WASHINGTON D. C.

 

 

          Only we could travel to Washington DC and find most of it closed.  But let’s begin at the beginning. . .

 

          It was a long drive north.  We never should have stayed Sunday night in Orlando.  We would have been far better off if we had driven a hundred miles or so that night and gotten us closer to Washington.  The drive was long, hot, hectic, and full of traffic.

 

          Naturally, we stopped at “South of the Border.”  Crystal had never seen it.

 

          This Camelot of kitsch, this den of decadence, this amalgam of Andy Warhol nightmares, this Pollack pastiche of poor taste, remains a highlight of all trips on route 95.  Sadly, they have changed most of the many signs that line the highway 200 miles in either direction, because of their racial intolerance.  No longer do they have signs in bad Mexican accents with double entendre humor.  “Get your beeeg hotdog at Pedro’s.”  The hotdogs are still there:

 

          We browsed the shops and got ice cream, but there is something about South of the Border that clouds the mind and makes one do odd things.

 

          Remembering the last time we went to Washington, when we were accosted by armed guards for parking too close to the Lincoln Memorial on New Year’s Day, 2000, we parked by Potomac Park, just south of the Memorial.  Then we hiked over se see Lincoln, visited the Lincoln memorial lavatories, and saw the surrounding memorials: Vietnam, Korea, World War I.

 

          I was impossible not to have a personal reaction to these memorials.  World War II was a necessary war of liberation against evil nations whose Corporate executives had too much power, Fascist nations controlled by a handful of leaders behind power-hungry, arrogant dictators.  But what about the other wars?  What good ever came from the Korean War or Vietnam?  What did all those heroes sacrifice their lives for?  As we walked past the almost endless list of names on the Vietnam walk, knowing everyone our age had known someone on that wall, it brought back all that distaste of the 60’s and seventies.  May God bless those lives, wasted for political bullshit.

 

          We continued walking along the mall to the Washington Monument, right across from the back yard of the White House, where right now it looks as if they’re preparing for war with Iran, as if Iraq wasn’t a big enough debacle.  It is no wonder that everywhere we go, we find good, average American people who hate George Bush and everything his administration has stood for.

 

          If only the president would visit the beautiful Franklin Delano Roosevelt Memorial and read the many phrases displayed there:

 

 

          or “Those who see to establish systems of government based on the regimentation of all human beings by a handful of individual rules, call this a new order.  It is not new and it is not order.”  Even “We have nothing to fear but fear itself.”  Everything here relates to the president debacle of an administration.  The anti-fascist remarks are obvious.  Try looking up the definition of “fascism” sometime.  It basically means a country which is controlled by the heads of a few major corporations.  As to the quotation about fear—well, look at those stupid terrorist alert colors—all that did was create fear among the people of America.  Visit the monument, George.  Try learning something about serving the needs of the people, instead of the bosses.

          Freddy had something to add to the FDR monument, when it came to breadlines:

 

          We continued our walk across the mall, past the Washington Monument, and across to the Smithsonian Buildings.  We were all anxious to show Crystal the Museum of American History.  When we got there, it was closed.  Why me, I thought?  Out of all the times to visit Washington, why did I have to pick a day when most of the mall was closed?

          We did get to go to the Museum of Natural History. I had promised Crystal she would see a really big elephant.  After that, was the museum of Art, where the kids were rather uninterested, but Diane and I had a great time, especially with the Impressionist collection, which is everybody’s favorite, I guess.  We were not allowed to take pictures for obvious reasons.  Hell, one of the guard got mad at me for pointing to something in one of the pictures.  Still, I was able to take an interesting photograph in the men’s restroom:

                             Have you ever seen such wide urinals?  They were big enough for two guys to share one, if things got crowded, or if they were gay.  Maybe it was a good way to keep warm on a cold day.

 

 

Monday Morning, June 18th, East Syracuse:

 

          I can’t sleep.  I haven’t worked on this webpage for over a week.  I’ve been taking notes, but maybe I’ve been suffering from writer’s block or something.  Then, again, it could be something else.  Maybe something happened that I’d hesitated to write about, been less than completely forthright with you, until today.

          Crystal said it was okay.  She said I could talk about it, so I’m going to talk about it, and maybe catch up on a lot of things, too.   Okay.  Crystal gave me permission to tell everything—to tell you what it feels like to be driving my beautiful little Honda Civic Hybrid down a dark, winding road, just south of Fonda, New York, rather late on a moonless night, when suddenly our beautiful Crystal, my son’s dear girlfriend, yells, “Pull over!” only a second before spewing a hot spray of vomit all over my neck, where it began to ooze under my shirt and run down my back.

