
Yeah! Where's the whiskey?!?!?!!
...what time is it again?
Here we are. Here's Viki's "here we are" article.
We got searched at the border. I knew from the beginning that the customs officer had it out for us. I mean, he said "bonjour" for Chrissake, and didn't even bother to smile. My car was violated in ways I never imagined, from which I'll never recover. I was interrogated by the most Canadian-sounding Canadians I've ever met. Except maybe my Nan.
No other nonwhites in the waiting area. There were three Arabs, one black American, two Africans, an Asian boy (my friend Mike, who hitched a ride with us to visit his friend in London), myself (ethnically Ukrainian...bigots...) and Viki (an innocent Irish-looking bystander). The American guy said he'd been in the waiting room for more than two hours. We were served after ten, maybe fifteen, minutes.
I'm paying for wireless. We raised hell at the desk in hopes that we'll get a refund to this effect.
Parking dubious. I have to get up before eight to feed the metre. We're moving to the Holiday Inn as soon as we're sober.
We're going out. We're going out. We went out. Now we're back. Who's drinking?
Oh, and Frank made it, too.
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