Epilogue
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The Days after That.

Days have passed. For the most part I've simply hung out. We visited Jason and Mel and played a new game system Wyatt and I are developing called Cold Fusion. Aside from that, nothing much.

Getting my stuff back was a pain, though. My knapsack was sent to Quebec City by mistake, and it took me over a week to finally get it. My bike as well got almost lost because it is listed as a bike box, but is only 1/3 the size due to the removal of the seat and rear wheel. Eventually, I got everything intact and unbroken.

The reunion I hoped for has happened. Ilan's Aunty (who hates being called Aunt because that is something you step on) hosted a celebration for his return with Shannon. They, in turn, invited myself, Erin, Linda, and Bruce (the guy they met on the way to St. John's) along as well. We stayed until the wee hours of the morning comparing interesting or disastrous stories and adventures. Each of us had something to outdo the other with on one subject or another. And, hey, the deserts were great, too!

In the past few days I've taken up drawing again. It's something I do on and off every one in a while, but this time I think it will stick. I've decided to go with the Manga style (that is, Japanese quasi realistic cartoons) since it looks good, and is simple at the same time. Right now I'm only working on heads, and man I'm having a lot of trouble with hair!

My flight to Vancouver leaves on Monday morning from Buffalo, and it turns out there are buses leaving from Toronto to Buffalo for only 25 bucks. So it looks like there will be no farewell scene at the airport for me. Oh well.

The one main theme of this trip has been this: every time something bad happens, something good happens shortly thereafter. The ride to Buffalo was no different. I was told twice that my bike box would be no problem, even when I bought the ticket. Only once I tried to get the box in the bus, the luggage handler told me it wasn't allowed, it was too big. He called the customer service lady, whom, to my regret, I treated less than politely (I was nice for the first thirty seconds, but then it became clear that she was only going to repeat the same thing over and over again. I thought the semi-hostile approach might have got things moving. Wrong.)

So here I am feeling utterly screwed. I was told twice the bike was good to go, then when I get there, ticket in hand, I'm told emphatically "no!". So it looks like I'm going to have to bus the bike home, at a cost of probably a hundred bucks or so. I'm not liking this one bit. However, there is one person left to talk to... the bus driver. In the end, he has final say.

A few moments of explanation and sweet talking yielded the appropriate results. Lucky for me he was a really nice guy to begin with. So in the end the bike joined me on the way to Buffalo.

The reason for the bus driver's kindness eventually became clear. He's a cyclist as well, and have done a number of tours, marathons, and even Iron Man competitions in the past. During the delay at the border crossing we talked about recumbent bikes and cycling, he's anxious to see my article in the Globe, since his neighbor gets it regularly and would have yesterday's issue.

In Buffalo, I was at first going to wait the two hours, but soon became restless and walked downtown instead. Buffalo is as dead as Calgary on a Sunday! However, eventually my ear picked up some music, and eventually (after passing a small motorcycle biker benefit) I found a huge downtown concert. The hub was at an intersection not too far from downtown and at the end of each street was a live band playing, so four bands playing just far enough away from each other to not drown one another out. There was food and gift stands set up everywhere, as well as radio station coverage. Pretty cool!

The Canadian buck goes nowhere here. 10 bucks got me 6, and my shuttle ticket was nearly 3. That left me enough for a small slice of pizza and a buck left over.

The airport wait was a pain. Twelve hours with nothing to do, and I spent 20 Canadian with little to show for it but some chicken sandwiches, a juice, and cookies. I tried to sleep, and almost succeeded once, but to no real avail. Talking to Gillian and Grandma only helped so much, and I didn't really feel like reading or writing. So I battled boredom in my own way. I rode around in a wheelchair all night.

As I suspected, my trials and tribulations had not yet come to an end. It turned out that they were going to charge me $75 (US) to ship my bike!!!! I've never had this problem with Canadian before! Worse still, I only had 20 buck in Canuck money on me! They wouldn't ship it and charge me when I picked it up, either. And nobody could find a way around the regs. On top of this, it's only 5 in the morning, I don't have enough money on my bank card, and no bank anywhere is open for Grandma or Wyatt to rush a deposit into. I don't use credit cards (the only time I've ever regretted that). Plus the only place that could ship it for me in which I could pay to pick it up instead doesn't open till 6am, ten minutes after I leave! Worst of all, it was my own damn fault, I assumed that since Canadian Airlines hadn't charged, neither would American! I should have checked first! But a lot of damn good that did me now!

Does the term SCREWED come to mind?

But, as it always is, salvation wasn't too far away. A couple who were dropping off their daughter (on her way to teach in Barbados) asked me about the bike and if I was starting a big trip.

I explained the whole situation, and they offered to pay the fee. At first I was hesitant of this, last Christmas I was conned out of forty bucks by a guy in a similar situation, claiming to need it to get back to England since he had tickets but nothing to pay for the various airport fees or the taxi there. I was pretty sure it was a con, but it was a good one, and I was in such a good mood I didn't really care. I considered it a christmas present, one way or the other.

Anyways, I felt bad because I didn't want them to think I was conning them. However, as soon as they offered to use their credit card, I was relieved. After all, that would be proof that the money went where it was supposed to.

But still, it's 75 bucks American! That's about 125 Canadian! Oh man, I hate to think of having to pay that sucker off...

But at least I didn't have to ditch a $1300 bike!

By the way, I sat next to the daughter of the family that helped me and we chatted it up during the flight. The plane I'm on it a tiny SAAB two prop plane that seats maybe forty people tops. The flight from Buffalo to New York takes about an hour and a half.

The next leg of the journey was a little nicer. On a 757 it took about 6 hours to get to Vancouver. The movie I had seen before on the ferry to St. John's (Where the Money Is), and so I spent five of the six hours finally getting some sleep! The food wasn't half bad, either (salsa omelette with Canadian bacon and a nice warm doughy bun). When I wake, we're crossing over the Okanagan valley, it's just plain sick how fast we're traveling. It took me over three months to cross the country, now it's only taking six hours to get most of the way back.

The best thing that's happened to me so far is that Customs gave me no grief. But the ferry refused to carry my bike or my knapsack!!! They only take bags and hard luggage. My bike is considered cargo, and they don't accept framed knapsacks. Then when I got to the proper berth to wait for the ferry, they tell me they've changed it at the last minute. Sheesh!

ARRRRRGH! Fate just needed one last pain in the back to give me. Of course, it's not over yet, I still have to get from the ferry.

The ferry did not sink.

After an hour wait, Gillian's old friend Kasha picked me up, and within an hour I arrived at the apartment. It's a new place, larger, nicer than the apartment before, but nothing of mine in sight. It's all in boxes. I'm still not home yet.

Ten minutes later Gillian got home from school, and the first thing I do is kiss her hard for a full minute.

Home at last.



THE END