The Engagement Story: Part 1- Love At The End Of The World

This small series will be a break from my normal travel writing and blogging.  It will attempt to document to the best of my memory and limited writing skills the run-up to Colleen and I's recent engagement.  I apologize in advance if I get a little sappy at times.  Brent.
 

Big eyebrows. Hairy. Pushover. Non-confrontational. Degenerate gambler.  All words that are often used to describe me.  Romantic is certainly not one of them.  My idea of romance usually involves my girlfriend fiancée and I sitting on the couch, farting, laughing at said farts and watching whatever AMC program it is we are watching that evening.  Alas, Casanova, I am not. 

But as everyone's favourite heroin addict Bob Dylan once said, "Times They Are A Changin'".  Yes, if I wanted to get the girl of my dreams to marry me it was going to take more than a Breaking Bad marathon and some chronic gas expulsion from my ass.  I was going to need a game plan.  So game plan I did...

Before I delve straight into the business of getting hitched, allow me to provide some background information for those of you that aren't in the know:

What seems like just yesterday (but was in fact three years ago), I decided to move to the Canadian equivalent of Space's Final Frontier, Inuvik in the Northwest Territories.  At the time, I was just looking for something different, an escape if you will from the grind that is life in the Greater Toronto Area.  Now, let me also quickly say that I love where I grew up and have established lifelong friendships there, but for me, I needed a change, and a rather dramatic one.

Recognizing that I needed something different than my Monday to Friday job, I started looking online for jobs and quickly had narrowed down my options to either moving to a tropical island and working in a resort environment or moving to the Arctic.  I shit you not, these were the two options I gave myself! 

For some strange reason (the Universe works in mysterious ways) I found myself drawn to and curious about the Arctic.  I had never travelled further north than Edmonton in my life, but I just couldn't shake the thought that this was where I should move to.  At the time I was fresh out of a three year relationship and quite honestly wanted nothing to do with a woman or any females for that matter.  I was more than content to date my hand for the foreseeable future.  Moving to the Arctic seemed as safe a bet as any to not meet the future Mrs. Moreau.



Sometimes it just takes a trip to the end of the world to find what you are looking for...



Fast forward a few weeks and the next thing I knew I was on a 20-seat turbo-prop plane on the runway in Dawson City, Yukon in early January wondering what the fuck I had gotten myself into.  Not only was it dark outside (at lunch time!), but the temperature was hovering around -40°C and her I was sitting on a plane with a family of five who were all wearing clothes made out of what appeared to be real fur and heading to some God-forsaken place called Old Crow. The only other passenger was a broad who was going to work for a dog sled team and could have easily passed for Mickey Rourke's stunt double.  Yup, just the seven of us and a flight attendant who was wearing a parka and huge Sorel boots.  I couldn't make this shit up if I tried.

But alas, this is not my life story, so I shall try and get back on track.

When I was hired in early January 2011, I was brought in because there was to be a lot of people taking consecutive vacations at my new place of employment, the first of them being my now fiancée, Colleen who was to be leaving the following week.  I won't lie and tell you I remember the first time we ever met.  In fact, the first feelings I ever had for her were feelings of sympathy!

My first week in Inuvik, we had a staff meeting to go over the usual bullshit that people cover at such events.  At some point during this assembly, Colleen was centred out in front of everyone for a slight indiscretion at work and all I can remember is being terrified for her.  I thought this poor, young girl is being humiliated in front of everyone and to top it all off she is going to be fired right before she is scheduled to go on vacation.  She was in near tears and it looked like her world was coming to an end.  I just wanted to run over and give her a hug (a non-sexual hug I would like to point out!).

Thankfully, Colleen was able to go on  vacation and return to her job, where she would get to work alongside me, the non-romantic gas passer.  Over the next few months we worked together and got along quite well, but I never tried to make a move on her or really even flirt with her much because at the time she was living with another guy and home-wrecking isn't really my thing.  Yes, she was beautiful, funny, kind, caring, and full of life, but I generally try to avoid to hitting on women who are involved with other penis-wielding creatures.  Lesbians are fair game.

 



She was "charmed" by snake, obviously.



 

As luck would have it though, things took a turn for the better in June of 2011, when we both found ourselves unattached and the next thing I knew I was cast in a spell by my now future wife.

 

Side note: I am still getting used to not calling her my girlfriend.  As long as she keeps hitting/pinching/giving me a death stare me each time I do it, I should get the hang of it sometime before our wedding and will in turn learn to call her my ball and chain fiancée.


