Now how can you not love a country that puts hockey on its money?
Well, maybe you can, but I am completely incapable of not loving a country that puts hockey and a dad teaching a child to skate on its money. So sing it with me:
O Canada, your comics are so funny/As if that's not enough, there's hockey on your money.... If you don't know the tune, you haven't seen enough hockey or, for that matter, figure skating back in the 1990s when Kurt Browning and Elvis Stojko were racking up the World Championships.
But it's not Canada as a whole that I'm here to spout about in my patented snarky-yet-affectionate way. It's just this part of Canada:
or, if you are more geographically inclined, this part of Canada:
Ok, not nearly the whole of that part of Canada, as that part of Canada is actually very, very big, and seeing even a decent part of it, especially the "Labrador" part, would have involved one of these:
Life is short, and in my somewhat paranoid universe, turbo-props inevitably make it shorter. So, as I had forgotten my Xanax and rosary beads, Labrador was out.
In fact, nearly all of the gargantuan province was out except for St. John's, the capital city down in the southeastern corner of the province.
But like too many travel stories, this one started at LaGuardia. And like too many travel stories that start at LaGuardia, this one stayed at LaGuardia for far too long.
More on that in the next post.