I would hope that if you read this frequently enough that you'd get the drift.
I was thinking to myself, probably in my bed, about how much I love mac 'n cheese. The next thought was about how much I love bacon. So the next thought was naturally an equation (blame it on being a science major):
Homemade Mac 'n Cheese + Bacon = Heaven
Literally, heaven. Because of the taste, but also due to the fact that I would die from arteriosclerosis. For those of you who aren't aware of what that disease is, it's the hardening of your arteries. The arteries harden and clog to the point where no blood can flow through and you consequently die.
I was ready to die. Or move seductively closer to death. Maybe sway over. I'll leave that up to you.
While the mac 'n cheese sauce is always super important, people tend to overlook the kind of pasta. Elbows, always friggin elbows. I think AngryBFlay, one of my favorite Twitter accounts, puts it perfectly.
[twitter]
Why can't we expand our noodle horizons? What's wrong with using penne? Spiral macaroni? Tortellini? Why not push the metaphorical envelope and dive into the realm of potato pasta? Why not use gnocchi?
Oh, gnocchi. The densest pasta I've ever eaten. It looks like fat maggots but tastes like pasta. It's also relatively expensive, but I will say that you will be full for days. You benefit greatly from gnocchi, in the stomach and heart. It will also guarantee to weigh you down to the point that you cannot physically move for a few hours/days. When you say that you're having gnocchi for dinner all I hear is, "I'm planning on watching movies all day and not being ashamed about it and then falling asleep three hours later and it will be glorious."
And glorious, it is. Gnocchi turns the average person into a sloth, and turns a sloth into a sea cucumber. So with this thought, I wondered how this magically filling pasta would fare in mac 'n cheese. My mind naturally went to another equation:
Homemade Mac 'n Cheese + Bacon + Gnocchi =
JESUS TAKE THE WHEEL.
Take it from my friggin hand. I called my doctor and informed him of what I would be making. He told me that I would die if I consumed it. I called the casket company down the street and arranged for a discount funeral package in case I got too hungry and ate to my death.
I was ready to perish for this meal.
Trust me when I say that this is a dish worth dying over. Or at least risking your life. Want to make it for your very own? Let me show you, child.
The first thing you're going to need to do is boil the gnocchi. They'll plump up a bit and slightly resemble maggots.
Once it's all warmed up, throw some butter in a pan and fry that up. It should be crispy on the outside and chewy on the inside. Like most delicious things.
Salivation Meter: Noticeable amount of drool escaping from mouth. Trouble forming coherent sentences from all of the saliva pooled up.
Once all of your gnocchi is sufficiently crispy, you can start focusing on other things (if possible). Melt butter and flour together to make a roux.
Once you've got that all together, add your milk. It is now the time to glance over at that cheese you bought. It better be only Extra Extra Sharp Cheddar or we've got some problems. Chunk those blocks up.
Have you ever seen anything more beautiful?
Salivation Meter: At the sight of cheddar cheese, drool resembles a small waterfall. The velocity of the flow is 2 m/s.
Add that beautiful cheese in and let it melt. Let the warm milk seduce it. Just let it happen. Stir it around to get the sauce going. Salt and pepper the final product to make sure it tastes perfect. Feel free to add in some hot sauce if that's your thing (it's certainly mine).
Then you'll want to grab a slab of bacon and casually place it on the cutting board.
Then accidentally chop it up.
Whoops.
Then accidentally fry it.
SORRY NOT SORRY.
Salivation Meter: With the aroma of fried bacon and the sight of homemade cheese sauce, the mouth resembles Niagara Falls. The velocity of the flow is 50 m/s.
Once your bacon is fried and you somehow manage to not consume all of it, put it on some paper towels. Take the gnocchi and pop that in a bowl with the bacon.
Hello there.
Pour that beautiful cheese sauce into that bowl. Use a little more than you usually would, the gnocchi will soak up the sauce. As if this could get any better.