          “It’s okay, Dad,” said Freddy, as he held his beloved.  “She’s been sick all day, so it’s probably mostly just water.”

          Thank you, Freddy.  What a kind and thoughtful thing to say.  And what consolation it gave me as I pulled off my “I Love New York” tee shirt and used it to wipe the warm, slimey, spittle from my back.

          I guess Freddy was right; it had been mostly water.  It wasn’t a major problem, not like the time, many years ago after another trip to Washington, long ago, with a different wife and a different son . . .

          Billy had been only a baby, probably not quite two years old.  We had just crossed the Gothel’s Bridge onto Staten Island, when he decided to heave all over his car seat, all over the car, all over everything.  My wife tried to take care of the mess, but before I could pull over to the shoulder, she started to puke, too.  Well, that was too much for me.  I stopped the car, opened the door, and tried to make my escape.  I could move a lot faster then, than I can today.  But it wasn’t fast enough.  I felt dinner, lunch, and breakfast, all coming out together, an open faced turkey sandwich and French fries, mixed up with pancakes and maple syrup, all returning to the world in various stages of digestion, spattering all over the shoulder of the parkway.

          Compared to that day, Crystal’s little illness was nothing.  I tried to tell her that story, so she wouldn’t feel quite so embarrassed, but it didn’t help.  She kept thinking of the future, seeing herself and Freddy happily married in a idyllic setting, with two beautiful children, listening to Grandpa telling them the story of how Mommy had puked all over him one dark night on a twisty road just south of Fonda, New York.

 

          Well, now that that’s out of the way, the story can continue:

 

          Remembering another time we had parked in Washington, we had parked our car on the Potomac across from the Lincoln Memorial.  Parking there was limited to three hours.  When Diane told me we had fifteen minutes left, I assumed she meant fifteen minutes before we had to start walking to the car.  No, she meant the three hours were up in fifteen minutes.

          We were standing in front of the Museum of Modern Art, just about as far as we could be from the car, and still be in the mall.  To reach the car, we would have to walk across the mall, past the Air and Flight museum, past the Smithsonian buildings, past the Washington Monument, past all the war memorials, then across a wide field not far from the Jefferson Memorial to get there, a distance of maybe four miles.  And Crystal’s feet were already hurting in those damned flip flops she had on.  All I could think of was to have the girls wait by the Smithsonian Carousel while Freddy and I tried to make it to the car.

          I would have been cavalier and told Freddy to wait with them, but I was afraid that I couldn’t make it because of my bad knee, which was already hurting.  Freddy couldn’t go himself because he didn’t know the area well enough to be able to find the car.

          So off we went, each quick step agonizingly painful, as the parking lot seemed further and further away the more we walked.  I tried to cut the walk short by cutting across south of the mall, by the Holocaust Museum, but feared going too far south might make us miss the car altogether.  Another Dad might have been able to use a time like this to bond with his son, but the pains shooting along my right knee limited my conversation.  Finally, we came to a large, grassy field.

          “It should be just on the other side of this field,” I said, hopefully.  Then I looked to my right.  We were at the Washington Monument.

          “No, it must be the next grassy field.”

          “On the other side of that bay?” asked Freddy, seeing the Jefferson Monument, about two miles across the water.

          “It has to be past that.”

          We continued on, both with the same thought: Wouldn’t it feel great to jump into that water?  This heat is unbearable.  Do you think we’d get arrested if we climbed that fence and jumped in?

          I don’t know how many hours it took us before we found the right field to cut across, but eventually it came in sight.  We could see the car in the distance and guess what—there was an empty space in front of it, so we wouldn’t have any trouble pulling out.  (Pulling into the space had taken many maneuvers with two people on either side directing me into the space.)

          When we were about halfway across the field, we saw another car trying to park in front of us.  It had about six inches to spare on either side, while the driver tried to maneuver the vehicle.  Freddy had an idea.  “Use the emergency button on your key!”

          That damned thing never worked right.  I was always chewing my nails and never had enough nail left to work it.  This time, it did work.  The horn started beeping.

          The guy must have thought he had hit my car.  He jumped out of his and walked around to the back.  We could see his bewilderment as he tried to figure out what he had done to my car and then worried if the police were going to accuse him of trying to steal it.  It might have been funny if Freddy and I weren’t so exhausted.  Finally, we got within shouting range.

          “If you’ll just wait a minute, I’ll give you all the space in the world to park your car,” I shouted.

          I’m not sure if the man spoke English, but he was only too happy to let us take our beeping car out of his way. 

