Road Trip, Bitches!

There’s no embellishment when I say it’s been a looooong fucking time since adding a segment to the Adventure category of this stupid-ass blog, so I’ve decided to document the trials and tribulations of driving from Goderich, Ontario to the suck-ass town of Winnipeg, where I’ll be attending my kid’s glorious triumph of marrying the woman he loves.

I’ve got plenty o’ time to get there, as the wedding’s on Sunday, and today is only into the last throes of Thursday. But once I hit the road, the madness of reaching my goal tends to overtake my common sense, which usually means driving an unnecessary 12 hours a day to get to where I want to be.

Hey, Mike, relax, enjoy the journey, stupid!

Yeah, yeah, I know, shut the fuck up Mike, I’ll do what I wanna do, bitch!

My brain doesn’t really have a half-assed mode, unless I ply it with various amounts of drugs and alcohol. Even after a 15-hour shift at my soul-numbing slave-job working as a flunky sous chef, I tend to be running circles around my douchebag cohorts who are incessantly whining about how tired they are after their piddly 5-hour shift that they mostly spent fucking the Benmiller dog in it’s gaping ass.

But nevermind that.

I don’t have a lot of time to get these notes down, as I want to grab some Z’s and hit the road early again, so let’s quickly muddle through the highlights of the journey so far…

Fuck, I’m way to verbose. I want to write a shitload of subtle details, and I want to add images, but time is a factor here — I’ll edit the visuals in later. So if you’re a subscriber, sorry loser, this is just gonna be text, with nothing to distract your brain from actually reading without a random stupid meme to break up the print. Also, love you!

The first noteworthy observation was a quick stop in Espanola to get some gas and grab a cup o’ joe. I decided to walk into the Tim Horton/Wendy’s structure instead of going through the drive-thru, as I thought it would be a more efficient process than dealing with the parade of cars rolling off the highway, and I needed to stretch my stumpy legs as well.

Holy fuck, I couldn’t have been more incorrect.

There’s something about cruising through rest stops in Northern Ontario that I love — it’s the friendly faces and cordial demeanour of the punk-ass teenagers, and elderly alike, who work their shitty, minimum-wage gigs because they either have dreams of moving to the big city, or they’re just content to find their niche living in a small town, earning enough fake plastic dollars to fund them through whatever goals and/or acceptance in the life path they’ve chosen.

The Tim Horton building was NOT that.

Good fucking god, it was so fucking NOT!

I want to be clear here that I’m not some racist asshole who gets bent out of shape when the local gas station/pizza place/convenience store/coffee shop is systematically bought out by “entrepreneurs” who weren’t born in this country. Kudos to you for being ambitious. My fucking problem with these assholes is that they treat me like I’ve done something wrong if I want to say hi, make small talk, smile, or say anything that doesn’t involve getting the fuck out of their face as quickly as possible — they seem offended by the very fact I have the audacity to use their service.

No words, no eye-contact, no basic humanity. Just pay for your gas and get the fuck out, you white-devil cunt…

That was the basic experience in the Espanola Timmy’s, and I surmise the Indian family owned the Wendy’s side as well, because not one local kid making student wage was in sight, just a group of pissed off humans, speaking broken English, who seemed seriously angry that I even dared to order a coffee, which ultimately took ten minutes to receive, because Lakshme couldn’t pour it himself, he had to assign my name Nike — not Mike, Nike — to a computer screen that gave me a fucking waiting time behind all the other cunts on some third world tour bus who ordered bagels and donuts and shit without onions that needed to be serviced sequentially.

Also, I came within 3 feet of slamming into a moose that was the size Godzilla, no embellishment.

So I decided to park, and wrote this.

Day 2 tomorrow, see you then…