Wednesday, May 11, 2011- No Heat, No Stove, No Hot Water, No Problem! (Inuvik Part 4)

Before moving to Inuvik, Northwest Territories, two of the more intriguing things that I worried about were what my living conditions were going to be like and what the hell did people do for entertainment around these here parts in the winter! Well my friends, I shall attempt to address these not-so-pressing questions, in this my final "introductory" blog to life above the Arctic Circle. Before moving up here, one of the "perks" of the job I was promised was my own one bedroom apartment, complete with all the furnishings that one could ask for. On top of this, my employer subsidizes half of our rent, so I thought it would be a pretty much straight forward winning session! Well this notion I had drummed up in my tiny brain was quickly shot down, as upon my arrival in the -30°C temperatures the first thing I managed to notice was that there were two service trucks outside of my new apartment. My boss casually informed me that they had been having some "issues" with the heating in the building. Not exactly the first thing you want to hear upon arrival in a place like Inuvik in early January, but my options for a place to live were pretty limited. With that in mind, I unpacked my two suitcases that possessed all of my worldly possessions and attempted to settle into my new apartment. Myself and the new apartment had issues right out of the gate. While the apartment was a fair-sized one bedroom apartment with a full kitchen and bathroom, it was apparent almost immediately that she (yes, my apartment is a female for all intensive purposes) and I would not always be seeing eye-to-eye. As I started to settle into the new pad, I quickly discovered that there were some issues with my apartment that were not going to be patched up anytime soon. First, was the aforementioned heating. Turns out there were some major heating issues throughout the whole building. Let me tell you, there is nothing at all appealing about having to watch TV with your full "outdoor" gear on, or sleep with your parka on. In addition to my heating that probably worked less than 20% of the time, I also had a oven that did not work and three out of the four burners on my stove were not working at times either. Factor in that my toilet also ran non-stop and my television was a complete piece of shit that made everything look like it was from a television show set on Mars and you have all the makings of a legendary apartment. Oh, and did I mention that my "fully furnished" kitchen came with exactly ZERO pieces of kitchenware. Not even a fuckin' spork I tell ya! Most of the problems with my apartment I came to live with, and I addressed the heating issue by purchasing a small space heater, which it turns out was a terrible idea as it was more than doubling my hydro bill and was mildly effective at best! Those first few weeks I must say I was definitely questioning what the hell I had gotten myself into. Luckily, things in the living department took a sudden change for the better... After surviving not only the coldest and darkest month of my life (we were getting at one point less than four hours of sunlight a day) I was randomly told one day that an apartment had opened up on the bottom floor of my building, which were considered the "premium" apartments as they were built in the last couple of years. A far cry from the apartments on the top two floors of the building which resembled the crack dens you might see in 70s blaxploitation films, shag carpeting and all. Since I had the worst apartment on the block, I was thus given the keys to a new place and let me tell you it was like night and day! While it had a very similar layout to my original apartment, it was far more modern, had a much larger bathroom, all new appliances, and even came with kitchen supplies! I must say, I have settled into my new apartment quite nicely, and having heat definitely doesn't hurt either. The only major problem with it is the fact that I often times have no hot water in my shower. Now I have done many things in my life that are pretty joyless (see: agreeing to let women pluck your eyebrows while intoxicated), but taking an ice cold shower when it's -40°C outside might definitely take the cake. I contemplated complaining about this, but given what I had just moved from I figured it was best to keep my pie hole shut. Having said all that, it is now the middle of May and I have settled in quite nicely, my hot water is not quite as fleeting as it once was and I can say my apartment actually feels a little bit like "my home" now. A touching story, I know. Now on to the more pressing issue of WHAT THE FUCK DO PEOPLE DO FOR ENTERTAINMENT IN INUVIK? While I wish I could tell you some romantic tale of me cooking moose meat by an open fire, but the reality is that our main source of entertainment up here revolves around drinking heavily and making asses out of ourselves (or is that just me?). The busiest spot in town on any given night is the only real bar/pub in town called "The Mad Trapper". If you ever want to see an eclectic crew on a dance floor, than this place is your kingdom. On any given night, you can see people as old as eighty working on their dance moves beside kids who are barely of legal age to drink. All this, while Lady Gaga or Eminem plays over the sound system, makes for some ridiculous moments to say the least. Add to this equation the fact that they have also have a cover band (they come up from the south and usually stay for about two months at a time) playing every night and my friend you've got yourself a proper venue for a nightly hoedown! As mentioned, the crowd at the "Trapper" as its affectionately known is very wide-ranging, with a good mix of locals and southerners alike and people of all ages, shapes, and colours. To say that I've had only a few rough nights there would be like Pamela Anderson saying she's only nibbled on a few wieners. The only other real social/drinking venue in town aside from the pub and the restaurant where I work is "Shivers Lounge", which is conveniently located right across the hallway from my place of employment in the ground floor of the Mackenzie Hotel. While I do go there on occasion, it's not usually to get loser pissed. It's the place to go when you want to watch the UFC pay-per-views or maybe just have a quieter/more reserved night. As it is quite expensive to drink up here at the bars (and at home for that matter) we usually have a pre-party at someone's apartment in our building. These are quite easy to bring together, as almost all of the restaurant staff live in the same building. We also used to have a good amount of after parties that would usually run until like 6:00am, but these have slowed down as of late due to noise complaints from other neighbours, that in turn leads to us being given final warnings before being evicted and thus having to go live at the Inuvik Homeless Shelter. While the shelter might make for some interesting stories, I'm not too keen to move in there just yet! Other than the aforementioned hobby of professional partying, most of my other past times generally tend to be the same as back home. I spend a lot of time stalking people on Facebook, watching TV, reading and when I feel really energetic, working out (sorry for the bad mental image ladies)! When I'm not working, I also tend to hang out with my friends a bit and occasionally some of the gentlemen arrange for a game of poker, which almost always involves me losing a nice chunk of my pay cheque. The only really "northern" winter activity I have experienced since being up here was that I got to go out snowmobiling a couple of times thanks to my boss being generous and letting me borrow one of his brand new sleds. I must say this was super-awesome fun, even if I did fall off the sled once going 60/mph and found myself doing multiple somersaults beside my sled as it drove away from me and witnessing my life flash before my eyes! Never one to be deterred by near death experiences, I forged on and had must say some of the scenery I saw in the bush surrounding Inuvik was some of the most spectacular I've seen anywhere! Aside from the sledding, I don't venture outside too often except to get from Point A to Point B using the old heel-toe express. I was supposed to go dog-sledding (the big touristy thing to do here in the winter), but ended up putting it off a bunch of times and will now wait for next winter until I try to tame the wild mutts. From here on out, I shall try to add a blog update as I see fit, which will probably be every few weeks unless something crazy happens that I feel I should document. Before that though I will first post a couple of blogs that will document my trip home in the month of April that will document amongst other things a bachelor party, rave, 4/20 rally, wedding, trip to Florida, and a bunch of other shenanigans. Thanks everyone for reading and be prepared....my next blog might be slightly ridiculous! Cheers, ~Brent~

Monday, May 9, 2011- If Only I Had The Balls To Kick Drunks Out. Wait, That's What Girls Are For! (Inuvik Part 3)