          Our car was unticketed.  Obviously, the police don’t enforce that law at this time of the year.  We drove off to get the girls, but naturally it took awhile, especially after I took a wrong turn and we ended up looking at a giant statue of a man half covered in the earth, looking something like Ozymandias in the famous Keats’ poem.  We later took the girls to see this:

 

          After lunch, we found a place to park on the mall, so we could continue our visit.  Freddy said the Capitol was a great place to see, so we headed there.

 

          Over Freddy’s left shoulder were armed guards on the stairs behind us.  The Capitol was close, too, and those guys with assault rifles were there ready to blow away anyone who got too close.

 

          We came back a second day and saw the FDR memorial, which I already talked about, then walked to the Jefferson Memorial, and also saw the George W Bush Memorial:

 

          I did get a chance to see the Museum of Modern Art, although Diane was terribly bored.  Having just taught a class on art, I was thrilled to see Jackson Pollack’s “Lavender Mist,” in the flesh.  I know a lot of modern art is hard to understand, but just standing face to face with a masterpiece was very moving to me.

 

          Of course, like everyone else who visits Washington, we got lost on the way back, but all in all, we had a good time, achey achey legs and all. 

          The next day, after taking another wrong turn and heading south instead of north, then stopping three times before we found a gas station which could fit into, we drove to Maryland.

          Parkville, Maryland, was pretty easy to find.  We were able to stay in the parking lot at the showhall, and something really crazy happened: we had a normal cat show!  Normal in the sense that we made a reasonable amount of money, just like the old days before Cat Shows started to go downhill.  Things have been so bad lately, and so many vendors have been making so little, that this was a refreshing change.  It gave us great hope for the rest of the trip.

          Our only problem in Maryland was a really difficult time trying to find a Wal-mart to buy food.  We drove in circles several times before we finally found the Supercenter, hidden behind tries on the side of the Interstate, almost impossible to see.

          Bad things have been happening in Wal-Marts.  More and more of them have signs that say “No overnight RV parking.”  Campers just can’t depend on them the way we used to.

          Our next stop was a campground in New Jersey, from where we could drive into the city, see the Statue of Liberty, which I have never really visited, and then meet my friend Jason in Manhattan.  At first, the campground seemed pretty nice, although it was really very wet.  It had a nice lake and I couldn’t wait to jump in the canoe for a paddle.

          Soon, though, we heard the yelling and fighting from a group of people I called the “F__K you Family.”  These savages were arguing and fighting for two days, and their vocabulary was very limited, mostly to the word I used to name them.  It was sad indeed to hear Florida rednecks as far north as New Jersey.

          My canoe trip was fun, though.  I found a basketball, a volleyball, and a red game ball, which had apparently blown away from previous guests swimming at the lake.

 

          Hoping to avoid driving in Manhattan, at least for one more day, I had made reservations at the Circle Line cruise out of Liberty Park in New Jersey. 

 

          The first stop was Ellis Island, where we toured the facilities for immigrants, thought a lot about Vito Corleone, and I got yelled at for shooting a flash in the direction of the tour guide.  Next we got on another ferry that took us to the Statue of Liberty.

 

 

          I don’t think real immigrants cheered as much as the people on that boat when we cruised in front of the statue.  They just went wild!  They don’t allow you to go into the statue anymore.  We just got as far as the base.  Naturally, security was very tight.  One rather conservative Park Ranger talked about patriotism and noble governmental ideals.  I looked over towards Diane who had her teacher face on and was shaking her head, clearing sending the message that this was no place for patriotic Liberalism and if I opened my mouth, I’d be sleeping in the driver’s seat for the rest of the summer.

          Later on, we met a more honest Ranger who informed us that a western senator had passed away.  He couldn’t remember the name.  “Was he one of ours or one of theirs?” I asked, knowing how small the democratic majority was in the Senate.  “I’m not supposed to say this,” he said, “You know who signs my checks, but I’m pretty sure it was one of theirs.”

          Praise Jesus, I thought.  Another one of his followers have been called to His bosom with Jerry Falwell.

          Here are the kids and Diane at the Statue of Liberty with a rather strange person next to them:

 

          We had a beautiful view of the New York skyline from the Battery, and it really had me eager to drive in tomorrow morning.

 

          But when we got back to the campground, another disaster was waiting for us.  We had a wifi hotspot, so Diane checked our bank account.  “We’re overdrawn!  And none of it was ours!”

          After several phone calls, eventually at the pay phone because Diane’s phone had crapped out after a fifteen minute wait for service, we learned what had happened.  Some S.O.B. had gotten Diane’s account number over the Internet and had charged about $400 worth of computer equipment!  We had to rush to the nearest Bank of America in the morning and sign an affidavit so the Bank could take care of the charges.  We got there and were told we had to wait 4 hours for the fax to arrive.  We decided to drive to Manhattan and stop at the bank the following morning to sign the papers.

