automaticable

Over spring break, my friends and I took a road trip to Toronto, Ontario. It was a 9-hour car ride each way, but we saw red barns, Crabby Joe’s, maple buds, flannel, drag queens, crazy hot dogs, Niagra Falls, and much, much more. The entire trip was a little under 60 hours, but it was a whole lot of fun. For my first trip to Canada, I’d say we had quite the experience. I’m going to break the trip into a series of posts– this one appropriately part “eh” (that’s pronounced “A”, for you Americans). Keep reading for the juicy details.

Saturday

We all came home for spring break on Friday evening, and we were ready to depart again Saturday afternoon. The four of us–Sara, Stacy, Pat, and myself–met at my house around 1:30. After some last minute packing and a few games of guitar hero to set to tone, we were ready. We stuffed ourselves into Sara’s car with enough trail mix, goldfish, grapes, and organic Ritz Bits to make journey North.

I drove the first leg of the trip–east from Downers Grove, through Indiana and into Michigan. As you may guess, this is an extraordinary drive with all sorts of exotic scenery on the way. That is, if you consider farm fields and billboards exotic. But we were pumped to be on the road and full of energy. This was the beginning of a 9-hour car ride filled with loud music and crazy antics the whole way.As with all long roadtrips, we established a list of road-games that would persist for the duration of the car ride. The first game was suggested by Sara: Each side of the car was on a team, and counted cows on their side of the road. The goal was to accumulate as many cows as possible. The catch is that whenever you pass a cemetary, all of your cows die. Unfortunate.

We also had a few other games we kept individual scores for. Pat kept a tally for each of us. It was decided that the final scores would represent how many drinks each person needed to take at whatever fine Canadian establishment we went to at the end of the night. The games were:

• The first to guess the playing song’s artist could “give out” 2 points, and naming the title of the song was worth 3. This game is somewhat of a classic in our circle of friends.
• The driver could receive or pass-out points based on changes in the “arrival time” according to the GPS. If we gained a minute, the driver could give a point, and if we lost a minute, he would get a point.
• The first person to spot a red barn could shout “BARN!” and a person’s name to award that person a point. This was inspired by Sara’s roadtrips to Minnesota, where apparently red barns are everywhere. I would say Michigan also had its fair share.
• The first person to point out roadkill could also give out a point. A bonus point could also be award for the first person to identify the roadkill. In most cases, the bonus point wasn’t awarded.

Other various points were awarded for various milestones, such as crossing a state line, or spotting a pair of testicles hanging from a pickup truck. By the end of the 9 hours, each of us had racked up around 120 points. It was bound to be a good night.

Somewhere in the depths of Michigan, Stacy took over the wheel. This gave me a chance to scan the horizon more carefully for red barns, and rest. Around 9:30 or so we finally made it to the Canadian border, as well as our first encounter with a native! Inching our way up to customs, we pulled up next to a pickup that had it’s truck bed open, with groceries in the back. We signaled to roll down the window, and courteously prompted him of the problem. He expressed his gratitude with a modest Canadian accent. We were on our way.

While we were waiting in traffic, I called to check-up on our hostel reservation. We had reserved online, and the correspondence seemed to imply that it was very important that we stick to our declared check-in time, or call ahead. So that’s what I did; I phoned the number for the hostel, and told the clerk we’d be running a few hours late. “Don’t worry about it,” he said, “have a safe trip, eh!” I’m not sure if he actually said “eh,” but it would be a recurring theme for the rest of our trip. Good ‘ole Canada.

When we finally made it to customs, the attendant checked our passports and asked us what we were there for. “To see the University!” we proclaimed. Apparently he didn’t buy it, as he questioned us further about our hometowns and specific return date. Without too much hassle, he let us through and returned our passports. I excitedly opened my passport in search of my first stamp, only to find that none was there! Apparently Canada is too good for passport stamps. This was my first time out of the country with my new passport, and half the reason I went was for the stamp! This was quite the blow. But alas, we trekked onward.Around 11:00 PM or so, it was time to switch drivers and stop for food. We filled up on gas in a small town and asked the station attendant if he knew a good place to eat. The attendant happened to be Korean, and said he was new in town, so he wasn’t sure. He did, however, end his sentence with “eh”–I suppose he was just trying to fit in.

We ended up asking another customer, and he directed us to “Crabby Joe’s”, which happened to be a nice little diner down the road. Excited to be in Canada, (and Sara was excited that 20 is of age in Canada), we decided to have a drink. The waitress had a little trouble finding the birth-date on our Illinois licenses, and must’ve mentioned it to her boss as well. The owner just happened to be from Indiana himself, so came to talk to us. He was very pleasant to talk to, and we learned he was also an engineer (with one of the most impressive business-cards I’ve ever seen). The rest of the meal was pretty tasty, but we were all ready to get back on the road.

The last hour or two of driving was dark and rural, so it was a little quieter. We also crossed over to a new timezone on the way, losing another hour. We finally got into Toronto at around 1:30 AM. We found our hostel in the downtown area, and I went to checkin while Pat found parking. The hostel looked small from the outside, but even smaller once I stepped in.

The door opened into a narrow hallway with stairs going up and down. I peeked around to find a checkin counter, but as I did, a man sitting in a chair in the hallway said, “Scott?” He found our reservation on his laptop and typed a few things before he looked up and said, “It looks like we have a problem.” Despite calling to confirm just hours earlier, our reservation had been given away. He called around to other hostels in the area, but they were all booked. He said he could offer us an apartment outside of the city. Tired, and without ideas, I agreed to follow him to our new lodging.

Lucky for us, Pat was driving, because we had somewhat of a car chase on our hands. We followed the hostel manager through the city, as he sped quickly through side-streets, weaving through traffic. On the express-way, he was travelling at least 20 km/h (yes, kilometers per hour) over the speed limit. About 20 minutes out of the city, we got off the highway. The exit we took had a roadblock, with police checking cars one-by-one for drunk drivers.

We finally got to the apartment building, which ended up being pretty nice. Full kitchen, two bathrooms, two bedrooms, tv– all we could ask for. It seemed like most of the people staying there were permanent residents, so it’s hard to say what kind of shady deal this really was. But, we were tired, and ready to be out of the car. It was late, and our apartment was pretty far outside of the city, so we all decided to crash. Our accumulated points would have to wait for another day.

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