~Brentski~

Next time:  Taking our relationship to the next level.  Without using warp zones or cheat codes.

Day 66- Do Pro Wrestlers Oil Themselves Up Or Is There A Designated Oil Guy In The Dressing Room?

Thailand.  Sun. Sand. Beaches. Cheap drinks.  Yes, these are just many of the things that come to mind (at least the non-perverse mind) when you think of this fine Southeast Asian nation.  Since our hotel was just around the corner from one these beaches the people speak of, Colleen and I decided to start the day off with a nice suntan and some solid sand lounging cause we heard that is what people do on vacation.  Unfortunately we are not normal people.  In theory it was a nice relaxing idea, but within half an hour, we were both bored and Colleen started harassing me to go back to the hotel.  Shortly thereafter we ended up at a beachside bar imbibing in some lunchtime wobbly pops.  For Colleen this was enough of a beach excursion, while I decided to try and tough it out back on the beach with my e-reader and a copy of "Argo".  This didn't last long before the Heaven's started pissing on me and I was thus forced to admit I was not cut out for the beach towel lifestyle.

Later in the day, Colleen managed to convince me that we had to go for a couples massage (I know what you are thinking guys, and yes I am so owned).  With the memory of my recently painful Thai massage still fresh in my mind from a few days ago, I opted this time to try out every porn star's favorite massage, the full body oil massage.  Unlike the outdoor massage bazaar where I received my last massage, this one was indoors and climate controlled.  One thing I did not count on was that I probably should have worn boxers as I was just wearing my bathing suit with nothing underneath.  Before we began, the dominatrix masseuse kept insisting that I take off my shorts (she was assuming I wore underwear like a normal person in public) and I kept trying to explain to her that I didn't need her or her coworkers seeing my Don Johnson.  Eventually through sign language and some "Hooked On Phonics" I was able to communicate the fact that I would be electing to get a rub down in my trunks.  I must say I rather enjoyed the oil massage and I was starting to turn the corner on this sub culture of massages. 

With our freshly rubbed down and lubed up bodies, Colleen and I decided to make the rounds of what we called the "street bars" that evening.  The basic premise of the street bars (no idea what they call them) is that they are little booths set up in random spots along the streets that sell cocktails for approximately $2 Canadian.  We would drink at one booth and then move on to another.  These are a great way to get your drink on for cheap, and also forced us out of our hotel room  and interact with other human beings.  After tiring of the I'm-not-sure-if-it's-legal street liquor, we attempted to check out a few of the local bars in the Lamai Beach area.  It didn't long for us to conclude that they were mostly all girly bars full of old white men and young Thai women girls that I'm sure were all looking to find true soul mates. 

Double fisting. Like a boss.

 

Colleen sourcing out some street hooch.

Since Colleen doesn't share my love for Asian women and is against inviting strangers back to the hotel, we decided that our safer bet to end off the night would be a double whammy of McDonald's and Subway followed by one last call at our local street booze peddler.  Good night!

~Brentski~

 

Streets of Lamai.

Girly bars = pure class.

 

Day 65- Thanks Asshole. I Could Have Used That Money For My Thai Sex Slaves. Instead I'm Stuck With A $300 Repair Bill.

One of the many beaches off of Koh Samui

 The morning of January 22, was one that I was dreading for multiple reasons.  One of these reasons was not the fact that I would no longer have to deal with the breakfast buffet staff at the Salad Buri Resort.  Now I am sure all of the employees are fantastic people away from their workplace, but never have I seen such a bunch of grunters.  I swear this was the only way they knew how to communicate.  It was as if the restaurant employees were all a bunch of constipated mime-porn stars.  

What I WAS not looking forward to was having to return my severely damaged moped that I had crashed a few days earlier.  The guy I had rented it from had taken my passport as a deposit and had made me sign a shit ton of forms that I did so quite hastily without reading them over.  Once I finally pulled my testicles down out of my stomach, I made my way down to the hotel lobby to face the inevitable.  There was no chance I could hide the damage as I had successfully done when renting an RV a couple of years earlier in Australia or that they were not going to inspect the moped as had happened a week or so earlier in Ban Krut.  Yup, I was going to have to bend over and take this one.  Fast forward a few minutes and two dudes are going over the bike with a clipboard and making feverous notes while I stand by helplessly.  After the most ridiculous inspection ever, I am called up to the lobby desk and they explain that I have to pay for all new replacement parts for every piece I have scratched on the bike.  Keeping in mind that all I have really done is scrape a bunch of plastic covers and such, I try my best to argue with the non-English speaking holders of my passport that this is simply not fair.  They basically tell me to fuck off and that I owe them  8100 Thai Baht ($282 Canadian).  Or as I like to look at, forty-five times the cost of the actual bike rental for a night!  At this point there was not much I could do as I needed my passport and really just wanted to get the fuck out of there so I begrudgingly handed over my Visa card and contented myself with the fact that I least I would receive 282 Aeroplan miles for the transaction.  Eventually we were on our way, although Colleen was actually more pissed off than I was.  I tried to calm her and down and tell her there was nothing we could do and it was my own stupid fault but the woman was out for blood I tell ya!