          And off we went to Manhattan.  We got there easily enough, although they shortchanged me a dollar on the New Jersey Turnpike.  Always count your change before you pull away from the tooth booth, especially if they fold the change inside the receipt.

 

          Oh my God, I guess I forgot how to drive in Manhattan.  The traffic was a disaster.  We saw Ground Zero, but couldn’t park there—Hell, we couldn’t park anywhere.  Freddy wanted to see the Five Corners.  I’m not even sure if we passed it.  I ended up on Roosevelt Drive heading north, so I turned off on 42nd or something, and finally, after what seemed like hours, found a parking lot ($32.00 for 4 hours) on 44th Street, where we met Jason, so had been going from one subway station to another below us, trying to find where we were stopping.

          For those of you who don’t know him, Jason was a student of mine at Countryside High School.  He was there when Freddy was born; I was Best Man at his wedding, basically, he’s been like the brother I never had.  Since he moved to New York, we hadn’t seen him in several years and I guess I was fighting back the tears when we finally saw him.

          Jay showed us around midtown for a few hours.  I especially enjoyed it when he pointed out the headquarters of those bad guys in The DaVinci Code.  Diane’s favorite part was getting her first New York pizza in many years.

 

          When it came to leaving the city, I figured out the easiest way to do it.  I tossed Jason the keys and asked him to drive.  He explained how to drive in the city and showed us the necessary skills a New York driver needed to have:

 

 

          But the best part of the day, I think, was having dinner with Jason and his beautiful wife, Becky, at an Irish pub around the corner from their apartment in Woodside, Queens.

 

          Jason told us exactly how to find the Brooklyn Queens Expressway from his house.  Naturally, we missed the turn, had to make a u-turn, gave the finger, just like Jason taught us, to several beeping angry drivers, and tried again.  Both Jason and Becky stood there pointing to the entrance to the BQE and we had no more problems getting back to New Jersey, taking a route I had driven hundreds of times when I was going to college in Trenton and visiting my girlfriend in Mineola (not unlike James Cagney in The Roaring Twenties.)

          The next morning, we called the Bank of America and found that the four hour fax had not been sent in twenty-four hours.  We decided we’d have to have Meagan Regan, the young lady at the bank who was helping us, forward the fax to someplace near Gloversville, New York, our next stop.

 

          I tried to avoid traffic by taking I-287 in New Jersey to the New York Thruway.   We had to pay $20 for the first hundred miles we drove on that Freeway.

          I decided we needed gas, so I pulled into a Freeway Service Area.  The sign said, “Car left, trucks and RV’s right,” so I pulled to the right.  “Where is the gas?” I kept asking, as we drove through the parking area.

          “There it is,” said Diane, looking behind us.

          “Great,” I said, as we pulled back on the Thruway.  “The next gas station is 35 miles away.  It’s a good thing I have a big tank.”

          We made it to the next service area, which had the same sign.  “Screw you, sign,” I thought, as I turned left, and saw a blue sign which said “service area.”  The other sign must have been for parking.  I drove through and go my gas.

          The gentleman running the service area was very helpful.  He offered to turn on the gas and let me pay after I had filled the tank.

          What’s helpful about that, you ask?

          Many gas cards charge you $50.00 before you fill the tank, then return the difference.  Now, $50.00 is often not enough to fill a tank because of these ridiculous gas prices.  My camper takes about 80 gallons.  Usually that means filling the card four times.  Most gas stations don’t have clips on the handles, so that means I have to stand here holding the pump handle through four separate fillups.  This can be very annoying.

 

          It had been many years since I had seen my Aunt Eileen.  She had come down to Florida to visit my parents before they passed away and I will never forget her joy of life and sense of humor, as she held up a cookie and said, “There goes diet #368.”  We had a wonderful time seeing her, her granddaughter, Wendy, and my cousin, Janice, who is married to a fine man named Mike.

 

          We stayed at a campground about 30 miles south of Gloversville, so we drove up and back each day.  It was on one of those return trips that Crystal had the unfortunate experience we discussed earlier.

 

          The weekend was spent visiting Aunt Eileen, talking about the family, most of whom are long gone now, and also seeing Janice and her family at a camping area where they have a place on a beautiful lake.  We did get to a Bank of America and finally have the affidavit taken care of, and while we were there, I bought Crystal and Freddy a giant gummy snake almost three feet long.  We when left Aunt Eileen, I promised to send her (and I write it her so I won’t forget it later) DVD’s of the Color Gleason shows, Fanny, The Aviator, Papa’s Delicate Condition, and some of the shows I’ve been in.