As is to be expected when dealing with one, Brent Moreau, I have become quite lazy over the last two and a half months and this has in turn led to a blog output of exactly zero. Now, I know that the world basically hinges on every single word I write, so with that in mind, let me get back to my tales of Arctic life. Well it would be nice to think that I came up to Inuvik just to check out the sites, the reality is that I am a man who possesses no financial wealth and therefore had to work. As previously mentioned, I was hired over the phone by way of an internet ad, so both my employer and myself were going to be in for a bit of a surprise. I knew that it was probably going to be a bit different than working as a waiter down south, as let's face it, restaurant clientele in Toronto varies slightly from that of a town that is currently buried under snow and twenty-one hours of daily sunlight in the middle of May. After settling into my apartment, I was immediately put to work the next day and proceeded to work a healthy amount of hours right of the gate which I think was most beneficial for getting back into the groove of things. One of the things that first struck me as amusing at the restaurant was the fact that almost everyone, and I mean everyone employed there was from somewhere other than Inuvik. Apparently I am not the only who thinks moving to one of the coldest and remote places in Canada is a novel idea. Of the eight people who are employed as servers/waiters, I am oddly the only who hails from the great province of Ontario. There are three girls from British Columbia, one from Nova Scotia, and another who is "local" but spent a chunk of her youth going to school in British Columbia. The other two male servers, consist of one dude from Quebec and a man is who is somewhat of a local legend by the name of Ernst, who claims to be 69 years old and hails from the beautiful alpine nation of Austria. Aside from Ernst, the other seven wait staff all fall between the ages of 20-30 years old and aside from the occasional melee at work, we all seem to get along pretty well. In addition to the wait staff, both of the managers/owners are from the Ottawa area and like the servers, the cooks seem to come from every corner of Canada as well. I think when it's all said and done, we have between 20-25 employees and to my knowledge there is only one person (a dishwasher) who is actually a true local. It's safe to say it's an interesting mix of people and we all somehow come together to make the restaurant function at a respectable level 95% of the time! (Yeah, we have our occasional days where shit hits the fan at about 150km/hour). As with any job that doesn't come with a guaranteed salary, I was obviously slightly worried about what my take home pay would be like. It's one thing to read numbers online that guesstimate what you are going to make in a month, but it's a completely different thing to actually have that money in front of you. One of the things that immediately appealed to me was the fact that at my new place of employment we did not have to pool our tips with the other staff. For those of you who have not worked in the service industry, this basically means that we get to keep whatever tips we make. Traditionally in most restaurants, you have to give anywhere from 1.5%-4.5% of your total sales amount to the restaurant at the end of the night, which they then divide up between the kitchen staff, hostesses, bus boys, etc. So for example, if I worked at Red Lobster (delicious!) and sold $1000 worth of food for the night, I could expect to hopefully make $150 in tips if everyone tipped me around 15%. At the end of the night, I would have to give $30 to the restaurant, assuming my tip out was set at 3%. So, while I may have generated $150 in tips, I would only go home with $120 of it. Having said all that though, our tip percentages on bills in Inuvik are generally lower than those found to the south, so it kind of works out to be about the same amounts anyways. Back home, you would generally be super-pissed off to ever see a tip below 12-13% on your bills. Up here, it is not uncommon for people to tip you nothing on bills. I can't even count the number of times I've had bills totaling hundreds of dollars and watched as the customer leaves you no gratuity, or if they're feeling generous a tip in the 1% range. When I first arrived up here, that kind of stuff used to really piss me off and anger me, but I quickly learned to laugh at it and just accept it as part of being an "Arctic Server"! Now, having said, there are a lot of people up here who are very generous with their tips and tip far better than 99% of the population to the south. At breakfast it is an almost daily occurrence where you will encounter someone who will tip you over 100% of the bill ($20 on a $9 bill is the common one). While, I may think these people are slightly crazy, it is genuinely appreciated, and really helps to offset all of the people who sit there and wait for their thirteen cents change! Having said all of that and without getting into monetary figures, in conclusion I am actually making more money on a monthly basis than I was told I would be when I was hired so I have no complaints. Now if only I could learn to unlove alcohol, gambling, and just general wasting of money, I might actually be able to save a little scratch while I'm up here! But seeing as how none of those are probably going to come to fruition, I guess I'll have to settle for having a good time instead! While the job is generally pretty uneventful and similar to serving anywhere else, there are definitely some moments up here that make me shake my head and wonder "what the fuck?" out loud! The most obvious thing in Inuvik that I can say I've never encountered on a regular basis before is the amount of heavily intoxicated people who come into the restaurant. It doesn't matter if its 8:00am on a Monday morning or 7:00pm on Friday night, people up here generally like to get fucked up! I can't even begin to count the number of drunks we have to refuse service to. Most of them tend to take the news okay and leave the restaurant without incident, although there are always some who won't go without a fight. I generally have a tough time kicking people out as I'm a pussy, so I often times will get my female coworkers to do the dirty work for me. Below is a quick list off of the top of my head of some of the more memorable customer experiences I can recall (both drunk and non-drunk) from my first four months serving up here: - I remember one incident where a heavily intoxicated gentleman decided to call one of my coworkers every name imaginable until she called the police to get him escorted off of the premises. Needless to say he wasn't one of the "happy drunks" and women don't like being called "c**ts" in front of other customers. - One guy was so drunk on a Tuesday morning, that after refusing him service, I let him use the bathroom and on the way out he got lost in the restaurant and couldn't find the entrance. Did I mention our restaurant is small and rectangular?! - I once had to help a homeless man out of the restaurant, as he was severely drunk. After aiding him up out of his chair by giving him a helping hand, I was told by a fellow worker to never touch that man's hands as it is apparently common knowledge that he frequently urinates all over himself and in particular his hands. Haha. - The strangest table I can recall was during Sunday brunch, when a family pulled me over to their table and asked me my name. After giving them my name, they asked if it was okay that they prayed for me. Not wanting to offend, I obliged and next thing I knew, I had six people holding hands in a circle in the middle of a busy Sunday brunch thanking Jesus for my awesome service! I just stood there like a tool not really sure what to do! - Sadly, my celebrity sightings in Inuvik are pretty limited and generally constitute serving the mayor and his cronies a couple of times a week. Other than that we have managed to serve a German film crew and a gospel choir group from Toronto. All rather fifth rate celebrities if I say so myself! - Lastly, this past Saturday I had three kids in their early twenties who were all heavily intoxicated come in for breakfast at about 8:00am who it appeared had been up all night drinking. One of the two girls basically asked me what I could "do for her" at the table. I told her that oral sex on the job is usually frowned upon by management. Shortly thereafter, the really drunk dude told me I looked like Jacob from "Twilight" to which I replied, "If I looked like Jacob from Twilight I'd be having a lot more luck with the ladies. You are clearly quite drunk my man!" They then proceeded to light up one of those fake cigarettes designed to help people quit smoking right in the middle of the restaurant floor! It was around this time that I just gave up... Although it may sound a bit nuts at times, I am genuinely enjoying working up here and all the characters make it that much more interesting. Despite my stories, most of the people here are pretty classy folks and cause no trouble at all. The work crew is pretty solid and I look forward to what should hopefully be a pretty busy summer season full of lots of tourists and locals alike. I'm sure there will be lots more stories of the interesting clientele that make Inuvik, well Inuvik! Good times all around. Happy Mother's Day to all the mothers out there and keep it classy people. ~Brent~

Sunday, February 27, 2011- When You Start Buying Your Cereal In Bags… Well Let’s Just Say You Can Only Go Uphill From There (Inuvik Part 2)

After stepping out of the plane, it was official; I had arrived in Inuvik, and I was officially (okay, maybe not officially) a resident of Canada living north of the Arctic Circle. Upon disembarkation from the plane, the few other passengers and I hustled into the airport where I was greeted by my new boss Joe, who I’m guessing was able to pick me out with relative ease. Having only spoken to my new employer over the phone and through email, he was nothing like I imagined him looking like. For some reason that I’m still not sure of, I had drawn up this picture in my head of a short bald man, when in fact he was about 6’6” and had a full mop of hair! Can’t say I was even close on that one. With my fictitious portrayal now blown to shreds, we loaded up my life possessions/two suitcases into his bright yellow Hummer and headed into town for the grand tour. Since Joe has been living up here for around twenty years, he was able to give me an ample tour of the town and all that Inuvik has to offer. We drove around for the better part of an hour and I was shown many of the businesses and amenities on tap in this, the hub of the Western Arctic. Since I have now been living up here for just under two months, I shall attempt to pass on the little that I have absorbed about the town so far.

The first thing that surprised me upon driving into town was just how sprawling Inuvik is for a town of 3,300 people. I must admit, I was expecting a town with a couple major roads and maybe one or two really small subdivisions. Well it is true, that there is only one major road, Mackenzie Road, it’s safe to say that the outlying houses seem to stretch for a fair distance in every direction. Many of the houses are brightly coloured and are of the modular construction variety. Apparently, the houses were first painted these colours because the powers that be felt it would increase morale and happiness amongst the Arctic dwellers during the long, dark winters. Now, maybe it’s just me, but seeing a purple house is generally not going to make me any happier. All it’s going to get out of me is a confused look and some self-questioning like, “how much weed did that dude smoke when he decided to paint his siding?” In addition to being brightly coloured, most of the building foundation structures are built on piles of rock, which prevents the permafrost from getting at them and turning the ground to mush. Another bizarre feature that you don’t see in your every day down south subdivision is large conduit boxes that run through the whole town and seemingly connect every home and business. The conduit boxes measure probably about two feet by two feet and sit a couple of feet off of the ground. Much like the foundations of the buildings, these conduits which contain various pipelines such as water, heat, and sewage are built above the ground to avoid the many problems that the permafrost poses.

