Winnipeg Chronicles #4: Voyager

Excuse Me Miss – Jay-Z

Look, I’m usually the last person to complain about needing to interact with people (er, barring that last post), but seeing as how my only company over the last month has been Derek and the reprobates at my gym I think this recent bout of loneliness is more than understandable.

Derek took me out on Saturday night to meet some of his friends from work. They included two Dans (in both white and Asian flavours), white Dan’s girlfriend Alex and this girl named Ivy who Derek was trying to hook me up with. At least I think that’s what was going on.

The night got off to a poor start when Derek decided to park about thirty kilometers from our destination. We were headed to something called Festival du Voyageur and Derek was informed that the surrounding streets would likely be packed. As we pulled into the distant lot, Derek proudly declared, Hey, free parking! I would have dropped a C-note if I’d known how long we were going to walk.

On the bright side, I did get to walk along the Provencher Bridge. I’m no bridge connoisseur, but I appreciated the experience. That was the only nice thing I have to say about journey.

As we walked along the streets with no clue where we were, Derek kept saying Damn, we could have parked there about every five minutes. Good to know. There were signs for the festival everywhere, but none that actually pointed in any specific direction. We finally cracked and asked someone for directions, but even they could only give us a vague clue. As we wandered off the main street into the residential areas, we could hear music in the distance. The weird thing is that every time we thought we were getting closer to it, it seemed to either get farther away or move to another area completely. Like two delirious Bedouins, we stumbled from mirage to mirage in search of an oasis that grew increasingly intangible.

Be honest with me, cousin. Am I going to die tonight?

Somehow, someway, surely through the grace of Allah (He, Exalted and Ever High As He Is) we found the festival and rendezvoused with Derek’s crew. The first thing we did was head over to the living museum section where people have to portray what life was like back in ye olden times. Obviously, the potential for shenanigans is high anytime you’re dealing with these poor interpreters, but seeing as how we’re a group of twenty year olds and not a group of teenagers on a high school field trip we were on our best behaviour. Though all the guys shared a chuckle when the fur trader talked about how men loved to “have beaver on their heads”. Hee hee hee.

After exhausting our tolerance for historical minutiae, we headed over to the winter activities section, which was clearly intended for kids. There was a maze and a big ice slide and a large snow hill on which I slipped and nearly cracked my damn head open. Later, I had my first taste of a drink they call “caribou”. As we posed for photos that will undoubtedly end up on someone’s Facebook page, I thought to myself, So this is what white folks do for fun.

Later, we went to the Rumors comedy club and were treated to the stylings of Daryl Lenox. I couldn’t find a great clip of him online, but I guarantee you that this guy was killing. I don’t recall ever watching live stand-up and I have to say it is so refreshing to see a comedian go up there with no censorship and no time limit. The act feels so much more comfortable and fresh. Daryl reminded me of Dave Chappelle mixed with Samuel L. Jackson and with a lazy eye.

We were all spent after Daryl’s act, but somehow we ended up at a cafe at the end of the night. I hate when that happens. Yeah, it was only midnight and it was a long weekend, but when the night is done, the night is done. Of course, if it were up to me I would never get off the futon, so there’s that to consider. As for Ivy, there isn’t much to say. I don’t think she was feeling me and I’d be lying if I said the feeling wasn’t mutual. Nice girl, though.


I’m clearing out some old links, so here’s a clip from last year of some guy jump kicking another guy at a soccer game. There ya go.

You know what your problem is Jack? You intellectualize everything with your big head!
Well you have big boobs!
Which you will never touch again!
This conversation has taken an unfortunate turn.



Destined to fight the world's evil, The WAMBAG endures massive battles involving impossible stunts, races on horse-pulled carriages, and the desecration of enchanting medieval castles (all done with dizzying computer graphics). Not only does the eye candy keep on coming, the tongue-in-cheek writing and deep Transylvanian accents perfect the film with a dose of dark humor.



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