Pour that into a baking dish and throw that beautiful creation into a 350 degree oven until it's golden brown.
Hello, beautiful.
Scoop it out immediately and eat as much as your body allows. Be sure to hook yourself up to a blood pressure monitor just to be safe. And if you downed some cholesterol meds, blood thinners, HBP medication, and maybe a Prozac for good measure you should be fine. Maybe. You know what, just have a person who is CPR certified in the room when you eat this. Excellent.
First of all, I want to say that I'm incredibly sorry to you guys. Well, to you eight lovely people who take the time out of your day to read this. Since July, it appears as if my life has taken a turn for the extremely busy. Writing a blog post takes more time than you'd probably imagine (unless you have a blog, because you'd probably have a good idea at that point). So much has happened since July, and I have a goldmine of ideas for this blog. So bear with me as I try to catch you up.
I worked for the rest of the summer, nothing really happened there. Put on nice clothes, answer phones, get a death threat because we won't rent a car to them with a Wal-Mart gift card, rinse and repeat. Typical day. Mid-July rolled around and I realized a few things:
1. I haven't had a vacation from school or work for over two years.
2. I had a pretty decent amount of cash flow (from the pimping I do on the side of my day job, mostly).
3. One of my really good friends (who I get to see ~10 days/year) lives on an island that is one giant beach.
SOLD.
Ever heard of Prince Edward Island, Canada? Me neither. It's in Atlantic Canada, north of Nova Scotia. I used my advanced skills in MS Paint to provide you with a map. The small circle is where I live, and the circled island is obviously PEI.
Pretty crazy skills, right? [Google Maps]
I'm going to say this outright, getting to PEI is NOT CHEAP. It looks a little out of the way, yes? I'm pretty sure I could fly across the world for cheaper, so I scoured the internet for the cheapest prices. And they ended up being in Toronto. So, the travel route is as follows: Syracuse to Toronto; Toronto to Montreal; Montreal to New Brunswick; New Brunswick to PEI. Four Canadian provinces in ONE DAY? BRING IT OOOONNNNN. I've also taken the liberty to map out a route using Paint so it's aesthetically pleasing to you.
I have a hard time determining if this is a homemade or professional map. [Google Maps]
It was going to be a long day. If everything went perfectly, I would leave Syracuse at 1:00am and get to the PEI at about 6:00pm the next day. I allotted time to sleep on the bus, so I didn't think it was going to be that bad. Then, I'd have a grand ole' time in PEI for a little over a week, catch a flight and head home. I was excited.
But, as most things end up working out in life, everything did not go perfectly. Prepare yourself for a chronicle of the journey I experienced.
Disclaimer: It is because of this trip that I refuse to travel alone. All of what happened to me is true (I don't think I could even come up with this stuff if I tried).
Phase 1: Getting to PEI
This was my first time traveling a long distance alone. My first time flying alone, for sure. I'd always been with a group of people or at least one other person. But I was ridin' solo this time. That should have been the first red flag. If I'm alone, there's definitely more of a chance to have something really weird happen to me.
I left on a Thursday night/Friday morning at 1:00am. I worked all day so by the time I got to the bus station, I was exhausted. I had everything packed, my passport, every ticket. The bus was running late (what's new) but I anticipated that. I scheduled everything so I had some cushion in case a bus or plane was running late. And thank every god in existence that I did.
They filled the bus before I could get on. They had to call another one, which took about a half-hour. I didn't think it was such a big deal. I wished my friends goodbye, got on the bus, whipped out my neck pillow, and fell asleep. I wake up and we're in Buffalo. It was around 4:00am and the driver informs us that due to the mishap in Syracuse, we've all missed our connection to Toronto.
Wonderful.
A bus would be there shortly, so we all just got off and waited in the seating area. It was at this time that I forged an alliance/guardianship with two elderly tourists who spoke a language that I couldn't identify. It was something of Slavic descent. They spoke no English and relied on me to guide them to Toronto. How could I say no? I nicknamed them the Grandfather and Babushka in my head and vowed to get them to Toronto.