Since Inuvik is considered “the gateway” to the Western Arctic and also happens to be the largest populated town in the area, it serves as both the commercial and administrative capital for the area. While it is a small town, it is remarkably the third largest populated town in the Northwest Territories, trailing only the capital Yellowknife (pop, 16,000) and Hay River (pop. 3,600). Since both of those communities are significantly further south, Inuvik is by default the capital of the Arctic region. It acts as the main hub for a number of outlying native communities, with such exotic names as Tuktoyaktuk, Aklavik, and Paulatuk. This in turn means we have a relatively modern and well-equipped hospital, a whole slew of government buildings, a library, a golf driving range/small course, cross country skiing facilities and a recreation centre that rivals and is in fact bigger and better than most of the ones you will see elsewhere in the country. The recreation centre has a hockey rink, squash courts, curling rink, fitness centre, various banquet rooms and bars, and the icing on the cake; a swimming pool complete with fake palm trees! And that’s just the stuff I know about. I’m sure somewhere in the complex they’ve got some sort of hidden bat cave or an evil petting zoo complete with sharks with freakin’ laser beams attached to their heads.

In addition to all of the social services on tap, the town is also home to a number of businesses. On a national front, the one bank in town is a CIBC, so your options on that front are pretty limited. Inuvik also has a Rexall Pharmacy, Home Hardware, and my personal favourite, a KFC/Pizza Hut Express. Other than that, most of the businesses to my knowledge are locally owned, or at least unique to Northern Canada. Some of my personal favourites, include establishments with names like Arctic Digital, Arctic Foods, and Shivers Lounge. There is definitely an underlying theme to a lot of the names, and it is a general rule that if the name of the business doesn’t relate to the cold weather, it has to somehow tie-in to the fact that in the summer we are known as “the land of the midnight sun”.

One business that is truly unique to Inuvik has no name (at least to my knowledge), but the man who runs it is somewhat of a local legend. He goes by the name, “Bill The Fruit Man”, and pimping produce to the locals is his racket. Now as I understand it through talking to co-workers and such, this fellow Bill drives his 18-wheeler big rig down to Vancouver (I think about 3500km each way) and fills his truck to the tits with a wide assortment of produce and groceries. It takes him about ten days to complete the round trip and when he gets back, he sets up shop in a parking lot on the main street and his truck is converted into a makeshift store if you will. The word on the street was that he had much better produce than the local stores and at far better prices. So one day a few weeks ago I headed down to visit “The Fruit Man”, and I must admit I was pleasantly surprised. As promised, his prices were much lower, his produce was respectable (a lot of it in this town is pure grade-A shit), and the novelty of doing my grocery shopping in the back of a big rig was pretty sweet, if not a little bit chilly.

On the opposite end of the fruit truck spectrum is the Mecca of all stores in Inuvik and many a northern community, the aptly named North Mart. Yes, it’s actually called North Mart. The best way to describe it is a poor man’s Wal-Mart. It sells a wide variety of stuff, from electronics to clothing to groceries. The only difference is that everything is about two to three times as much as you would pay for it in the south, and it is usually of two to three times poorer quality. Most of the shit you buy there, makes you realize why people shudder and gasp when they purchase products featuring the famous, “Made in China” tag. I purchased a number of household items there when I first arrived, and it’s safe to say that you couldn’t find crap this bad in the free section of your local Salvation Army back in Toronto.

One question I am often asked by the curious citizens of the south (everywhere is the south from here) is how much stuff costs up here. To put it bluntly, A LOT OF FUCKIN’ MONEY! It goes without saying, that the main staples of my diet are Kraft Dinner, Mr. Noodles, canned beans, canned tuna, and no-name Froot Loops. After scanning a recent receipt from my grocery shopping expedition to North Mart, here are a few prices:
Milk (2L) - $7.04
Apples- $5.69/kg
Bananas- $6.35/kg
Ruffles Potato Chips- $4.59
Pepsi Max (2L) - $3.69
Becel Margarine (454g) - $5.69
And these are just some of the things I actually do buy. Other things that are way out of my price range include things like Delissio frozen pizzas (almost $20 if I’m not mistaken), Tropicana orange juice (2L, goes for almost $10), and don’t even get me started on the name brand cereals. Safe to say, I now purchase cereal that comes in a bag, not a box, a bag. Yes, I have arrived in life!

Aside from North Mart, the next busiest place in town, or the busiest depending on the time of week, and one that I am fond of donating to is the Inuvik Liquor Store. Located off the main drag, the store is pretty unassuming, with not a single window and two steel doors that would not be out of place in Kingston Penitentiary. One can only assume that the lack of windows and Hulk-proof doors are to prevent break-ins. Drinking is seen as a professional sport up here, and well athletes need fuel to keep up their athletic endeavours (great analogy, right?). Or on the other hand, maybe they just don’t want people to see the price of beer before they get in the front door. My first visit there, I could hardly believe it, a 12-pack of Bud was $32! No, that’s not a typo. Beer generally costs just under $60 for a 24-pack of the cheaper varieties. If you feel like drinking something like Corona or Heineken, well my friend you better take out a second mortgage on your house! One other comical aspect was that if you want to buy cold beer out of their fridge they tack on a “cold surcharge”. This amounts to $3 for a 12-pack and $1.50 for a 6-pack. Clearly, I’m in the wrong business. Despite beer prices being almost double what they are back home, I was surprised to see that liquor, wine, coolers, etc were only slightly more expensive than they were in my past life. I have recently tried to drink more spirits and wine, but I almost always end going back to the barley. Safe to say that old habits die hard, or in this case die hard with a northern pricing premium tacked on!

Until next time, stay classy and much love to everyone…

~Brent~

Thursday, January 13, 2010- I Think I Took A Wrong Turn (Inuvik Part 1)

So, where to begin…that is the question. Let me first start by saying to everyone who has asked over the last couple of months that NO I am not crazy and secondly my fingers, toes, and testicles have not frozen off; yet. For those not in the know, I Brent Moreau aka BigIdiotStick have moved to what many people refer to as the end of the earth, or as it is formally known, Inuvik, Northwest Territories, Canada (population 3,300).

The first and most obvious question that people have asked me over the last couple of months is why move to one of the coldest and darkest places in the world when you have a perfectly good job at home in the Greater Toronto Area, and all your family and friends are here? The honest answer is, I really don’t know! After returning home in mid-November after spending a year in Australia, I quickly returned to my previous occupation in Toronto working as an Industrial-Commercial carpenter. Within a few days of returning to work (or possibly even a few minutes) I promptly remembered why I left for Australia in the first place; I hated my job and wanted to do something different! Now there’s nothing wrong with construction, in fact it is a very, very lucrative career depending on who you work for, but at the end of the day after five years of doing it I actually dreaded going to work. It was a career I fell into as a 21 year-old through a friend and subsequently became a job that was hard to leave as the money was good. Due to my not following up on my college education, I was left with very little other career options that paid well, with male prostitution clearly out of the picture as my balls were starting to sag. On top of my lack of job love, I was also newly single, coming out of a three year relationship and suddenly found myself with a lot of time to think about ME and what I wanted to do (selfish, I know). Add to all of this that I really had no possessions anymore as I had sold or got rid of most of them before I went to Australia and you have yourself a man with very little ties outside of his family and friends.

After deciding that a “life change” was needed, I started browsing internet job sites to see what was out there for a useless twat like me. Almost immediately I started looking at a few jobs in the restaurant-service industry, as that is the other area outside of construction where I have worked fairly extensively since I was a teenager. After visiting a few websites and looking at a ton of jobs both in the Toronto area and abroad, I decided that a move was definitely in order if I could make it happen. I thought long and hard about applying to a few upscale restaurants in the Caribbean that were hiring, but for some reason I kept going back to this job posting for the position of “Server” at a restaurant located in some place I had never heard of called Inuvik. After doing some quick research on the internet, I soon discovered that Inuvik was about as far north as you can go in Canada and still have some semblance of civilization and modern life. For some reason (still unknown to me) I thought this sounded like a fantastic opportunity to not only visit, but get to fully experience a place on earth, and in my own country, that very few people ever get to. So, with these visions of grandeur in my eyes, I sent off my one and only resume with the hopes of hearing back; preferably from a man who lived in an igloo and wore a seal skin coat.

