chasing rabbits stateside

The following day started with a leisurely morning during which time John took me out on his rowing boat and taught me how to fly fish. Neither of us had any intention of catching anything, but the action of casting and reeling in over and over again is actually quite theraputic. At lunch time we took our places outside the house for the second parade of the weekend (this town sure knows how to party). This time large numbers of John’s family joined us and I realised how big a community event this was.

This time marching bands were included, some in historical (or is that hysterical) costumes playing Yankee Doodle Dandy, bagpipes played and brought a tear to my eye (!). I have never seen such ill fitting uniforms, too narrow, too short, too big, too long) teenage boys that looked desperately bored, a couple looked like they couldn’t even spell fire let alone put one out. A few were led by motorcyclists (the ‘dykes on bikes’ as I referred to them). I do wonder what the various ‘Ladies Auxilliary Units’ do, or they merely cooks, bottle washers and laundry maids. I did feel sorry for them, the heat was crippling me and I was sat in a sun lounger with a beer in my hand. I’m sure they do a great job and I shoudn’t be so cruel, but it was wonderful entertainment.

The other entertainment of the day was a game called ‘how are you related to John?’. John’s family is more like a spider graph than an easy to follow family tree (although most modern families are like that these days it seems) with numerous exes, step siblings and newly weds (for those of you having a minor panic, he won’t mind me saying all of this). They were lovely and welcoming, but I did give up trying to figure out who they all were when after I asked someone how he was related to one woman “that’s my mother” – nothing was simple, names became my only concern.

Then, all too quickly, it was time to leave and start my somewhat protracted journey home. I had to fly form the east coast to the west in order to go east again. The following 3 days looked like this:
Albany to Chicago to Seattle (day 1)
Drive to Vancouver (day 2)
Vancouver to Chicago to Manchester (day 3)
Please bear in mind that 5 days earlier I had flown from Seattle to Chicago to Albany. I’m far too familiar with Chicago O’Hare Airport and my right rib cage will tell you that Seattle airport benches are not a good place to spend the night. I am, without doubt, a seasoned traveller within the US, and although travelling by plane is far more comfortable, going by Greyhound was far more interesting, challenging and more of an opportunity for personal growth (I know, I sound like I’m talking out of my plane shaped arse, but it’s true). However, that said, I’ll still snatch the plane ticket out of your hand just because it speeds up the whole process.

posted by KP @ 12:07 AM