 

          Our next stop was Lake Moreau, just south of Lake George.  It’s a beautiful park, trees everywhere, like a rainforest.  The trouble was, it had no electric or water.  Our generator works fine, but with the cost of gas, it’s quite an inconvenience. I’m always turning it off and everybody else calls me a cheapskate and turns it back on.

          I did come up with a good way to handle grey water.  Grey water is the waste from the sink and shower, and it tends to fill up rather quickly, compared to the black water which hardly fills up at all (Thank goodness.)  You might recall that last summer, I solved a similar problem by carrying buckets of grey and black water to the public toilets at a California campground (which may or may not have led to the contamination of some of California’s important crops, which was in the news last September.)  This time, I bought two oil change containers, which I was able to fill with grey water and drive over to the dump station, thus keeping myself (and the ground) reasonably free from spillage.

 

          We visited some of the neighboring towns.  Glenn’s Falls didn’t have much except a much-needed Laundromat, a food store, and an Ace hardware, all of which came in quite handy.  The food store was quite interesting.  It was called Heremans, Herefords, something like that.  There were very few Wal-mart Supercenters in New York (none of which allowed overnight parking, by the way.)  Curiously, though, Herefords had all the same foods we usually got in Wal-mart, at the same prices.  Sounds like another big corporation getting around the local laws to me.

          Lake George had a lot of interesting shops, but, like Washington, a lot of it was closed when we arrived on a Monday.  Still, we had a nice time window shopping, and seeing the monster wax museum they had there.

          The most memorable thing, for me at least, in Lake George was meeting an incredibly unfriendly asshole with a Macaw.  We were eating at a nice little place, chatting with the owners, when a tall, heavy set African American gentleman came into the shop.  He had left his lady friend at a table outside with his bird.

          “Oh look,” I said, smiling, “it’s a parrot.”

          Freddy corrected me, “It’s a Macaw,” but before I could correct myself, the gentleman corrected me, in a tone of voice that suggested I had insulted His damned bird, like I had suggested a Palestinian was a Jew.

          His tone of voice was so unbelievable, that I just assumed I had misunderstood the gentleman, and I called the Macaw by name.  He made a screeching noise, which I jokingly suggested sounded like “Shut Up.”

          I meant it as a bit of self-deprecating humor, but the man went into a tirade that his freaking bird would never say “shut up” because it was rude and listed the polite words it did say and ended his incredibly unfriendly speech with “have a nice day” which was said in the tone of voice which sounded like “f__k you.”

          He walked out without ordering any lunch while we all sat there, stunned.  That’s how this asshole responds to a friendly attempt at conversation?  Sir, if you are reading this, let me say, “You are an asshole.”

          Diane said I was right not to have called him an asshole to his face, although he certainly was an asshole.  It might have led to an altercation and I was too mature for such an altercation.

          Okay, she might be right, but, oh that guy was an asshole.  I know a lot of cats who would love to meet his freaking damned bird.

          After lunch, I went down to the public restrooms by the beach, but didn’t use the facilities because the bathroom was filled with several teenaged boys who were getting their jollies lighting toilet paper on fire and throwing it at each other.  Come to think of it, there were a number of assholes in Lake George.

          We also stopped at Saratoga Springs, but other than some interesting horse statues, found nothing much of interest.         

         

          When we got back to the camper after doing the laundry in South Glenns Falls with Diane, I plugged in my cheapo imitation of a George Foreman grill and cooked up some of my cheap crap hamburgers from the “paupers only” food section of Wal-mart.  I listened to the grease as it sizzled in the grill, sitting outside as usual.  What a treat those burgers were!  Greasy and terrible is delicious.  I guess I’ve just gotten used to those things.

 

          Our next cat show was in Syracuse.

 

          How bad can a city suck?  I mean a really sucky one.  I mean no place, no where can compare to Syracuse, New York, when it comes to cities that suck.  Man, I am so glad that Syracuse was my second choice when I was picking a college to attend instead of my first.  Syracuse, you suck!

          At least from an RV.

 

          Picture this: you’re driving a 36 foot motor home and pulling a car on a dolly, so you total maybe 46 feet long, maybe 50, surrounded by narrow streets, one-way streets and absolutely nothing bigger than a small SUV.  There is no place to stop at the Cat show, which is surrounded by parking lots, none of which can handle a vehicle anywhere near the length of mine.  (I later found a small loading bay on a one-way street behind the Oncenter, where the cat show was held, but we couldn’t back into it because of the tow-dolly.)