Within a few days of sending off my resume for the position of server at a restaurant in Inuvik, Northwest Territories, I received an email from the boss, Joe, stating that he was interested in hiring me. After a few emails back and forth, mostly consisting of me asking ridiculous questions about living in the Arctic we arranged for a phone interview. The phone interview went according to plan for me, and I was offered a job after a lengthy conversation. Joe told me to think about it for a few days, but I already knew that I was going to go, as I was on the brink of suicide at my other job (3+ hours a day of commuting in GTA traffic will do this to a man). During our conversations and emails, Joe explained to me that I would be making $12/hour in addition to tips and would be subsidized half of my $1000 rent, meaning that for $500/month I would get my own fully furnished apartment in the building right next to the restaurant. This also meant that I wouldn’t need a car, which was a big bonus, as I am no longer a big fan of spending all my cash on automobiles. Also, I was told that on days when I was working, I would be entitled to free meals at the restaurant which would go a long way towards keeping the grocery bill to a minimum. Lastly, I was told that for every year you work, you are entitled to one free round trip flight (just pay the taxes) anywhere you want to go in the world, as the boss amasses a ton of Aeroplan Miles through the business and uses them to give his employees these flights. I immediately informed Joe that I would need to have some vacation time in April, as one of my best friends was getting married back home and he said that would be no problem. With the last of the small kinks sorted out and most of my questions answered, I saddled up for my last few weeks of construction work that would take me through to New Year’s Eve and started counting the days. Thankfully, before I left for the balmy -40°C winter temperatures of Inuvik on January 12th, my family went on a Caribbean cruise at the start of the New Year that served as a final farewell before Brent Moreau descended into what would probably be a cold, dark winter above the Arctic Circle.

When the morning of my flight finally rolled around, I gathered up the last of my belongings and had my Mommy take me to the airport. I had learned a day prior that the airline I would be travelling on from Whitehorse to Inuvik only allowed their passengers 44 pounds of luggage. This is a far cry from what most major airlines allow you to travel with (100 pounds), and does not lend itself well to people like myself who are moving or relocating. After some careful consideration (I decided I did not need to pack my solid lead balls and novelty cocaine bricks) I managed to get my luggage down to seventy-odd pounds and felt I could not go any lower. I knew I would be hit with a luggage surcharge, but the fact is a brother needs his clothes! With that in mind, I said so long to my mom and boarded the first of my three flights around 4:00pm, this one bound for Vancouver. After arriving in Vancouver, I had a layover for a few hours before my short flight up to Whitehorse, the capital city of the Yukon. I tried to sleep for a bit in the airport, but when this failed I decided to partake in my second favourite activity, eating cheeseburgers and drinking beers. Finally around 11:00pm local time (2:00am Toronto time), I boarded a 50-seater plane and headed further north than I had ever been in my life! We arrived with little fanfare as the last flight of the night coming into the small Whitehorse airport, and I had planned to just sleep in the airport, as my Air North flight to Inuvik was departing first thing in the morning. After everyone had collected their luggage and loaded into their cars and taxis, I was informed by the sole airport employee that they would be closing up for the night. At this point I started to have a slight internal panic attack, as I had no fuckin’ idea what to do and all other forms of human life were now long gone. Here I was in the Whitehorse airport at 2:00am with nowhere to go and my plans of crashing there for a few hours now foiled. The gentleman working not-so kindly informed me that there were two hotels about 800 metres away, and seeing as how I wasn’t exactly in south Florida, sleeping outside the terminal was not a wise option. Next thing I knew, there I was in all my glory, lugging almost 80 pounds of luggage down the road in the middle of the night to some overpriced hotel that I would only be staying in for a few hours. Oh, and did I mention that it was -35°C outside!? I ended up having to pay $120 for a hotel room that I spent a total of less than five hours in, and they didn’t even throw in a complimentary hooker service or even a continental breakfast! My first taste of “northern inflation” as I like to call it.

The next morning, I was up bright and early; although this time I was able to get a free shuttle to the airport and not have to worry about trudging through the cold with my luggage. After checking in and paying for my excess baggage, it was time to load the plane. I was not really sure what to expect, although it was safe to assume I wasn’t expecting a plane with personal entertainment units and flight attendants in revealing skirts. Low and behold, Air North apparently has the oldest fleet of turbo-prop planes still out there. The plane had space for about 25 people and came complete with interior wood paneling, ash trays, and the smallest seats you have ever seen. I’ve been on some pretty dodgy aircraft in my life, but this was definitely near the top of the list. The flight to Inuvik was a few hours, although we first had to stop off in Dawson City, Yukon, which at one point used to be one of Canada’s largest boom cities during the Klondike gold rush in the late 1800s. Now, Dawson City is a small town of just over a thousand people, but has established itself as a major tourist destination in the summer months, with over 60,000 people visiting it every year. Hell, the place even has a casino! Well the town may be booming in the summer months, the same cannot be said for its airport in the winter, which was the size of a large bedroom. It was official; I had arrived in the north. I’m not sure when it hit me first, when I was standing in the “airport” that was little more than a derelict log cabin or when I was sitting on the runway in Dawson City on a plane with no heat on and temperatures approaching -40°C. Despite both of those making convincing cases for my true arrival, I think it was upon departure from Dawson City, when I was on the plane with only six other people, consisting of a lady who worked with a dog sledding company and a family of five people who were travelling on to an even more remote Native community. Yes, I had arrived in the Arctic!

After taking in some spectacular scenery from the plane on the descent into the airport in Inuvik, I had feelings of both nervousness and curiousness going through my tiny brain. I had never been further north than Edmonton before and aside from a bit of internet research had no idea what to expect, as nobody I personally knew had ever lived in such a place. With that in mind, I stepped off the plane and headed out into the great unknown…

Sunday, January 9, 2011- What’s Your Club’s Policy On String Belts?

