Terrors Of The North

Ah, winter in the Canadian Maritimes. Two warm ( in the forties F) days followed by a freakin' blizzard. And wouldn't you know the day of my flight back to terra cognita would be the thick of the aftermath: roads half- plowed and a third salted; airlines canceling flights with a relish; hour long waits on hold for customer service. There is nothing 'Jazzy' that I can see about my carrier.

Good thing this trip was for work and not vacation...

Before the turmoil of last minute trip-rescue calls, some heated and some pleading, there were pleasures:

Moncton, New Brunswick is lovely in the snow; and there are more good restaurants and pubs than you might expect for a city of its size.

And one amusing irritation:

It seems there's a youth hockey league tournament in town this weekend; on Friday night my hotel filled with hordes of Little Gretsky's rampaging about the floors and clogging the elevator. And of course they brought their entire families with them - it's not often you see so many groggy people in pajamas at the breakfast buffet.

Still, they say travel broadens the mind. This may be so, but I think next time I need to come here, I'll drive over from Halifax or even from Montreal. There are limits to how much broadening a person can stand ...

Epilogue, Los Angeles:

Sometime during the last day or so in NB, I was exposed to a nasty gastrointestinal bug that knocked me down and out for the worst part of a week upon my return home. I remembered reading, in The Globe and Mail when I arrived in Canada, about an outbreak among Canadians returning from Mexico. Trust the snowbirds for being Patient Zero in my personal playing of Contagion.

Pissin' and Missin'

It's not everyday you witness a metaphor for shameless incompetence and arrogant disregard as apropos as that splattering pool of pee arrayed at the base of every urinal in every men's restroom in every airport in the world. You'd think we were all going in the dark, half-asleep. Either that or the restrooms had been used by zombie hordes to relieve themselves after a hard night's lurch. And neither we nor the zombies gave a damn about who came later or who had to clean up.

I can't say for certain the worst offenders are natural politicians, but it wouldn't surprise me if they were. Who else are so wiener-centric but unable to hit the mark? And who wouldn't characterize the GOP primaries as a pissing contest with lots of errant spraying? (A contest also with at least a couple of zombies.)

But I believe this is the curse of our times - to be governed by inaccurate and unconcerned types, who whizz blithely into the wind, and when things get wet and smelly blame the wind.

A more disturbing image hit the news recently, in the form of a photo showing US soldiers peeing on the corpses of their slain enemies. It occurred to me, viewing the photo, that collateral human damage in our war on terror is the inevitable consequence of old men Pissin' and Missin', only the splatters are blood.

So, Welcome to 2012! (Here's hoping we acquire better aim, or a good janitor shows up.)