Sounds like my kind of club!

With my wallet now a bit lighter than I had originally intended for it to be, we headed over to the ferry dock and made our way onto the ferry towards our next island stop, Koh Samui.  Koh Samui is the biggest of the three tourist islands in the Gulf of Thailand and it takes under an hour by boat to get there from Koh Phangan.  Thankfully, our ferry ride was significantly smoother than the one we had experienced a few days earlier and there were no barf bags needed. 

"Bangalow" you say? Sounds intriguing.

Once we loaded our stuff into a taxi, we headed on our way to our hotel/resort where we would be staying in the Lamai Beach area of the island.  Driving around the island, I couldn't help but notice just how tourist-driven the whole place was.  There were mega resorts everywhere and it was extremely well developed.  The island could easily hold its own against some of the big Caribbean tourist-powerhouses and some of the tranquility and genuine island feel of Koh Phangan now seemed like a distant memory.

The sensory overload quickly changed into confusion as we were dropped off at our resort and it was not the same resort that I had remembered booking online a couple of days earlier.  The driver assured me that we were in fact at The Grand Thai House Resort.  (Note: I would later discover that there were two almost identical named properties in the same area, the other one being The Thai House Beach Resort and that there was a mix-up with webpage links, images, reviews, etc with hotels.com and tripadvisor.  I am never one to really complain, but I did write hotels.com a quick e-mail explaining what had happened and was given a $50 voucher. I was quite proud of myself for this.)  Naturally we were in the least nicer of the two resorts although it provided us with an excellent location as it was right in the heart of Lamai Beach.  Not so excellent was the fact that it appeared as though someone had left our hotel's patio door for an extended period of time prior to our check-in and our room was full of mosquitoes.  Oh well, nothing like a mosquito killing spree to get your daily cardio!

Following the funeral procession for the nine million mosquitoes I massacred we decided to check out Lamai Beach and its nighttime offerings.  It became apparent to Colleen and I almost immediately after stepping foot outside of our resort that Lamai was the center of the "girly bar action" on the island.  You can do your own research on what those are folks!  Despite me wanting to investigate the girly bar scene, the wifey and I opted for the safer route and spent the evening drinking at one of the many overpriced Australian themed bars in the area.  Between foreign owned bars, bars with stripper poles in the middle, and the greatest concentration of massage parlors on the planet, there wasn't much room left for anything else.  Apparently, many of the massage  studios/parlors/stores (?) are used as fronts to launder money for the local crime syndicates, and 'mI sure the same can be said for the girly bars.  With our overpriced drinks resting firmly in our stomachs, we did what every North American does after they have a few bevvies... hit up the local Subway for a delicious foot long!

She seems to be enjoying her martini.

~Brentski~
 

Day 64- Be Careful With That Arrow Or I Shall Dutch-Oven Your Ass Later!

Another day on the island of Koh Phangan, another day cruising around the island on a moped, and another day of Colleen being scared shitless to ride on the back of a moped with me due to our now numerous crashes.  On that note, we ventured out on what was to be our last day on the island and attempted to make the most of it.

Cruising around the less populated north side of the island was a nice slow start to the day.  But we needed more.  After our failed attempt to locate an archery range that would take our business a couple of days earlier, we decided to try and locate another archery range.  Thankfully, this time we stumbled upon that was open and the two of us were quickly outfitted with some arm brace contraptions and leather finger holders.  I'm guessing this is something that people who partake in archery wear on the regular, so I just strapped on and loaded my arrows like the Robin Hood I am.  Immediately upon shooting (is this what you call it in archery?) our first arrow, Colleen and I both realized that our arms were destroyed from the previous day's activities on the Wipeout course.  I also discovered that I aim better without the little aimer thingy  and quickly took it off when the woman who was supposed to be babysitting us wasn't looking. I would also like to point out that despite the appearance of not being a sport that requires an extreme amount of physical exertion, partaking in archery in Thailand can cause one to suffer from an extreme case of swamp ass.  In fact, I am was actually thinking of opening up a swimming pool in my ass for one of the local ant colonies.  They could probably set-up a wave pool if they really wanted to.  We both had several great shots and many that would probably make a blind man cringe, so I am still up in the air as to whether or not we have a future in competitive couples archery.  My guess is we just got a little bit lucky with a few arrows.

