* * *
On Sunday night, the Jukes family, Kingston's mom's side, went out for dinner at Spinnaker's, billed as Canada's oldest brew pub.
The waitress there was my archetype, that being short, black hair, and intelligent.
At the end of the meal, when I was paying for my share, she gave me a look that made me think, "Damn. If only I was staying for a few more days. And if only I lived a lot closer to Victoria than 13 hours."
Kingston took me on a driving tour in a mostly black city. Pretty nice nonetheless.
* * *
I took a WestJet flight on the way home. While packing, I was about to put my homemade wine in my luggage.
Kingston said, "You know, you should probably put that into your carry on, just so it doesn't get broken."
He also gave me a bottle for Heath.
I wasn't going to get in the trap of them finding nail clippers again, so I took those out of my backpack.
I shoved most of my stuff into my duffle bag to make room for the two bottles of wine.
While driving to the airport, we heard about a bomb threat the night before. Great. That'll make things interesting security-wise.
I get my ticket and start going through security. They ask me to take out all the electronics. This was something that didn't happen at Edmonton. They only took out everything to find the clippers.
So I dig out my Gameboy and my CD player. My camera was in the duffel bag.
My backpack goes through the x-ray.
The security guard asks me, "Do you have wine in the bag?"
"Yes, I do."
"Is it a brand, or is it homemade?"
"It's homemade."
"Oh, you're going to have to go back to the airline and put those under the plane. We don't allow homemade wine as carry on. You don't know that homemade wine's made of, or what it contains."
So I go back through WestJet. And tell the attendant about the wine. Since my luggage has already gone through, we're going to use my backpack. But we'll wrap the wine bottles in plastic bags, and mark FRAGILE on the bag. I promptly take out everything I want to do: Listen to music and read Dev's book. I'll forgo the Gameboy and put it in the backpack.
So I go through security again.
And pass through this time. I ask the girl who was helping me through, "Is this all because of last night?" (I'm not going to say the word 'bomb threat' in an airport, thank you...)
"Sort of." She explains to me that someone actually called the airport director's home phone line from a cell phone and pranked him about this so-called bomb.
Also, she says, eariler in the day, someone came through with something that's a BIG no-no, security-wise. I didn't ask what it was, but the police had to be called about it.
So I go on the plane. After hitting the proper altitude, I turn on my discman. It doesn't turn on. I turn on my discman. It says, "Screw you. I'm not working today. Should have charged my battery, jackass."
I read my book. With out music. I hit Kelowna. Beautiful, sunny day. 16 degrees out. And I get onto the adjoining flight.
On this flight, I try turning on my walkman again, this time without the random on. I get two and a half songs out of it.
When I arrive at Edmonton, it's 4 below, and overcast. Grey.
I'm waiting for my luggage to come through. I get a call from WestJet baggage for a Kyle Ee-ago.
Yup. A bottle of wine broke in my backpack. I immediately thought, "Gah! My Gameboy!" You know, electronics won't work well when put in wine. Dev asked me "You didn't think 'Gah! My backpack?"
No. I know that I can wash a backpack. Dry clean some ties. Throw out some papers. Electronics? I spent enough money on them the first time, thank you...
So I was in the baggage office, cleaning out my backpack and all that was in it with paper towels.
Thinking "Razz'n frazz'n WestJet. Don't they see the fragile stickers on this? Or the fact that it's encased in plastic?"
But I signed a waiver in Victoria, so they're exempt.
Otherwise, I got home fine. And just smelling a lot like a wino.
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