourist hot spots, and a special map that we had to bring back in pristine condition for the uncle's wife, we made our way downtown. The cheapest parking was thirteen Canadian dollars, and we agreed that we would sit out on the street until we paid for our parking. It was overcast, and dreary, like Portland and Seattle should have been. We made for the train station, and after being ping-pong around by bad directions we found it and set up in the busiest hall.
We only made eight dollars or so in Portland, but there aren't many one dollar coins, and no two dollar coins like there are in Vancouver. We were hopeful, and smiled as we hummed harmonies, and made up riffs and lyrics, and watched the coins drop. Derek improvised on his guitar, Tyler on the pots and mugs. Lance and I helped out with the vocals and kept our "Feats of Strength," sign in lain view. I bagged a two dollar coin with five one-armed push-ups, while the other three cheered and hummed and riffed away. The hall we played in was more like a tube with a shiny tile floor that bounced and threw our voices until the echoes rang into the ears of shop owner nearby who asked us to leave, or stop. We stopped to count our haul. Derek pulled some coins from his pocket. He had a theory of keeping a small amount of money in the bowl, and the rest in his pocket, insurance against robbers or to make us look more pathetic than we were. It was a good theory. We wound up with nearly twenty dollars, and decided to move outside and try for a little longer, but only added three dollars and some change to our pot.
With a ten dollar profit after the parking fee we looked for food and used our $2.50 judiciously. We looked into pooling our money together for beer, but the prices were outrageous. I don't care if Bud Light is an import in Canada, it should never cost $20.00 for a six pack.
The rest of our stay in Vancouver was relaxing, and uneventful. We stayed another night and woke up to an empty house. We packed our things slowly, thinking about the drive ahead; Through the Canadian Rockies, into Montana to Glacier National Park. Derek forgot to lock the front door, and I clicked the knob and tried the handle. I doubt it would have mattered.
Armed with directions, tourist hot spots, and a special map that we had to bring back in pristine condition for the uncle's wife, we made our way downtown. The cheapest parking was thirteen Canadian dollars, and we agreed that we would sit out on the street until we paid for our parking. It was overcast, and dreary, like Portland and Seattle should have been. We made for the train station, and after being ping-pong around by bad directions we found it and set up in the busiest hall.
We only made eight dollars or so in Portland, but there aren't many one dollar coins, and no two dollar coins like there are in Vancouver. We were hopeful, and smiled as we hummed harmonies, and made up riffs and lyrics, and watched the coins drop. Derek improvised on his guitar, Tyler on the pots and mugs. Lance and I helped out with the vocals and kept our "Feats of Strength," sign in lain view. I bagged a two dollar coin with five one-armed push-ups, while the other three cheered and hummed and riffed away. The hall we played in was more like a tube with a shiny tile floor that bounced and threw our voices until the echoes rang into the ears of shop owner nearby who asked us to leave, or stop. We stopped to count our haul. Derek pulled some coins from his pocket. He had a theory of keeping a small amount of money in the bowl, and the rest in his pocket, insurance against robbers or to make us look more pathetic than we were. It was a good theory. We wound up with nearly twenty dollars, and decided to move outside and try for a little longer, but only added three dollars and some change to our pot.
With a ten dollar profit after the parking fee we looked for food and used our $2.50 judiciously. We looked into pooling our money together for beer, but the prices were outrageous. I don't care if Bud Light is an import in Canada, it should never cost $20.00 for a six pack.
The rest of our stay in Vancouver was relaxing, and uneventful. We stayed another night and woke up to an empty house. We packed our things slowly, thinking about the drive ahead; Through the Canadian Rockies, into Montana to Glacier National Park. Derek forgot to lock the front door, and I clicked the knob and tried the handle. I doubt it would have mattered.
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