Thursday morning on the cruise ship brought a welcome relief to me. I was waking up without the slightest trace of a hangover, the sun was shining and we were docked in every banker’s favourite place, George Town in the Grand Cayman Islands. Kiel unfortunately was not feeling up to the task of trekking around the island, so I headed out with Nat, Jeff, and my mom. The four of us ended up hopping in a cab and heading over to the main beach, where Jeff and I promptly left the ladies to lay in the sun as we headed out for greener pastures. After a quick stop off at a Wendy’s (very Americanized island) and an internet café to check my emails (internet on boats = really expensive and slow to boot) the two of us found ourselves settling into one of the local watering holes sipping away on Caymanian beer. A few brews and a couple of complimentary Jager-bombs later, it was safe to say our Thursday was headed in the right direction. After sauntering back to the beach to round up the Moreau ladies, we cabbed it back to the boat loading area. On our drive, our cabbie provided us with some great knowledge of the island and I was surprised to learn how tough it was to find work there right now, as apparently even they were not immune to the Global Financial Crisis. Couple that in with the fact that a hurricane wiped out a few of the major hotels a couple years prior, and let’s just say the Caymans aren’t quite the utopia that everyone thinks they are. Once back on the ship, Jeff, Kiel, my dad and I made our way to down to the showroom for some afternoon Bingo. Due to Kiel’s persistent heckling of the DJ all week, we had amassed a monster stack of free Bingo cards in addition to purchasing some. Sadly, we did not win any of the games, although in one game that featured a prize of $300 I was the first player in the room down to one number, but ended up losing like the big donkey I am. With my Bingo defeat still fresh in my mind, I stuffed my face with another amazing dinner before settling back into the old routine of post-dinner gambling and drinking. Since it was Thursday, this meant it was the second night of the blackjack tournament that still saw Kiel on top of the leader board from night one. Jeff and I both took another crack at it, and I ended up getting lucky early in the night and found myself in first place. If my score could hold on for a few hours I would be playing in the finals at 11:30pm that night, although seeing as how it wasn’t even 9:00pm yet chances are I was going to be tuned by the time the finals rolled around. With that in mind, Jeff, Kiel, Nat, Jenn and I played a little poker and some roulette to try and kill the time before the finals. Somewhere in all of this, Jeff decided to get absolutely annihilated and had to be put to bed by his loving and I’m sure totally understanding girlfriend Natalie. When the dust finally settled, Kiel and I both made the final table of the winner take all ($500) blackjack tournament. I qualified in second and Kiel just snuck in the last/seventh spot. At the final table, we had a fairly big crowd watching us, which only fuelled mine and Kiel’s ridiculous drunken banter. Before we commenced, Kiel and I agreed to split the money if either of us won (bad idea Brent!). Well to cut a long story short, seven hands of blackjack later I was the blackjack grandmaster of the ship and was $500 richer. After exchanging high fives and congratulations from people I didn’t even know, I looked over to see Kiel waiting to collect his share. Using the power of mind control, I managed to talk him down to only taking $200, which left me with a cool $275 after tipping the dealer $25 for dealing me the best cards ever! Feeling like a champion, the party posse headed over to the nightclub, where things quickly got sloppy. The club was pretty popping that night by ship standards and Kiel quickly jumped into the mix. Now something I failed to mention was that Kiel had somehow lost two belts that week and had to resort to wearing a shoestring tied around his waist to hold his pants up. We liked comparing him to Nelson off of “The Simpsons”, because I am pretty sure he is the only other person (real or fictionalized) to ever pull this stunt. Add in that Kiel was drinking a 60oz of contraband vodka out of a two-litre pop bottle with his shirt tucked in, and you have yourself one helluva mess on the dance floor. While Kiel was dolling out his vodka to anyone who could drink it (male nursing students and such), Natalie had since run into her old high school friend Kellie who had started buying her shots. Next thing I knew, Natalie could barely walk, and Kellie, Jenn, and I along with a couple of other people had to literally carry Natalie and all her dead weight up two stories of the ship to her room. Toss in the fact that she was wearing a skirt and I was trying to hold her up, there was a good chance there was some ass exposure going down on the Eurodam ship. I got quite a few stares from people who thought I was some kind of creeper, which I reassured everyone with, “it’s okay, I’m her brother!” After dropping Nat off (and literally dropping her a few times along the way), the rest of us made our way back to Northern Lights, where sure enough there was Kiel, flaunting his string belt on the dance floor like it was a heavyweight championship belt or something!

The next day was to be our last on the ship, and we were given a rude awakening in the form of some gnarly waves rocking the boat and everyone’s stomachs. In fact, that morning while I was trying to shower I ended up falling over, which was a combination of the boat rocking and my equilibrium being totally fucked! Nat, Kiel, and Jeff were hurting even more than me, and according to his own blurred report, Kiel had spent the previous evening sleeping at the ship’s Piano Bar after the club had closed. With not much going on, I ended up spending most of the day rolling around in a chaise lounge chair before the Bingo grand finals in the late afternoon. After gathering up the complete stockade of Bingo cards we had amassed over the week (almost forty), I headed down to the Bingo room and prayed that somebody would show up to help me, as my dabbing skills aren’t that sharp. Luckily, I randomly ran into my parents who agreed to help me and the lovely Floridian Jenn happened to saunter by and was forced at gunpoint to help me out. Just as the game was about to get under way, Kiel even managed to get out of bed, so we had ourselves an official Bingo party! Unfortunately, like all previous attempts at Bingo we didn’t have the magical card and had to leave empty handed. Hey, as long as we all had fun that’s all that matters, right? Wrong! Winning is everything, and to quote Ricky Bobby, “if you ain’t first your last!” I never thought until now how much this quote applies to Bingo. With the taste of defeat still firmly in our mouths, my parents and I went out for one more fancy-pants dinner. I made sure to savour the food, as it was probably the best grub I was going to be getting for a long, long time! After bidding my parents adios and discovering that no one else in our party was up for any form of socializing due to the previous nights over-indulgence, I met up with my best cruise friend in the whole world Jenn and ended up hanging out with her the whole night. I received a world of knowledge on such things as Harry Potter, Call of Duty, what pharmacists really do, and plethora of other useless knowledge that I shall try and retain in case I ever do make it on to Jeopardy. We managed to make time to say adios to a few of our cruise friends, namely Donna The Soccer Mom/Roulette Stud and Adam The Honorary Moreau/Male Nurse before calling it a night as we were all set to disembark early the next morning.

Saturday morning we all arose bright and early, as it was time to start heading back to reality and out of the world of cruising. I must say, like most things on the ship, they had a very efficient system for getting everyone off in an orderly manner. After everyone was off, the six of us made our way to the airport in Miami as my mom and dad along with Nat and Jeff were going to be flying home. Luckily for them there were open seats on stand-by, and not so luckily for me and Kiel this meant we had to take the SUV on another 30-hour drive back to the Great White North. Prior to leaving the airport we decided to take I-95 home instead of the I-75, which we had taken on the way down, as it was apparently the faster of the two routes. Well it would have been faster, except for the fact that I had to pull over about ten times to sleep because Kiel was almost always too tired to drive. This led to me doing about 85-90% of the total drive up through Florida, Georgia, South Carolina, North Carolina, West Virginia, Virginia, Pennsylvania, and New York. At one point, I even had to pull over for a few hours and nap at a rural gas station in West Virginia, where I was certain we were going to get raped “Deliverance” style. After enduring some bad weather (turns out we were just ahead of a major, major snowstorm) and scary Southerners, we ended up pulling into our lovely home in Bradford, Ontario a mere 29 hours and 2700 kilometres after leaving Miami International Airport. It was nice to be home, although it was going to be short-lived as I had exactly two days to ready myself before I departed on my next adventure, Canada’s Arctic.

With our voyage complete, in summation I must say I had an amazing time onboard Holland America’s Eurodam. The crew and the ship were awesome as were most of the people we met! Special shout-out to my parents for taking us on the cruise, and I can honestly say our first family vacation in over ten years was probably one of the, if not the best vacation I’ve been on in the last ten years (and I’ve been on a few). So people, show your parents some love! I’ll leave it at that.

Lastly, thanks to anyone who checks my blogs, I love hearing from people who read my garbage. Even if you think it sucks, admitting to me that you read it still puts a smile on my face. Having said that, stay tuned as I have now moved to Inuvik in the Northwest Territories (really fuckin’ far up north!) and there are sure to be some tales forthcoming. Ever wondered what it’s like to be a waiter at a restaurant at the very end of the earth? Didn’t think so, but I’m going to tell you anyways! Until next time, keep your class intact you classless sandbaggers,
~Brent~

Wednesday, January 5, 2011- Lonely Island Was Right, Fuck Land I’m On A boat Motherfucker!