She literally looked like this. [tim-jackson.co.uk]
An hour passed, and another. I was starting to get worried. My flight was at 11:00am out of Toronto and if I missed it, I would've probably set something on fire. I talked to the attendant and he said one was on the way. A bus rolls in, and a ton of people get off. They start shuffling to another bus. Suspicious, I ask that bus driver where he was driving to. He said Toronto. I went into barter-mode and basically forced him to let me on the bus. As well as the Babushka and the Grandfather (because they were lost, trust me). We were the last three people on the bus, and we were sent to the back. Literally, I sat in the extreme back. There was a three-person bench next to the bathroom. Next to the window was an older Jamaican woman, then me, then the Babushka, then the bathroom. It was pretty tight, and pretty damn smelly.
I'm really relying on diagrams to guide you through this.
It's about 7:30 in the morning at this point. I figured I still had time before I was going to panic. It takes about ten minutes until we reach the US-Canadian border. We get off, I make sure to herd the Grandfather and Babushka so I can help them. We all make it through customs swimmingly. Can I just go off on a tangent and state how peeved I am that they don't stamp passports? I've been to Canada a few times and I've never gotten it stamped. I digress.
I get back on the bus. About half-way in, this WALL of cat pee/ammonia hits me. People were gagging. Someone obviously coated the back-half of this bus in straight-up urine because I can't think of any other logical solution to the extreme stench. I've never smelled anything like it. I hope to never smell anything like that again. I'm holding back puke and go to my seat, which is right next to the bathroom. It was the most concentrated around the bathroom. So concentrated, in fact, that when I tried to breathe through my mouth, I could taste the urine. Do you have any idea what pee tastes like? Never find out.
Eve's Mental Status: Relying on three hours of sleep, Eve is slowly losing her mind. She can't comprehend what's happening to her at the moment. She thinks that this is what purgatory might look like.
Everyone on the bus is gagging. There are people getting ill. I look to my neighbors for solace. To my left, the older Jamaican woman is rubbing a stick of deodorant all over her face and scarf. To my right, the Babushka is covering her face with her scarf and coughing. The bus driver keeps going and we're all waiting for death. Either the smell dissipated at this point or we all just got used to it. The Babushka was falling asleep on my shoulder. I lent her my neck pillow so she'd be more comfortable. I fell asleep promptly after that and woke up when we were around the edge of Toronto. It was 8:30 or so. I knew I was going to be okay.
I had hope. I felt a weight lift off my shoulders. The bus got into the city and he calls for people going to the airport to get off first. We stop, I wish the Babushka and Grandfather farewell, and escape the urinemobile. The bus driver tells me a shuttle will be coming in a few minutes to take everyone to the airport. I join the group and confirm that they're going to the airport. The shuttle comes, I hop on, and zip off to the airport. I was smiling. I was happy. I felt, at that moment, that this trip wasn't going to be a huge fiasco.
I was as happy-go-lucky as that otter in the middle. [buzzfeed]
We get dropped off, and walk to the airport station. The shuttle took us to this weird part of the airport. Apparently the airport was on the other side of a body of water: you had to take a ferry to get to the actual airport. I was waiting for the ferry and casually scanned my ticket at the Air Canada kiosk. It said I didn't exist. Strange. I brushed it off, blaming that I didn't exist on the system because I already printed my ticket.
Eve's Mental Status: Eve is happy to get off that bus from hell/sewage treatment plant. Her three collective hours of sleep has pushed her into this odd state of euphoria and does not recognize that her ticket not registering is a bad thing.
I get on the ferry (first time on a ferry!) and cross the body of water. I scuttle over to the main corridor and get in line. I'm happy as a clam at this point. It's 9:45am or so, my plane takes off at 11:00. I couldn't believe that despite everything I'd been through earlier in the day that everything was going to work out. One of the employees tells us that if we're just carrying bags on, we don't have to wait in line. Even more convenient! I dodge out of the line and head over to security. I place my things on the belt and hand the security guard my ticket. He scans it, and it makes a funny noise.
