[In an attempt to expand his insular perspective, Rendar Frankenstein became An American in Canada! Join Rendar as he tells of the wonders encountered while traveling through North America’s most jovial nation. It’s one-third travel guide and three-fourths misguided interpretation!]
In the seven hours I’d spent on the road since leaving Boston, I hadn’t had any problems.
Which is really astounding, given the fact that I seem to be a real shit-magnet when it comes to travel plans. If an airline baggage handler finally decides to express his displeasure at the fact that his boyfriend left him three years ago for a younger man, it’s my bag that’s getting pissed on and thrown on the wrong plane. If the terror alert goes from beige to cyan, it’s the very day I’m hopping on a transcontinental train. And if my iPod is going to die, it’s going to be right when the elderly couple I’m sitting next to on the bus decides to discuss their love of vomit-sex.
But it’d been seven hours of open road and blue-sky optimism. Hell, I even got through customs without any trouble. Actually, that was pretty easy – I just gave a fake name (Rendar Frankenstein raises eyebrows) and told the guy I was on vacation. Ha! He didn’t even suspect that I was going to be looking under his country’s fingernails for the cultural dirt!
Anyways, I was cruisin’ along New Brunswick’s highways, taking in the wonderful scenery – no doubt modeled after Middle Earth – when I saw a sign that made me gasp. The posting shouldn’t’ve been a revelation, as it was just another bit of standard freeway fare. But in my excitement to venture forth into alien territory, any thought of such a sign or its implication had slipped my mind.
Nevertheless, there it was: TOLL AHEAD.
Which was no problem, aside from the fact that I didn’t have any Canadian cash!
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