Not shockingly, my first sleep on Holland America’s Eurodam ship was swiftly followed by my first hangover on the aforementioned ship. When I was finally able to move my lifeless body out of bed, I discovered that it was already close to lunch time and that there was a large amount of room service piled on the floor in mine and Kiel’s room. I also found a receipt for $50 that said I had pre-paid for a pub crawl the night before, but I would be lying if I said I fully remembered purchasing it. I was also puzzled to discover another three orders of room service in the hallway outside of our door, which I eventually learned were the work of Natalie and Jeff who had KO’ed the previous night before their food showed up. Since I was not feeling too hot, I could not even think to stomach any of the five left-over meals on offer and instead got my ass in gear and headed off the boat to the island we were currently docked at known as Half Moon Cay, which if I am not mistaken is a private island in the Bahamas owned by the cruise line. Upon my arrival on the island, I quickly started canvassing my way through the few thousand people on the beach in hopes of finding someone in my party. Luckily it only took about ten minutes before I was able to locate them. Apparently, everyone had already been there for a few hours, which either means I am a really weak drunk or I just drank way more than everybody the night before. After taking a dip in the crystal clear ocean waters, Kiel and I ended up hanging out on the beach like a couple of gumbas listening to house music on our IPod boom-box, while everyone else went back to the ship. Naturally, our music combined with our stellar good looks kept all forms of human life away from us, which was fine by me given my poor health. After making our way back to the boat, I took a side trip to the onboard gym to try and bring myself to life. It seemed to have a positive effect, as I was once again primed and ready to party the night away after that. After some early evening drinks and another lovely family dinner, it was time to get back into the full swing of things at the casino and nightclub. As would become routine on the trip, we started the night at the roulette table where we would usually meet up with Jenn and Donna and see the same assortment of people who were just as big of degenerate gamblers as Kiel and I. Kiel, Jeff, and I also decided to take part in a blackjack tournament that was going to be spread out over two nights. It had a $20 buy-in and was basically a tournament to see who could put up the highest score through seven hands. After two nights of qualifying rounds, the top seven players would all reconvene for a $500 winner take-all final table on Thursday night. Anyways by the end of Monday night, Kiel was in second place while Jeff and I were in sixth and seventh respectively. We would have to wait until Thursday (night two) to see what happened! After mowing down a bunch more drinks and thinking he was king shit, Kiel started telling the two Ukrainian blackjack dealers that we was going to marry them and how gorgeous they were. This event went on in front of my mother who had since shown up, which was quite comical to say the least as Kiel was just sooooooo polluted. After several marriage proposals, Kiel eventually gave up on trying to secure a mail order bride and instead went back to his muse from the night before; the 36 year old English woman, who I swear was probably closer to 45. Anyways, it didn’t take long before her and Kiel were grinding each other up on the dance floor in the nightclub, much to the delight of Jenn and I. By this point, I think Jenn and I were both almost in tears watching from a booth as Kiel tried to work his magic, pimped out in his “Ron Paul” shirt, gold necklace, and gaudy rings. The young-Caucasian-Canadian-dance-floor-pimp-train. Truly a sight that everyone must see at least once before they die. The night concluded with a whole whack of us on the dance floor, dancing to the same tunes that the DJ would play every night. And my award for most random couple on the dance floor (and believe me this wasn’t your typical nightclub crowd) had to go to this gay couple we had befriended who were both named Steve and Steve. All I could think about the whole time was how awkward it must be screaming out your own name in bed. “Ohhhhhhhhhh Steve!!!!!!!!”

Tuesday, I was awoken by Natalie who had a pretty random encounter in the form of an old public/high school and dance friend. As she was sitting on the pool deck that morning, a girl by the name of Kellie that we used to go to school with recognized her sitting there. Long story short, Kellie was now working for Holland America as a dancer and we had apparently watched her in a show without even realizing it (they wear tons of makeup and we were sitting far away). All I can say to that is it’s a small world after all. All randomness aside, our family had planned to have a hot tub party the day before so that’s exactly what we did at lunch time. After securing one of the hot tubs on the pool deck, Kiel, Nat, Jeff, and I (parents decided to not get wet) had it on lock down for a few hours. With Kiel and my mom ordering buckets of beer like they were going out of style, it didn’t take long for us to start feeling fine. We eventually made some other random friends who we allowed into our “hot tub circle of trust”, most notably a cool dude named Adam who was a male nursing student from South Carolina. By the end of the trip he had worked his way up to honorary family member, which is no small feat by any means. By the time the middle of the afternoon rolled around (and the $200 beer tab for Kiel and my mom), most of us were starting to get a little woozy and decided to pack it in for a while. Not Kiel though. He decided to stay and tub it out for a bit and somehow in his drunkenness lost one of his precious Joe-Pesci-in-Goodfellas-style rings in the bottom of the hot tub. With the help of some strangers, he was eventually able to find it and decided to reward them and himself by purchasing everyone shots. This was around the time my dad found him, barely coherent and had to drag him back to our room before he completely drained his bank account. This is in turn led to Kiel jumping on my head while I was trying to have a nap and my cursing out of the drunken bastard. We were pretty sure that that would be the end of Kiel for the night, which was unfortunate as I had already purchased him a pub crawl ticket in my drunken generosity a couple of nights earlier. This worked out well for Nat who ended up being able to take advantage of his misfortunes. With Kiel asleep for the night (or so I thought), I went and put in a quick shift at the casino before Nat, Jeff, and I made our way to the top level of the ship for the pub crawl. We ended up meeting up with my new best friend Jenn as well as some of the other random people we had so far befriended. The pub crawl itself ended up being more of a sprint, as it was only one hour in length and featured stops at five different bars, each serving up one fairly strong drink (long island ice teas, martinis, screwdrivers, etc). As you can imagine, by the time a couple hundred of us arrived at the final stop (Northern Lights nightclub) everyone was feeling quite good and in the mood to celebrate our victory. Unfortunately for my wallet, they also offered half-price drinks at the final stop for the first 45 minutes or so, that led to me at one point carrying a tray of ten or so vodka-Red Bulls. What can I say, I’m a bargain hunter! While we were all chatting away in the club, who emerges out of the shadow; none other than Kiel Fuckin’ Moreau! He had freshly risen from his drink-induced afternoon sleep and was ready to go again. With that in mind, he delved right into his thermos and my tray of drinks and promptly made his return to the dance floor. By this, the third night, Kiel had become somewhat of a legend in the nightclub, and the DJ knew him by name and what songs he was going to request (Deadmau5, Pauly D, Daft Punk). All in all, another terrific night onboard the Eurodam, with a great cast of associates and characters.

The next morning our boat docked for the day at Ocho Rios, Jamaica and unfortunately for my aching head, Nat, Jeff, Kiel, and I had all planned to go and visit Jamaica’s number one tourist attraction, Dunn’s River Falls. The falls are basically this long ass set of small waterfalls, cascades and rapids that you slowly walk up through with the help of a guide. Immediately after getting off the boat in Jamaica, the first thing you notice is that everyone is trying to sell you something or lay some kind of hustle on you. While it is somewhat comical, it is annoying more than anything else. It was the main thing I hated about the Dominican Republic when I went there a few years ago and it quickly soured me on Jamaica. Eventually we made our way over to Dunn’s River and completed our walk up the waterfalls with a billion other tourists in about an hour or so. It was most definitely a unique thing to do once, but the novelty of it quickly wore off on me (or maybe it was just my pulsating head). Following our successful waterfall climb and subsequent dealings with the Jamaican hustlers we made our way back onboard the ship and I headed straight to the gym to try and make myself feel better. Not too sure if I was successful, but it gave me enough strength to get to the family dinner and swear off heavy drinking for one night. That night, Nat, Jeff, and I decided to take it easy on the booze, but Kiel decided he needed to keep the party going. After making the requisite stop at the casino and playing a bit of roulette, blackjack, and poker, the three of us along with our honorary guest Jenn decided to check out the stand-up comedy act in the main theatre that night. It was some dude by the name of Al Lubel, who has appeared on both Leno and Letterman, although I’m still not really sure how. He had to be one of the least funny comedians I have ever seen and I’m pretty sure by the way he kept repeating his name he was more coked out than Paula Abdul on Season 5 of American Idol. In fact, Jeff ended up getting so mad that him and Natalie jut walked out about three quarters of the way through the show. Since Jenn was the only person amongst the few hundred in attendance who found it funny, I was forced to stay until the end and witness Al Lubel, the middle-aged man with a Jew-fro take off his shirt and play the piano for his grand finale. Shocking. Having gotten no laughs out of my system for the night, Jenn and I headed over to the nightclub where we were sure we would find Kiel. And wouldn’t you know it; there was Kiel on the quietest night of the week, the only guy out on the dance floor. Occasionally some poor unsuspecting man or woman would happen onto the dance floor and Kiel would quickly grab their ass or grind with them. Yes, he was even ass-grabbing the male DJ at times. This led to far better comedy for Jenn and me than any “professional” comedian could provide, although like Al Lubel, Kiel Moreau could not fight the urge to have a one man no shirt party. Just classless I tell ya!

Sunday, January 2, 2011- And The Award For Biggest Liquor Store Purchase Of 2011 Goes To…

With Montreal and Australia in my rear view mirror, the next stop on the Brent Moreau-likes-to-spend-all-his-money-on-travelling-express was to some far off and exotic lands in the Caribbean Sea. Yes, it was time for me to pop my cruise cherry! There comes a time in everyone’s life when they must take that fateful plunge and join the world of cruisers. People have long been trying to sell me on the benefits of taking your vacation on a giant boat but for some reason unbeknownst to me, I have never hit the high seas in style. That was until this past month, when my parents decided to take myself, and my two siblings Natalie and Kiel, along with Nat’s boyfriend Jeff on a cruise. In addition to it being my first cruise (everyone else going had already been on at least one), it was also the first time the whole Moreau clan had taken a vacation together in over ten years if memory serves me correct. Having said that, five Moreaus and one honorary Moreau all in one place can only mean one thing: chaos!