          After searching for street parking in areas where most people would be nervous walking a Doberman, we decided to head back on the interstate, where we had seen a sign for “fairgrounds.”  Most state fairgrounds have camping facilities, although they are not always inexpensive.  We followed the signs and I parked in one of four empty lots across from the fairgrounds in western Syracuse.  What luck—water and electric!  And even a dump station!  This was perfect.  While I unloaded the camper of all the cat show stuff, I sent Freddy in the car to the main gate to see how much money we needed to pay the gatekeeper.  By the time I had everything unloaded on the side of the parking lot, Freddy returned with the grounds keeper.

          “Sorry.”  He said.  “You can’t stay here.  This is only for people attending the fair.”

          I looked around at the sixty parking places in this lot alone and the water fixtures, which were on, and the electric boxes, which were on.

          “Working at the Oncenter Cat show doesn’t qualify.”

          “But we’re happy to pay to park here.  The lot is empty.”

          “Sorry.  This is not a public facility.”

          The State Fairgrounds????

          The man who worked for the fairgrounds, which, by the way, you suck, you goddamned cheesy fairgrounds suggested we drive up the road aways to a RV repair place who might know where there’s a campground.  I took the car while Freddy and Crystal did some repacking of the RV and asked a very nice woman at the repair place for advice.

          “The nearest camping area is 45 miles away.”

          This is something I had known when planning this trip.  I had called the Oncenter from Florida and nobody could give me a straight answer about whether or not there was parking facilities for an RV.  All the bimbo on the phone had to do was look out the window, for Christ’s sake!  But at the time, I did not know that Syracuse sucked.

          “There is a Wal-Mart Supercenter not too far from here.”

          The kind lady gave us instructions on how to get to Wal-mart.  We had to drive across her lawn because some Syracuse Schmuck who sucked had stopped his sucky SU sucking V across the front of the sucking driveway.  Then we went back to the fairgrounds where we had not yet been ticketed by the sucky Syracuse cops, drove the car back on the dolly, tied down the front tire straps, connected the safety chains, and drove even further west to Wal-Mart on Genesee Ave, where, after traveling on a narrow, windy sucky road, we were greeted with big red signs that said “No Overnight Parking of Trucks or RV’s.  Violators will be towed.

          Was this sucking walmart (no longer capitalized, you bastards) on our list of walmarts that suck and don’t allow overnight parking?  No.  You suck, Syracuse.

          We had no choice.  We decided to leave the RV in the parking area and make two trips in the car (about 25 minutes one way to the Oncenter.)  I still don’t understand how this happened, but we were somehow holding the map upside down, so we turned left on State Street instead of right, and wandered aound the city for about an hour, trying to figure out how to get back to the Oncenter.

          Diane took care of setting up, while I went back for more stuff.  While I was gone, she met a kind lady who told her that was another walmart in East Syracuse that allowed RV parking.  She even called a friend to verify that the parking lot had several people sitting around their RVs in camping chairs.  She had a gentleman friend write directions for us.

          The directions sucked.  Are you surprised?

          First he told us to go down “That rode there.”  I proceeded to drive several miles south on State Street, until Diane said, “Oh, I don’t think he meant State Street.  He was pointing to the road that ran parallel to the judges’ tables.”

          Okay, back to the right road, where we were supposed to go up the I-81 ramp towards I-690, but not to get on 690, but on 695 instead.  All we could do was head up 690, which turned out to be the right road, coincidentally.  Next, we were supposed to go about three exits east and make a left on Thompson Road.  There was no left turn on Thompson Road, which had north and south exits.  I figured I would take North, as it was the equivalent of going left.  Bad move, Buddy.

          When we got to the Thruway, we decided to turn around and try the other direction.  We asked a woman on the side of the road.

          “Sorry.  I’m from South Carolina.”

          We asked a gentleman in a car.  “Sorry, I’m from Massachusetts.”

          Next, a car stopped and asked us directions.  “Didn’t you see the license plate on my car,” I said, “We’re from Florida and just as lost as you are.”

          Finally, a couple leaving a movie theatre told us the walmart was on Bridge Road and showed us how to get there, where there were five trucks parked in the corner near a duck pond that had the whole area covered with green shit.  I didn’t see a camper in the lot, but we had to take a chance.

          Meanwhile, back in the camper on the other side of town, Crystal had bought a nice piece of chicken and had made dinner, expecting us to be “home” over an hour ago.  Freddy had called us over and over trying to get us home for dinner, while we had searched Thompson road from one end to the other.

          The walmart was right near I-690.  Following the directions from the woman at the RV repair shop, we drove back to the west side of Sucky Syracuse and rehooked the car and the canoe and had dinner (Crystal felt like a bride whose first dinner had been ruined by a husband who had been out bowling too long.)  Before we left, I made one last try with the walmart manager, telling him I had heard that some walmarts with no parking signs allowed RVs to park there if their owners asked nicely.  I asked nicely.  He said it was a question of the police who simply did not allow it.  I thanked the manager, all the while thinking, you suck and the police suck too, then  I drove back north to I-690, after making a wrong turn in a development full of dead ends where I thought we’d never survive, but, praise Jesus, we found an elementary school with a large circular drive for school buses and were able to turn around. 