He scans it again, and looks disgruntled.
He scans it again, and calls over one of his coworkers.
Of course. Why would anything go right for me? WHY WOULD I EVER THINK I WAS GOING TO THE RIGHT AIRPORT. WHY.
At this stage in time, something snapped. I calmly went to the front desk and told them I was at the wrong airport and that my flight was leaving in an hour. They couldn't do anything for me, but they said that if I made the ferry [that was currently boarding], I might make it.
Twitch. [fanpop]
So I ran. I ran faster than I thought I ever could. It was straight out of a movie.
Or a NatGeo documentary... [paintermixmagazne.co.uk]
I made it onto the ferry. I was drenched in sweat. I was in jeans and a sweatshirt (anticipating the traveling to make me cold) and my body temperature was definitely in the triple digits. I made my way to the front of the ferry so I could be the first one out. People were moving away from me. I quickly evaluated myself. I'm dripping in sweat, wearing winter clothes in August, smell like urine (thanks, Greyhound), and probably look crazy.
Not probably. Definitely.
To add fuel to the fire, the ferry stops and as soon as we were allowed off, I make a mad dash to the taxis. I'm running again and a cab driver gets out of his car. I scream, "I'M AT THE WRONG AIRPORT!"
He pops his trunk and we leave. It's around 10:15am at this point and I'm panicking. Wouldn't you? He says we might make it. He drove a little faster than usual, I think he noticed how afraid I was. We got to the airport on the other side of town. THE REAL AIRPORT, APPARENTLY. I paid the ridiculous cab fee, thanked the drive immensely, and ran into the airport.
Okay, this airport was significantly bigger than the last. I was lost. It was 10:35. I ran up to an Air Canada employee helping an old woman in a wheelchair and asked/pleaded/screamed where security was. I'm terrible, I know. She points in a direction and I'm off again. I go to the huge security line and wait in line. My nerves are getting the best of me. I was next in line for security and a new gate opened up. I was through in a minute. I bolt over to the terminal just in time for me to get out my ticket and passport to board.
That sums it up. [momillustrated.com]
I felt so bad for the dude who sat next to me. I literally looked like hell and smelled like something that makes hell look like paradise. I got to Montreal shortly after that, and the rest of the trip went well. I ate something in Montreal, flew to New Brunswick and went to meet my friend. He picked me up and we left. It was around 5:00pm. After 16 hours of travel on three hours of sleep, I was not really myself. Naturally, I fell down an entire flight of stairs when I was heading to the car. Because at this point, nothing should surprise me.
I'm in the car and telling the entire tale you just read. I couldn't believe what happened to me. We get on a bridge and head to PEI. It's a big bridge.
Told you so. [msride.ca]
We get to the island and I notice a few things:
1. There are only farms.
2. The traffic lights are horizontal and have different shapes for different colors.
3. People don't walk outside.
4. Do people live on this island?
5. The hottest news on local radio was about a fox in a backyard.
6. Canadian credit cards have this weird chip on them (like a SIM card).
7. The only dogs on PEI are Golden Retrievers.
Yup, we're definitely not in Syracuse anymore.
Phase 2: Chilling in PEI
Considering that I was traveling for a million years (or so it felt) and hadn't slept, all I really wanted to do was take a shower and go to sleep. My stomach protested and we stopped to get food. We went to a Chinese restaurant. We all ordered food and I think I was still describing my ordeal at that point. At the end of the meal, some people from another table were leaving the restaurant. One guy walks behind me and I notice him staring. He probably smelled me from his table and detected the source as he walked past me. I looked back at him and he looked at me.
