Festooned with neon blue LED lights, one the shape of a peace sign, was the house of a little man who watches Jon Stewart naked.
I say this privileged to not have seen the man with a tattoo of a woman on his right shoulder pop up nude from his viewing chair after three strangers mistook his house for that of the hostel.
“I’ll show you where the hostel is. Do I need pants for this?” He rhetorically asked. Then decided his boxers would suffice.
So concluded our first day of our 6 days on the road to find out. The clouds parted midday as we departed Chicago and it was clear trippin’ all the way until our run-in with border control.
With Michelle “I’m incapable of lying” at the wheel, we were doomed when greeted by the surly border agent. Her usually infectious enthusiasm for life was only greeted with more questions. No, my two female friends were not smuggling me into Canada. No, we didn’t have alcohol in the car. He asked this question multiple times. I suspect he questioned why two women would be traveling avec moi voluntarily. “Surely he must be providing them with alcohol,” his logic might go. And no, we are not interested in the booming maple syrup trade in Canada.
But I would’ve really liked that first stamp in my passport. Alas, that’s how I started one of hopefully many international adventures.
The drive went well and we discovered that I can tell stories for roughly 9 hours straight. Pausing only to urinate.
We crossed the border twice yesterday as we slept back home in the states at a hostel. This trip has begun with many superlatives: first time out of the country, longest distance traveled, longest time in the car, first hostel, first run in with bed bugs (one can only hope)!
Later today we go to observe the marvel of Niagara Falls. Step by step. Inch by inch. After, we head back into Canada, the land of international roaming, for a stint in a yurt and taking in all nature’s bounty before discovering Toronto.