          One dilemma remained: Should I take a chance on finding a Bridge Road exit or should I get off at Thompson and follow the directions from the woman at the movie theatre?  I prayed for a lucky break and we found one.  Three exits were all together:  pick the right lane for Bridges, Thompson South, or Thompson North.  We took bridges and made a left hand turn and there we were at Walmart.  Freddy and I rushed in to use the bathroom.  “Sorry,” we were told.  “The store’s closed.”

          We parked next to the trucks.  No RVs had shown up.  Three police officers were doing something that looked like an arrest of a dog in the parking lot.  We waited for them to tell us we couldn’t park over night, but they didn’t and here we are.

          Now Freddy and Crystal are at the show, where Freddy is clerking and Crystal is his steward.  Diane is selling her wares.  I’m in the camper writing this and watching over the old homestead because, well, you know, Syracuse sucks!

 

          I sent my feelings about Syracuse to a few friends via e-mail.  One friend thought I sounded rather vindictive; another sent my note to her parents who had lived in Syracuse and said I was right, it did suck.  Still, I suppose I was a little harsh.

          A lot of the problems we had were my fault.  The people at the cat show were nice folks and the show itself wasn’t bad.  We made a few dollars and Freddy and Crystal got to work as clerk and steward, earning a hundred dollars between them.  And once we had the logistics sorted out, thing’s weren’t so bad after all.  Of course, commuting to the show made the car rather crowded, especially when Freddy packed it:

          But there is no doubt at all that the Syracuse Fairgrounds suck!

 

          Our next stop was Niagara Falls.

          Both Diane and I had visited that Falls many years ago, but neither of us had been on “The Maid of the Mist,” the boat that takes you to the base of the Falls.  What a thrill!  I think we’ll all remember that ride as long as we live.

          We had a great time, although I wish we would have had enough money to visit all the Wax Museums.  I’ve never seen a town with so many.  There was a Rock and Roll Wax Museum, a Crime Wax Museum, Movieland Wax Museum, Tussand’s, and countless monster museums, such as House of Frankenstein and House of Dracula.  The little town we remembered had morphed into Las Vegas.  Casino’s were all over the place, too. 

          We had been told that we would need passports to get into Canada, that the rules had changed because of 9/11.  Fortunately, that was not the case.  All we needed were photo IDs and tremendous patience when the sour-faced Canadian Border Police tried to trap us with leading questions.

          “Why are you coming into Canada?”

          There were two answers to that:

1.     This is one of the biggest tourist destinations in the world.  Why hell do you think we’re crossing the Rainbow Bridge right here in the middle of this town?  (That was sort of arrogant, and I had already been threatened with arrest if I was lying about having a gun in my glove compartment.  Perhaps they figured all people from Florida carried guns?  I suppose it was a pretty good guess.)  Of course there was another possible answer:

2.     Why would I want to see the Falls from the American side?  Have you seen what a miserable slum the American side of the city has become?  (Actually, I settled on, “We want to stay a few hours to see the Falls.”  These guards seemed to have no sense of humor—not the slightest, and it was the same all three times we crossed over the border!

 

          They seemed obsessed over guns, and wouldn’t let go.  “You do own a guy, do you not?”

          I had to think for a minute.  I don’t know if my official Red Ryder BB with a compass in the stock and this thing for telling time actually qualified as a gun.  I thought of that Leon Uris novel I had read as a kid about marines: “This is my rifle; this is my gun . . .” Oh, wait, there was that old small gauge shotgun my father had bought thirty years ago.

          “Yes, I have a small shotgun-”

          “Where is it?  Is it in your trunk?”

          “No, it’s at home, in Florida, in the garage.”

          “Are you sure?”  This is were the guard threatened to have me arrested if I was carrying a weapon.

          “Yes.”

          “Yes you have a gun in your trunk?”

          “No.  Yes, I have a gun at home.  In Florida.  In my garage.”

          “What is your relationship to the young lady?  Crystal?  Why are you here?”

          Crystal is shy enough without having to answer questions from tricky border guards who imply that we’re going to use her to stock our new Canadian Bordello.  “She’s Freddy’s girlfriend.  We have a copy of her birth certificate and a letter of permission to cross the border from her mother.”

          We passed the guard the paperwork.  She perused it thoroughly, probably just long enough to run our licenses through her computer.  “Okay.  You can go,” said the guard, abruptly.”

