shitona stick
Murray in Prince George, B.C., Canada
04/08/2000
You probably have no idea who the hell I am, which isn't necessarily a bad thing. I live on the West Coast, and for arguments sake I will say that I reside in Vancouver, BC Canada (yes, the same place they filmed the X-Files) as no one knows where the hell Victoria is. Doug (aka fresh, DJ9D) and I grew up together, and he is my best friend. We often trade off amusing adventures, and I look forward to our end of week phone calls, where he is barely holding onto reality, as the countless chronics consumed over the past week cause him to sweat. I digress.... I am moving up north (ya, even in Canada we say that) to UNBC, which is located in Prince George, approximately 900km north of Vancouver. I am taking the graduate counseling program, and doing a bit of T.Aing as well. Now, the drive takes about 10 hours, as you weave through all sorts of canyons and mountainous terrain. The only things keeping myself and traveling companions awake were copious amounts of smoking, and ridiculously loud Swedish death metal (surprisingly refreshing for a hangover). After a few hours driving, we pulled into the Subway in Quesnel. I figured what better place to talk to the locals and find out where the liquor store is located in this shithole. As soon as I cracked the door open, every eye in the place fell on me. The closer I got to the counter, the wider the sandwich artists' smile became. It was then that she said "You look really familiar. What band are you in?" I tried not to smile, and went over my options-- Platinum Blonde, Kajagoogoo, Bon Jovi? I decided to cut her a break, and told her I was just a country bumpkin looking for the jar store. She smiled and said "oh well, nice hair though." On the way out, I checked out my salad in the mirror--it was sticking straight out in all directions-the result of 5 hours driving w/all the windows down---it looked totally sharp. Prince George is a pleasant mix of Loggers, Tree planters, Rednecks and Aryan Youth. On the Saturday, I checked into the Prince George Hotel. I couldn't find the front desk, until some guy sitting in the lobby w/ a warm can of Lucky told me that the beer store WAS the front desk--totally sweet. So, I took the guys lead, and took a warm 6er of Lucky up to my room. The highlight of the trip happened that night coming back from many drinks at the Ironhorse. Included in the P.G. Hotel is one of the roughest bars in the north, the Roadhouse (and no, Patrick Swayze was nowhere to be seen). Ken you would love this place. Anyhow, as I was walking towards the stairs, this well dressed woman was on her way out of the Roadhouse. I saw her looking me up and down, and when she got beside me, she looked me right in the face and said "you look like a cocksucker!!!!!" If only I had a tape recorder on me. Stay tuned for the finale of this story, which includes Doug and I cruising the back roads of BC in a beatup 1981 Ford F-350, Ronnie James Dio tour shirts on, and ACDC on the stereo (or perhaps Maiden, Doug?). Later y'all.
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