Man: I'm sorry, I'm just wondering what you're eating. Me: Um. I'm eating General Tso's Chicken? Man: That's exactly what I was going to get, but I didn't. Is it any good? Me: Yeah, it's actually really good. [man stares] Me: Do...you want to try some? Man: Oh, no, I couldn't. Me: If you want some, I have plenty. Are you sure? Man: Oh, okay. If you insist. [I give him my plate and he tried some chicken] Man: Thanks a lot! Me: No problem, have a nice night.
I look back at my friend and his jaw is dropped. Is this not normal? I didn't really think anything of striking up a conversation with a stranger and sharing my dinner with him. The next thing we do is go out for ice cream. PEI has a ice cream store called Cows that rivals Ben & Jerry's. I think they're both good. I'd say my loyalty lies in the middle of the two. Perhaps I should have both in one day to come to a conclusion. Cows does a really interesting thing: they have a ton of t-shirts with pop culture references hybridized with cow humor.
Such as this. [cows.ca]
We went to my friend's house, I took a shower, we watched the Olympics for a little, and I fell asleep.
I just want to say how strange it is to watch the Olympics outside of America. You don't notice how different the viewing experience is until you're out of it. Most advertisements will support Team USA, even offer giveaways if Team USA wins the Gold. America goes to the Olympics to win. And in a lot of events, America is recognized for that. In Canada, the summer Olympics aren't the country's best events. I'd imagine Canada doing a lot better in the winter Olympics. Some advertisements were geared towards Team Canada, but the Olympics didn't seem like a huge deal. I watched events that I wouldn't usually watch, mostly because they were spotlighting Canadians. It was bizarre. Watch the Olympics outside your home country once in your life, it's a very different experience.
During my stay in PEI, I went to the beach, cooked a lot, helped decorate an apartment, saw a few movies, legally drank some dranks, played dominoes, drove a Toyota Corolla, ate a sausage, went to Wal-Mart six times, and so much more.
The beaches are beautiful. I'm a sucker for beaches. What an incredible part of nature. The smell and sound of the ocean is perfect. In the southern part of the island, a lot of beaches are iron-rich and have red sand. Northern beaches tend to be more white. All are beautiful, and I wish I spent more time on them.
We went for a walk one night around low tide.
There was aquatic life all around, especially mussels.
I even saw a starfish.
It was so beautiful. The sand was a little rocky, it took a little getting used to. I went to another beach alone during the day. That was another red sand beach. I was the only one on the entire beach. The only thing I heard was the sound of waves crashing on the shore. I spent the entire day reading on the sand, alternating with floating in the ocean for hours. I didn't have to worry about anyone stealing anything, because I was completely alone.
I felt relaxed. I didn't have any worries. I experienced serenity. I was in my happy place. I think that beach is my happy place. Except that it turned my legs red.
We went to another beach while I was there. Willy's grandma lives around a beach, so we went to visit her. It was a white sand beach comparable to the Caribbean.
That was one of my favorite days of the summer. It's hard to top laying on a gorgeous beach, drinking some legal dranks, and soaking up the sun with one of your good friends.
I think he'd agree.
I stayed in Charlottetown, the biggest city in PEI. By biggest, I mean it's the size of Ithaca. PEI isn't a very big place at all. It had its charm.
If a fish made out of spoons isn't charming, I don't know what is.
Charlottetown is definitely a place that tourists flock to. PEI's famous for being the setting of Anne of Green Gables, and the town plays on that. There are shops just dedicated to that storyline. There are also restaurants serving seafood, especially oysters and mussels.
I also became particularly close with a dog named Casey. Like every dog on PEI, he is a Golden Retriever. He enjoys cuddling, long walks on the beach, watching me wash dishes, and posing for the camera.
"Casey, pose." This is his response.
I wish I could have stayed in PEI longer. Just for the beaches. They're really beautiful. Maybe I'll go back someday. Who knows...
Phase 3: Heading Home
On my last day, my friend drove me over the bridge and through the woods of New Brunswick to the Moncton airport. My return trip didn't have much cushion, and I was relying on a window of 30 minutes to get to my bus upon arrival in Toronto. I manage to not fall up the stairs I fell down earlier in the week, and successfully go through security. It was then that I was notified that my flight was delayed by an hour.