          It was the same all three times.  Do Canadians hate Americans now?  Canadian Bacon was just a movie.  Not once did we hear, “Welcome to Canada.”

          Wait.  That wasn’t exactly true.  On the second day, we took a ride to Toronto, mostly because Freddy wanted to drive in another country.  When we found a parking space near the center of town and got out of our car, a woman came up to us and said, “Florida licenses?  Welcome to Toronto!”  That was a nice thing to say.  On the whole, Canadians were saw in Toronto seemed, happier and friendlier than the average bear.  (Sorry.  When you’re at Yogi Bear Jellystone Park Campground, I guess you tend to talk like Yogi.)  Canadians in Niagara Falls were just like Americans in tourist areas—they wanted money.  And boy, they got it!  The prices were really outrageous.  Obviously all that free health care requires a lot of taxation.

          So does that mean universal health care in America will be paid for by Canadian tourists?  Sounds like a good idea to me.

Toronto was really a nice city, with some beautiful old buildings and churches.  Pictures do not do it justice.

         

          On the way home, after a quick meal at a Canadian MacDonalds, which had a little maple leaf in the center of the arches, we got to see the falls at night from the Canadian side.  (Not wishing to pay another $12.00 to park for a half hour or so, Freddy dropped us off to take pictures, drove around, then picked us up at a light and we did the same for them.)  We got some nice pictures of the Falls.  Freddy took this one, of course:

          We went back again the next night to see the falls from the American side.  All in all, we had a really good time, although I think Crystal’s favorite part was getting French fries and gravy in Canada.

          We stayed at a nice park called Four Mile Creek, on the shore of Lake Ontario, from where we could see Toronto across the lake.  Even with a little rain, we had great weather.  A man I spoke to from North Carolina said the reason we liked the north so much was its weather.  “It’s not the temperature,” he said.  “It’s the lack of humidity.”

 

 

Friday, June 22, 2007:

          We just finished setting up for the Cat Show here in Portage, Indiana.  In order to save me the grief I had in Syracuse when we didn’t know where we were parking or spending the night, Diane booked us into a Yogi Bear Campground (the very expensive kind) for Friday and Saturday night.  It about two miles from the show hall and there is none of the tension that so teed me off in Syracuse.  Tomorrow night they’re having a gala Hawaiian Dance from 8 to 11, with a DJ and everything.  It will probably be lame, but we’re looking forward to it.  In fact, when Diane had to get something at Walgreen’s, I noticed they had really ugly Hawaiian shirts for only $9.99 each.  At first, I looked at a blue one, but then a great idea hit me, so I got a pair of flowery green things, just as ugly as spit on the sidewalk, with Corona bottles on the back.  I figured Freddy and I could have matching, father and son ugly Hawaiian shirts for the dance.  After picking out the shirts and asking Diane if they were a good idea, I walked to the front of the store and suddenly couldn’t find her.  I called out her name several times, but she had disappeared.  When one of the Walgreen’s ladies asked if she could help me, I said, “I just picked out these shirts for myself and my son and she disappeared.”  Then I called her name several more times.

          The Walgreen’s girl just about broke her brassiere laughing a the pitiful sight of me standing there, wifeless, holding two of the ugliest green shirts on God’s green earth.  Thinking we were waiting twenty minutes for her prescription, I asked the girl at the register to watch my shirts, so nobody else would buy them.  She started laughing, too, but she was too old to bust her brassiere.  She probably busted her Depends or something like that.

          Diane finally showed up.  I have no idea where she was.

          Anyway, that’s not what I started to write about.  I am sitting here at a wooden table with the computer playing one of my favorite old westerns, I am sitting here at a wooden table with the computer playing one of my favorite old westerns, Gunfight at the O.K. Coral, while I’m cooking a pair of delicious pork chops.  Cars are roaring by at the Interstate on my right; a few people in golf carts are driving by; the air is just slightly chilly, enough to encourage a sneeze now and then.  It’s like being a kid again, sitting in a drive in movies, maybe with the top down.  Alan Ladd’s voice was the best on those car speakers, but Kirk Douglas’ voice was pretty good, too.  A cool breeze just blew by, and brought with it such a wave of nostalgia—the first time I saw this movie was at a drive in movie theatre, probably the Flanders Drive-In where we used to go in the summer and my Mom and Dad were younger than I am now.

          Is there any wonder why we’re heading west?  I was raised on cowboy movies in the drive-in.  If you look in my baby book, you’ll see listed under “first outing” the Babylon Drive-In.  How I wish my mother had recorded the title of the movie we saw in 1945, when I was six weeks old!

 

Chapter Four