I probably couldn't handle jet lag. I can't even handle bus lag.
Spent the weekend in Florenceville, NB... and for a toddlin' li'l town there was a go-go-go kinda atmosphere... in the best of all possible ways, mind you.
Worked 'til 5pm on Saturday then raced around returning/renting movies, checking e-mail for possible (and, unfortunately, actual) store cock-ups to affect my inner peace, and peeling through Harvey's for an on-the-run dinner of buffalo chicken and poutine... just want you want in prep for an extended period of sitting down.
The bus atmosphere was dominated by a "sweatshirt mom"... a term I've come to apply to young women who have fairly obviously unplanned pregnancies and are coping with the stress of taking care of a little human and losing their figure beneath the swath of a ROOTS hoodie... trying to placate her toddler with the fun, fun blue lights of her cell phone. I didn't think it possible for children to burst into tears more than 4 time per minute, but this little guy proved me wrong. At the front... sittling in the aisle to the left of the bus driver... was a gentleman in his 50s who, apparently from the unavoidably overheard conversation, worked with the driver's son on a road construction crew. The gentleman, you see, spoke loudly in a manner one assumes has everything to do with working around heavy machinery every day for 30 years. Ergo I've learned of the plans for a: NEW BRIDGE IN FLORENCEVILLE BECAUSE THE OLD ONE IS NO GOOD... CROOKED, and later projects such as going to Fort McMurray in BC to: CHANGE A RIVER... MAKE IT HIGHER... ON THE BANKS... FOR THE LEVEL. Yeah.
Florenceville itself was punctuated by three meals, two by invitation at other folks' houses and one just with Mandy and I trying out a page from the American Sandwich book...
...we made the Conneticut offering... a Cobb Chicken Salad Wrap with a side of Men's Favourite Coleslaw and Fried Sweet Potatoes... both adapted from recipes in an anniversary edition of Gourmet magazine (sorry Mandy, I forget the actual name of the potato dish).
This morning we made a little trip into Houlton to an Organic cafe and a book sale at Marden's (kind of a clearing house for liquidated goods from other retail stores). Had some good coffee, a panini and found cheap fiction from Chuch Palahniuk, Denis Johnston and Jonathan Lethem, amongst others.
We headed back to Woodstock where I had to catch the bus to come back to Fredericton in time... well, actually, about a half hour late... for work tonight. As we arrived at the Irving in Woodstock we saw that the bus had already pulled in and was unpacking it's mail so we parked quickity split and I grabbed my bags and waited to board... bidding Mandy a fond adieu.
Now it's important to note at this point that my bus ticket was a round trip to Fredericton-Florenceville/Florenceville-Fredericton.
I got on the bus and installed my headphones... though it seemed like a much quieter crowd... and planned a drowsy hour and a half of music filled relaxation on the way to F'ton. As I occasionally opened my eyes and glanced out the window at the sun-gilded fields dappled with snow coasting by I had an uneasy feeling... something not out of place at any time during bus travel. I couldn't quite pinpoint the reasons for the uneasiness so I let the feeling go. It wasn't until 10-15 minutes later that I realized what this uneasiness was borne of: I was on the wrong bus. This became evident as I spied the Hartland bridge (longest covered etc.) coming up in the distance... a site I should be leaving behind.
What happened was I hadn't checked the actual departure time of the bus from Woodstock for Fredericton... simply assumed, bus here... get on bus... go vroom. This was the bus that had just left Fredericton and was on it's way to Montreal. The driver seeing Florenceville on my ticket (though as a departure point instead of an arrival) blanked and let me on despite the oppositeness of our paths. When I brought this to his attention at the Hartland Irving he looked not so much peeved as indifferent... but I managed to get my original ticket back from him with an agreement to drop me back off in Florenceville where I planned to try the whole thing again the next morning... figuring I could call and once Dana and Vickie were done laughing at me they could close the lab up, given it's March break and traffic is light. Much to my surprise the driver radioed ahead to the bus I was actually supposed to be on and the two met across the highway between Flo-ville and H-land. I sheepishly crossed over and sat my ass down and headed East... young man.
Tonight's track is from the CD I listened to in an effort to give audience to my chaos... a brand new, 2006 release on Temporary Residence records by a duo called The Ladies made up of Zach, the drummer from Hella and Rob Crow the singer/writer/guitarist/bassist from Pinback and many many earlier projects. The song's title is a tip of the hat to the unseated best picture of the year, Brokeback Mountain.
Nice Chaps, Buddy
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