It was then that I realized I was going to miss my bus home, the last bus that was leaving Toronto for the night.
Well, stab me in the eye with a butterknife.
I hope that the flight goes fast and maybe, just maybe, I'll make the bus. I get on the plane and we take off. The sun begins to set. I've never seen anything like it. A limitless sunset. Watching the sun set in a plane was such a beautiful sight. I wish I snapped a picture of it, but my neighbor was being a hater. I tried to find a video on YouTube.
That video doesn't do it justice. Just...take a flight in the evening and let me know what you think.
I landed into Toronto at 10:45pm. My bus was scheduled to leave at 10:50. I had a strange suspicion that I wouldn't be making it. A eerie sense of calm washed over me, and I accepted that I'd be spending the night in Toronto. After all, my trip getting to PEI was rough. Why wouldn't the trip back?
I get out of the airport and call for a cab. It's 11:00pm and I have him take me to the bus station so I can get another ticket. I get there and explain that my flight caused me to miss my bus. They gave me a discounted ticket that left for Syracuse at 6:00. I had seven hours to kill in Toronto. I asked if there were any places that were open 24-hours and had internet. The answer: Tim Hortons. The lady gives me directions to the Canadian version of Dunkin Donuts and I'm on my way.
I get to Timmy's and it looks like there are a lot of people with the same predicament so I felt safe. I bought a mocha and mentally prepared to pull an all-nighter. I had a few interesting interactions with some local character that night.
Hobo #1:
I was about an hour into my stay at Tim Hortons. I was probably doing a Sudoku puzzle when a group of young boys walk in. They appear as if they are regulars at the shop. The leader is chatting it up with the cashier. They look like they're in a construction gang of some sort, covered in dirt and wearing cutoff jeans. The leader approaches me shortly after making his order. This guy was harmless, by the way. Like most Canadians I've encountered.
Hobo 1: Excuse me, but what's a girl like you sitting alone in here this late at night?
Me: I missed my bus to go home, so I'm just waiting here until the next bus comes.
Hobo 1: Oh man, that sucks. Where are you from?
Me: Syracuse, NY.
Hobo 1: So you're AMERICAN?!
Me: Yeah, I guess.
Hobo 1: I was born in America. My dad's from Toronto and my Mom's from Michigan. They met up, had me, and my dad ditched us. I moved to Toronto because my mom's an idiot and I wanted to find my father.
Me: Umm...cool. Did you end up finding your dad?
Hobo 1: Yeah, I did. I'm living on the streets and stuff because his house is too crowded but if I ever need a meal or something he's down for that.
Me: I'm glad you're happy. Sounds like you are.
Hobo 1: Yeah, I am. Well, I should get going. Have a safe trip home.
Me: Um, okay. Thanks. Good luck with your life...[trails off]
I can't even make this up. What IS IT about me that people (especially Canadians) find me so approachable?
So true. [troll.me]
I chugged the rest of my mocha and hoped that would be my only conversation I would have until I got home. I was browsing the internet for a few more hours, taking particular attention to Kayne West's tweets that night. I took a screenshot of them because they were so ridiculous.
What? IS THERE ANYTHING YOU DON'T HATE, KANYE?! [twitter]
It was around 3am. I was getting really tired and I figured I would make the trek to the bus station. I thought that if I was going to fall asleep anywhere, it should be at the bus station. That way, I could just wake up and hop on the bus, instead of running down the block and missing ANOTHER bus. I was about to head out into the streets when I had a realization. Here I am, a woman (Amazonian, but a woman nonetheless). I was carrying most of my precious material possessions on my back and also had rolling luggage. It was early in the morning and I was in a huge city. The potential of getting robbed seemed high, and I didn't want to take any chances. I looked around Timmy's to see what I could use as a weapon. The most obvious weapon was the cutlery. But let's be honest here. Someone tries to rob me and I whip out a plastic knife on their ass. They'd laugh. It would justify the robbery at that point.