Bulls-eye! No doubt about it!
 

Much better than couples' therapy.

Hair + Arm brace = pure intimidation.

Archery was fun, but if there is one thing I enjoy more than archery it is dirty Mexican food.  So, we set out with our trusty map and headed half way across the island in search of "Ando Loco" in the main town on the island, Thongsala.  Mexican food is a rare treat for me, as there is none where I currently live in Inuvik.  I thus took it upon myself to gorge on fajitas and burritos like there was no tomorrow.  There was also a good chance that Colleen was going to be the victim of multiple Dutch-oven attempts later that evening or the very least have to deal with super-human farts.  Either way, it would seem to be a win-win for her.  Not.

Island life is the good life.

I used my new found Mexican inspired farting power to propel our motorbike back across the island towards our resort.  Seeing as how it was our last night, we decided to stop at a couple of the other beaches along the coast and take some pictures and just see what they were really all about.  Naturally, this was cut short by Colleen's fear of crabs and flying insects so we eventually just headed back to our climate controlled room.

Watch out for those killer crabs!

That evening we again had dinner at another of the generic, Thai-Western restaurants along Haad Salad.  Such crappy food, but such magnificent views.  I must also say I am proud that I finally ate Thai food that evening.  Yes, I am a role model for children everywhere, I know.



Dinner with a view if I say so myself.



So long Koh Phangan.

~Brentski~

Day 63- But They Make Wipeout Look So Easy On TV!

 

Part of the Wipeout course. I'm sure this was going to end well.

Despite my rather disastrous turn on the moped the previous day, Colleen and I were not going to sit around and stare at our damaged bike.  In the name of Zeus we were going to soldier on.  Just a little more slowly and cautiously, that's all!

With that in mind, we jumped on to our metal and plastic death trap and headed down the coast for a joint we had been scoping out a for the last few days: Phangan Wipeout.  Anyone who is familiar with the TV show "Wipeout" (pretty sure everyone knows this show) would have a rough idea of what this was like.  Just imagine it being smaller, not nearly as awesome and lacking corny ass television announcers.  When we arrived around lunch time there were quite a few people already there, although none of them had yet to venture out onto the course.  Somehow, I ended up being the first victim of the day to venture out onto the waters and I made a complete ass of myself.  Since there was a large contingent of people watching me I must admit I was trying exceptionally hard, and by the end of the course my arms were so sore I could barely swim.  After a few other people ventured out, Colleen eventually decided to give the course a go and I must say it provided me with some solid comedic relief.  She even made me swim out and attempt to help her climb one of the inflatable walls so that she could attempt to cross the impossible gigantic balls (no idea what to call these things).  We spent the rest of the afternoon chilling at the Wipeout course and I took a few more stabs at the course between beer and nacho breaks.  I heard that's what real athletes eat.  My greatest success on the course by far was my ability to touch all three of the gigantic balls on multiple occasions (most people couldn't even touch two); even if it happened as I was flailing like a dead fish into the lake below. Our other great accomplishment for the day was that we actually talked to another couple for more than a minute and made an attempt to socialize.  Naturally we left it at that and we shall never hear from or see those food service employees from Ottawa again.

 

  Click below to see the disaster that is Brent on the "giant balls"

 

24" pythons. That's my middle name.
 

You can do it Colleen.

I've got breaking news....CANNONBALL!!!

Brent Fail.

Clearly Colleen and I were both feeling the effects of the obstacle course on the non-existent muscles in our arms, so I did something that I swore I would never do: go for a Thai massage.   if there is ever a time and place to test out whether you like massages or not, Thailand is it.  I paid $8 for a one hour full body massage.  Slightly cheaper than the $105 an hour we pay in Inuvik.  So, after telling me through sign language to strip down to my boxers, some little lady proceeded to walk all over me and twist my body in some God-forsaken ways.  I mean this broad absolutely owned me and I really have no idea how this shit is enjoyable to people.  Factor in that all of this was in an open-air massage den on the beach with lots of people, insects, and everything else coming and going and I just don't see the appeal.  Oh, and did I mention that the not-so attractive lady's lubed-up hands kept getting alarmingly close to my family jewels?  It would be one thing if it was Carrie Underwood my girlfriend, but when it's an unattractive middle-aged woman with a non-existent dental plan, having your balls grazed repeatedly just loses its appeal.