New Year’s Eve, my parents, brother, and I set out from our residence in Bradford with the dubious goal of driving to Florida with little or no stopping. Normally, our family would fly stand-by as my mom and sister both work for Canada’s two major airlines. Since it was the holidays, we had to drive down to the Sunshine State Griswold style. Natalie and Jeff had purchased full price plane tickets for the following day and would meet us at our hotel the next evening, as Jeff had the urgent matter of going to a Canada World Junior hockey game in Buffalo. After packing the four of us into a Dodge Journey and about twice as much luggage as we probably needed, we set out around lunch time and were lucky to get good weather for the entire first day. We ended up taking the I-75, which required us to cross the border at Windsor-Detroit and then drive on through the great states of Michigan, Ohio, Kentucky, Tennessee, Georgia and then finally into Florida. We all took turns driving, and I can officially say I had my tamest New Year’s celebration ever (but memorable), driving through Tennessee probably listening to some hillbilly radio station! We ended running into some crazy rainstorms during the middle of the night, which prompted my mother to stay awake all night and attempt to give my brother and I driving instructions as if she was being paid a dollar for every pointer she gave us. Not surprisingly, cause let’s face it men are awesome drivers, the Moreau brothers powered through the storms and next thing we knew it was the early hours of the morning and we were just outside of Atlanta looking to fuel up. Well that was the plan at least; until I saw a few shady looking dudes start to make their way towards our vehicle as soon as I pulled into the gas station. Being the fearful white man that I am, I ended up hightailing it out of there and pulling off at the next exit, which fortunately just featured a couple of drunk sluts who looked like they were out of a Ludacris music video and gangsters in the gas station who clearly had a bit too much to drink on that night, which is how it should be on New Year’s Eve.

To ring in the first morning of 2011, we stopped at an IHOP for breakfast like the true American patriots we are. After filling our faces with some good ole American grub, we set about covering the last six or so hours from the north of Florida down to Fort Lauderdale where our ship would be departing the following day. On the drive down, I felt like a little kid as I stared out the window spotting all the gators resting on the banks of rivers just off the highway. I figure that I probably spotted at least fifty, and every time I would excitedly try and point them out to my father, he would look out the window and inform me that he could not see them. This went on for a good hour, and after a while I just gave up and concluded that without his Dollarama glasses he truly was in full on Ray Charles mode. Having gotten my gator fix, the four of us finally arrived in Fort Lauderdale in the late afternoon and quickly realized we had no idea how to get to our hotel. After driving around for a bit, my dad pulled over and asked at a gas station where the Westin was. After getting directions that led us right along Fort Lauderdale’s main drag during the height of tourist season and an excruciatingly slow drive, we pulled into a Westin hotel; only problem was we were booked into the Westin hotel on the other side of the city! After almost two extra hours on top of our already grueling 27 hour commute, we finally made it to our hotel for the night and got settled in. My Dad and Kiel quickly went on a booze and food run, and the four of us settled in with some drinks and a “Dog The Bounty Hunter Marathon” on A&E. Natalie and Jeff eventually arrived from the airport around midnight or so, and the six of us all snuggled into the one hotel room for the night in anticipation of our big cruise the next afternoon. Sidenote: In all honesty, I don’t remember much after Natalie and Jeff arrived because I decided to take a prescription strength sleeping pill (had been having a lot of trouble sleeping) and I apparently went for a walk to the lobby to look for a vending machine and fell out of my bed amongst other things. In conclusion, it must’ve been one hell of a sleeping pill, or the Americans are catching up to us Canadians and making their beer stronger. Chances are it was a little of Column A and a little of Column B.

Sunday morning I awoke from my drug induced slumber and was ready to conquer all that Holland America Cruise Lines could throw at me! Our first order of business though was to again hit up one of America’s fine breakfast institutions. This time though it was Denny’s that would be getting our attention. More importantly than Denny’s though, we had to go to the liquor store and load up on alcohol to take on to the boat. Now for those not in the know, the general rule on cruise ships is that all of your food is included in your price, but you generally have to pay for all of your alcohol and soft drinks. Now this was naturally a major concern for us, so we contacted Holland America to see what their policy was on brining your own alcohol onto the ship. We discovered that we were allowed to carry on as much wine and champagne as we wanted, but that you could not bring on liquor or beer. So, being the wise guys that we are, we decided we were going to risk it and just try hiding tons of beer and liquor in our luggage. When it was all said and done, I believe we had nine or ten three-litre boxes of wine to carry on, about 60 cans of beer in hiding, ten fireball shooters, and last but certainly not least, five or six sixty ounce bottles of rum, whiskey, and vodka. Oh, and did I mention we only we were going to be on the ship for six nights?! Sick, I know. The only other majorly important purchase we made was our large thermoses, which we would use to house or illicit alcohol on the ship and carry around with us everywhere we went. Let me tell you, if those girls in high school who have to look after pretend babies took care of those things the way we held onto these thermoses, well let’s just say there would be a hell of a lot of better mothers out there. Back at the hotel, we distributed all of the booze throughout our luggage and then made our way over to the cruise terminal, which was an adventure in itself. Six people in a crossover-SUV with about five hundred pounds of luggage is a sight for sore eyes. I’m pretty sure we just buried Natalie in the trunk under some suitcases an hoped she wouldn’t die during the fifteen minute drive over. Thankfully, she was still alive when we got there and we all managed to get on the ship hassle free. Having never been on a cruise ship before, my first impression after walking on was, holy shit this is ballin’! I had a feeling it would be nice (it was a five-star ship), but hot damn I was pretty sure I was in love. Kiel and I checked into our room, which was larger than we thought it would be. Natalie and Jeff’s room was right next door to us, and my parents had a room one floor up, as they were staying in a balcony room while the rest of us just had a window room with an awesome view of the lifeboats! After exploring the ship for a bit and making some rounds, we were all convinced we would be in for a fun time. We got some good news a short time after when all of our luggage arrived at our rooms with ALL of our booze still inside. Success! One of the most amazing perks had to be the fact that the ship also had free, unlimited 24-hour room service. Naturally, we ended up abusing this quite a bit over the week and were threatened to be cut off as we kept ordering food when we were drunk and passing out before it arrived. After checking out the ship’s amenities (pretty standard cruise ship stuff), Nat, Jeff, Kiel, and I met up with my parents at the Rembrandt dining room for dinner. Kiel was already pretty drunk by this point, but hey that’s the thing to do when you’re 21. As mentioned, I had never been on a cruise before so the food came as quite the surprise to me. We were able to eat amazing dishes featuring things like salmon, duck, lobster, and tons of other shit you just don’t see at anything but the nicest of restaurants and at the highest of prices. It was really nice to all sit down for a fantastic dinner, but I knew Kiel had two things on his mind, to get drunk and hit up the casino. After bidding the parental unit good night, the four of us headed back to our rooms to start getting our drink on. Nat, Jeff, and I went and checked out some song and dance show on the main stage while Kiel bee-lined it straight for the casino tables. Shortly after the show, the three of us made our way down to the casino, where Kiel was already locked in at the roulette table, and the two of us would become a mainstay fixture over the next week. With our thermoses firmly in hand, we nestled in at the roulette table with a small amount of cash and quickly started socializing thanks to the help of our friends at the liquor companies. Fortunately, I started shadowing “Donna the Soccer Mom’s” bets and was up a bit of cash. By this point, Kiel was already well on his way to trying to wheel some English bird who was probably twice his age and was there playing with her mother who looked to be about ninety-five on a good day. Guess you can’t fault the kid in the effort category. Also by this point, another younger lady in the form of a hot Floridian by the name of Jennifer had somehow started giving me betting tips. Okay, maybe she felt slightly forced to after my brother introduced himself by grabbing her ass numerous times. All in all, I’m pretty sure we all ended on the plus side for the night (ass grabs not included in the final tally), which was a great start to the trip. After packing it in at the tables, Kiel, Donna, Jenn, and I headed over to the nightclub, Northern Lights, and proceeded to close it down although by that time it was already pretty late. Suffice to say, I would be feeling it the next morning when we pulled into port in the Bahamas, but sometimes you just gotta keep on rolling!

Sunday, December 12, 2010- What is Montreal Most Famous For; Georges St. Pierre, Bagels, Or Club Super Sexe?