So I used my mind. I thought creatively. My options were limited and I had to stretch my imagination. I looked around the restaurant and it dawned on me.
Hot tea.
It's cheap, it comes in all sizes, and it would make the perfect weapon. Name someone that would ever want boiling water splashed on their face. I bet you can't even think of one. I sure can't. I ordered the XL Hot Tea. I wasn't playing games here.
24 ounces of PAAAAIIINNNN. [wordpress]
I fixed the tea the way I drink it, figuring if I don't need to use it as a weapon that it would make a lovely beverage. I put on my backpack and headed out into the wilderness.
I'm walking down the road and a lady-hobo stops me.
Hobo #2:
I'm about half-way to the bus station from Timmy's.
Hobo 2: Hey, honey.
Me: Can I help you?
Hobo 2: You got a cig?
Me: No, sorry.
Hobo 2: GAAAHHH. [runs down street]
Oh my. Remind me to never smoke cigarettes. They turn you into a crazy person.
I get to the bus station and all of the lights are off. TELL me they're closed. I go to the man running a street meat stand and ask him why the doors are all locked. He said the bus station won't open until 5:30am. I screamed to the heavens, almost spilling my tea/weapon. I thanked him for his time and turned to go to Timmy's for a few more hours.
I was walking down the street when I heard someone yell. "Ma''''aaaaammmmm!!"
I kept walking, ignoring the voice.
"Ma'aaammmmmmmm!!!!"
I ignored it. I heard fast-moving footsteps behind me. This guy was running to catch up to me. I grasped the tea a little tighter, ready to splash it in his face. He caught up to me, out of breath.
Hobo #3:
Hobo 3: Sorry ma'am. I was just wonderin' if you had a light. I have a cigarette but I ain't got no light.
Me: No, sorry. I don't.
Hobo 3: That's okay. Hey, what's a girl like you doing out on the streets so early?
Me: My bus to go home leaves in a few hours. Looks like the station's closed.
Hobo 3: Where you from?
Me: Syracuse, NY.
Hobo 3: Ohhh, so you're AMERICAN?!
Me: Yeah, I'm American.
Hobo 3: Cool, cool. So do you got a husband?
Me: [what?] No...
Hobo 3: You got a boyfriend?
Me: No, not at the moment.
Hobo 3: Girl, why you single?
Me: If I knew, I'd tell you.
Hobo 3: Damn. Being single ain't fun. I just got out of a relationship. That was rough.
Me: I'm sorry about that. Are you okay?
Hobo 3: Yeah, I'll be fine. She was Spanish. She was just a great woman. Loved her. [whips out his phone to show me a picture]
Me: It hurts now, but I'm sure everything will work out for the best.
Hobo 3: I know. You know, you're a cool chick. [initiates handshake]
Tangent: It is at this point that the hobo attempts to create a handshake with me. We do a handshake, then move our hands to almost do a thumb war, and then he makes a yin and yang out of our hands. It was wild. See the diagram below.
[themustangsource.com]
After our handshake, we parted ways. I got back to Tim Hortons, drank my tea, and kept browsing the eternal abyss of the internet. I was playing my iPod, so I couldn't hear much. I was also focused on my computer activities, so I wasn't paying much attention to what was happening around me. I felt a tap on my table and looked up to see an elderly man staring at me. It was 5:00am.
I didn't have a conversation with the man, mostly because he is deaf. He was going to every table and trying to sell deaf handbooks. They were little slips of paper that contained hands doing American Sign Language. I gave him a quarter and he went on his merry way. Best purchase ever. With that nifty guide, I can sign every letter, the days of the week, and basic conversational phrases!
Score.
The sun was beginning to rise and it was time for me to go catch my bus. I refill my hot tea and journey back to the station once more. I get there, get in line for the bus, and head home. The rest of the trip was spent sleeping.