Please don't tickle my bum hole. I repeat please don't tickle my bum hole.



Thankfully we made it through our massage session in one piece and after all of this Colleen now decided that she wanted to get her entire mop of hair braided.  This ended up being a three hour session, and I don't think she will mind if I now say that at the time she looked like some escaped lesbian jailbird who should have been cast as an extra on "Orange Is The New Black".  And what I of course mean by this is that I loved her hairstyle!



Transformation in progress.  The woman in the background seems impressed.



Nice hairdo. How many people did you say you beat up in prison?!

That evening we tried out another one of the beachside restaurants.  We ended up having a table right on the beach and I must say that view wise it was one of the better dinners of my life.  Food wise, all I can say is that my $9 filet mignon tasted like, well it tasted like a $9 filet mignon.  I really have to get into Thai food!



Nice way to end the evening.





Don't steal from this store or it will be a bad ending to your evening.



~Brentski~

Day 62- Driving Moped Hung Over = Worst Wipeout Of Life!

Our lovely resort, where I should have stayed instead of venturing out for the day.

 Following the debacle that was the previous night's foray into cheap Thai liquor, all-night raves, and blacked out taxi rides, you would be safe to assume that the next day was a write off.  And you would be one-hundred and ten percent correct. 

Colleen and I both slept in until well after lunch and to say that I was feeling shitty would be the understatement of the year.  I never used to believe people when they would tell me that hangovers became immensely worse the older you got, but believe me kids it is a nasty fact.  The difference between a morning after partying when you are 19 years old and when you are 28 years old is night and day.  On that note, the girlfriend and I made our way down to the resort's restaurant for some crappy Western food that was going to be the magical cure-all for our hangovers.  FAIL.  For some reason, Fettuccini Alfredo just doesn't have the same appeal when you are eating it on an island in Thailand baking under the hot sun and sweating out mass amounts of the previous day's alcohol.

I have a bad feeling about this day....

Since Colleen's energy levels were even lower than mine, she decided to retreat back to the room for the day while I felt the need to take my moped out for a cruise around the island.  In my infinite wisdom I believed that driving around the island and taking in the lovely scenery would make me feel better.  Instead, I somehow got lost for a couple hours and when I finally located the road back to our resort I was beyond relieved; that was until I hit a patch of sand on the road and dropped the motorbike going at a decent speed (not sure how fast, as the whole incident happened so quickly).  Having read numerous warnings and whatnot in various guidebooks, I was well aware of the dangers of sand patches on the roads of Koh Phangan.  There are hundreds of stories of tourists who have ended up in hospitals and with rather largesse medical and repair bills for mopeds after losing control of their bikes on sand patches.  And here I was, just another statistic.  Stupidly, I was not wearing a helmet at the time of the accident (we will just say my head was too swollen from all the booze), and I was wearing flip flops, shorts and a t-shirt.  This in turn led me to wind up with some serious scrapes on my back, shoulders, elbows, knees, and feet.  Oh, and a bruised ego.  That hurt the most.  Thankfully, I was able to walk away from the accident and there was no traffic around me when I swan dived onto the road.  What I was most concerned about was the repair bill I was likely going to be facing for the almost-new moped that now had some serious scratches from one end to the other.  FUCK MY LIFE!

No idea what and eye and/or ear irrigation is, but I'll probably need one.
 

So beautiful, until you crash that is.

Once I was able to scrape the bike and my ego up off the road, I drove back to the resort, albeit a lot more cautiously.  Colleen, being the loving lady that she is was just happy I was in one piece and also that she had decided to stay in that afternoon.  But mostly, we will say she was just happy for my well being!  After cleaning up my scrapes and trying to guess how much the repair bill would be, the two of us went out for dinner at another of the beachside restaurants on Haad Salad.  Although I probably could have used some  alcohol to numb the pain, my liver needed a break, so we sipped our non-alcoholic drinks while being harassed by Thai waiters and stray dogs begging for food. Paradise I tell ya!



"Don't give me food? Fine I'll piss on your BBQ"
 



How could I say no to this?!

~Brentski~

Note:  When operating motor vehicles that require you to wear a helmet; do it!  Don't act like you are some cool Rico Suave motherfucker.  Helmets save lives.  Also, so do condoms, seat belts, and Chuck Norris.

Do as Chuck would do.