Not long after returning home from Australia, it was time once again to get back on the travelling trail, as I cannot seem to sit around for too long before I start to go stir crazy. To combat this problem, I had purchased tickets to a UFC event for my friends Mike and Jenny as a wedding present while I was away and unable to make an ass of myself at their festivities. Looking back, it seems that it was probably a win-win situation, their wedding was drama free and we all got to go to Montreal for a weekend to watch a bunch of grown-ass sweaty man roll around on top of each other in a huge cage. I had actually purchased six tickets for the event, so poor Jenny had the pleasure of putting up with not only her new husband and me, but my friends Ryan, Dan, and Adam.

Friday afternoon, we all set off on the six hour drive down the 401 from Toronto to Montreal after work. Mike ended up driving his wife, Ryan and I, while Adam and Dan drove separately in another car. One thing that is almost always a guarantee when you drive to Montreal in the winter is that you are going to get shitted on by Mother Nature and this drive was no exception. I’m pretty sure shortly after leaving Mike was wishing he had not volunteered to drive as he had to deal with both rain and snow, not to mention the sights of dozens of cars in the ditch along the way just to rattle your nerves that little extra. We did manage to make it to Montreal in one piece though, just a little behind schedule and with a solid dose of Ryan’s stories of wading through the online world of dating! By the time we got checked in and met up with Adam and Dan it was after 11:00pm. Random moment of the weekend had to belong to Mike, when he discovered on an ice run from the room that his cousin was staying in a room directly across the hall from theirs and Mike had no idea he was even in town for the weekend. Speaking of ice runs, we had little time to waste due to our late arrival, so we promptly started up the hotel-room-drinking-party and followed it up with a trip to Burger King shortly after 2:00am. Wanting to keep the celebration of good drinks and awesome food going, we tried to get into a few bars, but everyone had locked their doors or was closed. This left us with only one option in the wee hours of the morning: casino. Jenny, Mike and Ryan decided to pass and retired to their room, while Adam, Dan, and I jumped in a cab and made our way over to the poker room at Casino Montreal. The three of us ended up hanging around for a few hours as we slowly went from drunk to sobering up with a hangover which is not the greatest feeling in the world while you’re still awake. Adam ended up being the big winner with a profit of a few hundred dollars, while I won like $90 and Dan lost a bit. It was kind of ironic actually, since Dan is a really good poker player, whereas as Mr. Adam and I are hardly legends on the felt. After Adam cashed in his new pension plan, the three of us headed to back to the hotel around 5:30am, dreaming of what awaited us the next day at the Bell Centre, UFC 124: GSP vs. Koscheck.

Adam, Dan, and I did not get out of bed until sometime around lunch the next day, although I do recall Ryan banging on our door at some ungodly hour like 10:00am and trying to get us to go out with them. When we did finally get up, the three of us went out for breakfast at one of the famous all-day breakfast places on Ste. Catherine Street. Let me just say that those Frenchies know how to do an all-day breakfast up in style! After our feeding frenzy we met up with Ryan and Mike who had been out on the town all morning with Jenny and had already had some beers. Ryan had also spent a couple hundred dollars on authentic GSP clothing and was currently wearing his GSP headband around the city like he was the second coming of the Karate Kid. While we were trying to find a watering hole that would accept grown men in headbands, we were accosted by two ladies on the street that jumped out in front of us and asked us if we knew how to drive. Not sure how to respond, I think all five of us just kind of stood there silent before they explained that they had jut smashed up their car trying to parallel park and would really appreciate it if one of us could do it for them. Well before you could say fender-bender, there was Adam in some stranger’s car on the busiest street in Montreal trying to parallel park the metal beast. Eventually he got the car parked, but not before all of us stood there laughing hysterically. I thought they might reward him with a BJ or at least an HJ, but in the end all he got was an old-fashioned thank you. Shortly thereafter, as we were making our way down the street, we walked past Canadian UFC fighter Sam Stout. None of us even noticed, except Ryan, who in a delayed reaction yelled out, “Hey Sam!” after he was already a hundred feet past us. This in turn led to Sam turning around with a confused look on his face and us all laughing because Ryan was so proud he had spotted him out! With a couple of awkward moments behind us, the five of us finally made our way to the restaurant/micro-brewery, Three Brewers. We all ordered jumbo one-litre glasses of ale and proceeded to indulge. Apparently Mike and Ryan had already been to another location of the same restaurant that morning and had been drinking these jumbo beers, so I’m pretty sure by the time they got done they were feeling pretty good! We also discovered that sitting beside us in the restaurant was a group of people including Josh Koscheck’s (the American challenger in the main event that evening) wrestling coach from high school and some of his other teachers and people from his hometown. Ryan ended up talking their ears off as only he can, and we wished them luck in the main event that evening, although we all knew GSP was going to kick his ass, no luck needed! After dusting off our beers, we headed back to the hotel to wake Jenny up from her nap and start and our pre-drink. We headed down to the Bell Centre around 6:00pm and the six of us were all in our seats for the start of the preliminary card. Without doing a full recap of all the fights, I will say it was an excellent night for the Canadian fighters on the card and it was a pretty solid night of bouts. By the time the main event rolled around, we were all feeling pretty good after spending a few hundred dollars between us on $12 glasses of Molson Export. Some might even say Mike was feeling a little too good, as we had to wake him up for the last fight of the night and I’m pretty sure he has no recollection of it! Oh well, as long as he had fun (or thinks he did to the best of his memory), that’s all that matters! The main event of GSP vs. Koscheck provided the desired result for 99.9% of the people in the building, with Koscheck getting his ass beaten down for five straight rounds, much to the delight of all of us goofs wearing GSP headbands. Following the action-packed night of fights, Mike, Ryan, and Jenny had seen enough (especially Mike) and decided to head back to the hotel. The other two and I took this as our cue to continue drinking and our first stop was some Irish pub we stumbled upon. While we were drinking, one of the waitresses came over and asked us where we were from. We weren’t sure why she wanted to know and she would not tell us why she needed this information. After enough pestering, we told her we were from Bradford and she quickly disappeared. A couple of minutes later, another waitress surfaced, but this time it was a girl who had gone to high school with us and dated one of our old friends back in the day. She informs us that she had sent the other girl over to see if we were who she thought we were. In fact, we were just who she thought we were, some drunk idiots from her hometown! By this point, Adam was getting quite restless though and wanted to go to everyone’s favourite Montreal institution, Club Super Sexe aka one of Canada’s premier adult entertainment clubs. Since it was a fight weekend, the place was jammed with patrons and smoking hot strippers, and we quickly settled in at the first table we could find and ordered and $60 bucket of beer, which we were told came with a coupon for a free lap dance. What the waitress failed to mention was that the strippers were all bitches and none of them were having anything to do with “free lap dance” coupons. This in turn made Adam quite the angry fellow as he attempted to find a lady respectful enough to take his coupon and make him a happy man. He never did find that lady of his dreams, but what he did manage to do was snore at a ridiculously high volume level that night and attempt to keep me awake despite my alcohol induced stupor.

Sunday morning, Dan and I awoke to the sounds of Adam in the bathroom making the most violent puking noises I have EVER heard. After we were up and about and getting ready to head home Adam was just laying motionless on the bed. Before I went to meet up with the other three and catch a ride home, Adam did manage to have his second puking rally of the day, which not surprisingly was no less dramatic. After leaving Adam in the capable hands of Dan and wishing him good luck, I headed on my way back to Ontario with the seemingly more sober Mike, Jenny, and Ryan. Just to make our drive home fun, Mother Nature again decided a snow storm was in order. This was no deterrent to Jenny though who commanded her husband to take her to the bagel shop to pick up some “real” Montreal style bagels. To my knowledge, this was the first time I had ever had one of these contraptions and I must say they were pleasantly delicious (thanks Jenny!). The drive home was again slow, like the drive there, but not as slow as Dan’s as he had to apparently pull off the highway on at least one occasion to let Adam the puke machine go to work. In conclusion, Molson Export does not sit well in the stomach on long car rides and the French should be ashamed of it being their beer of choice.

All in all a great weekend, and after now attending three UFC events, I must say they are the greatest sporting events on the planet to attend (no bias, okay maybe a little).

Until next time, stay classy citizens and keep on keeping on.

~Brent~