Victoria Day (Canada); May 2015
The bestie and co. are going to be here for the Canadian long weekend –Victoria Day. I have tons of things planned out.
They get home early Friday morning and the living room transforms into a makeshift campground. Since we don’t have enough bedding, they are carrying a couple of sleeping bags which completes the camp look. The best part of being besties is you know you can leave her at home and she’ll figure it out. No worries!
While we slog at work, the bestie and co. have a field day in the city. We catch up drinks for at home. By the time we head out it’s too late to go anyplace fancy so we hop over to 53rd and 6th for some chicken over rice at the Halal Guys. While the rest stay in line, the bestie and I head over to the LOVE sculpture. It’s so strange; I must have walked by it a hundred times but never noticed it. When we get back we see poor J and P have smoke coming out of their ears. J’s eyes are streaming but he is manfully shoving spoonfuls of rice into his mouth. I give the husband a reproachful look. “I warned him”, he shrugs. J nods, “He did. Another girl saw me putting so much red sauce and she also told me I’m crazy. I only didn’t listen!” The next morning our pot was subjected to considerable torture, as all that Indian pride was flushed down, multiple times. Our kitchen on the other hand received some TLC. While we slept in our beds, the bestie unable to bear the sight of dishes in the sink had unloaded the dishwasher, put way everything and loaded the dishwasher as well.
Today we are off to Atlantic City. Atlantic City is no Vegas, but it is great fun. We catch up with a few more Canadians at a casino and roll. Mr. R staunchly refuses to gamble. The rest of us make our way to our favourite games. The Canadians choose slot machines; the husband blackjack; I play roulette. There is something I find incredibly fascinating about roulette. The piles of coins on the table; the whirring of the roulette; the black and red blur; the collective intake of breath as the white ball bounces tak tak tak and stops. The magic of the game has soon ensnared the Canadians, while the husband and I have learnt to order free drinks at the slot machines. The bestie and I get a crash course in craps, and almost get booted from the table for saying the number “seven”; twice. At the end of the evening we are mostly richer, a little poorer and in all very happy!
The drive back is just as exciting. Everyone in our car missed the fun, but the bestie who is awake in the other car keeps calling to let us know that we look like we are racing in a video game. At one point she claims we almost went off a bridge. That sure is a lot of excitement we missed!
Sunday is comedy night! The Canadians have booked us for a stand-up comedy show. I am always fascinated by how much this city has to offer. Each time we have visitors, we end up doing something we haven’t done before. Sometimes it’s something like a stand-up comedy; something we keep thinking of doing but never get around to it. After the show we headed to Ellen’s Stardust Diner to catch up with friends for dinner. This is the bestie’s only demand on this trip. We’ve been here before. The food is strictly okay, but the performances by the wait staff are superlative. Did I mention, the wait staff are all aspiring Broadway singers and actors? Monday bullies us into getting back home, but the Canadians, who have no such cares this weekend, head out to meet yet more friends. We have no clue when they got back home.
Three days have flown by! It’s time to say till we meet again. USA and Canada have settled scores. We paid a hefty sum for parking there and poor Mr. R got a ticket here. We made money at the casino in Montreal; they made money at Atlantic City. The husband had an upset stomach there; they had their share of abdominal woes here. We are going to miss this crazy bunch!
The birds have flown, and the house now seems so empty. The bedding is still lying on the floor and the living room wears the look of a deserted camp. As a parting gift, the bestie has loaded the dishwasher again. The husband is afraid I’m going to get used to an empty sink and nag him over it.
Come back soon Rolz – he’s not going to do it!!