It's been more than three years since my last visit, and it's Etienne's first time North of 60. What a day!
I'm a terrible morning traveler, and I absolutely hate early morning flights. I get so anxious the night before, that I have trouble sleeping, and often I only manage maybe a couple of hours. Like last night. I think I managed three or four hours, but then I woke up in the middle of the night because, of all things, I started thinking about something at work. Fuck me! Seriously?!
So my day was already not starting off on the best note. Our first flight to Montreal was at 6:30 a.m., so I got up and showered at 4:30, knowing it was a futile effort. When I don't get enough sleep, my body goes into hyperactive mode, and as a result, I feel sweaty, grimy and slimy all day. This shower was a token effort.
We tried to get to the airport for 5:30, but various slowdowns such as a quick repack and the cab not arriving as quickly as I'd hoped conspired against us. We arrived at 5:40, and couldn't check in at the kiosks. The ticket counter attendant told us it was because we were late. It looked really bad for a moment, but she asked where we were going, and when I told her Yellowknife, she picked up the phone and called the gate to see if we could still check in. She told us she wasn't supposed to even do that, but we got the okay, and we made our way to security. The problem with early morning flights is that they all go out at the same time, so that means hundreds of people needing to clear security. We just barely made it before they were announcing last call for our gate...all the way at the very far end of the airport. Ottawa's a small airport, but it seems to go on forever when you are late. Yeah, this definitely increased the sweat/grime/slime/stink factor, in case you were wondering. I was offensive even to myself.
We raced to the gate, and in less than an hour, we were in Montreal. I was worried that our bag might not have made it on time because of our late arrival, but I couldn't do anything about it (except fret). Our time in Montreal was uneventful, and we boarded the flight to Calgary. Now, the other thing about me as a traveler is that I can't sleep. Whether it's driving or flying, I just can't sleep. I might doze off for a few minutes, or if I'm really lucky (as I was on the flight from Montreal to London in October), I might manage a fitful hour or two, but generally, I just can't sleep. I knew I needed sleep today, but I also knew my limitations. I put on a couple of short movies (Funny Face, The Big Wedding), and tried my best, but the guy in the window seat took my arm rest (and his...jerk), so I spent the flight uncomfortably shifting positions.
Finally we landed in Calgary, and I went for my last Starbucks until Monday. Yeah, Yellowknife's the 'big city' up there, but it's not "Has a Starbucks" big. As we waited for the Yellowknife flight, I waited in the gate lounge to see if I recognized anyone, or if they recognized me. While I saw a couple of faces that were familiar, it was largely an anonymous event...that's what happens when you've been away from a growing city for 15 years, I guess.
At this point, I made the point of
As we flew north, the landscape started to look more and more familiar, and by the time the Lake came into view, I started to get anxious. I love my sister and her family, but Yellowknife is a part of my life that I've put to rest for the most part, and it's a real mix of emotions whenever I go back. Once we crossed the lake, I noticed an uncontrolled forest fire on the north shore, and I knew I was back. The winds were taking the smoke south, but I knew it could shift any time, and that familiar stench of burning landscape in August would come rushing back.
Etienne's impression of what he saw from the plane was that it was pretty. I've often been asked if it's pretty up north, and my response usually goes something to the effect that a lot of tourists say it is, but growing up there, my impression is quite different. It's a real frontier town, which is something that can be viewed as romantic or tragic.
So, we landed at precisely 3:20 (as scheduled--this is important), and walked into the terminal building.
Is the suspense killing you? Will she be there?
She was not.
Heh. Some things never change. My sister not being the best at keeping track of details is one of those things (I tease, Baby K, and there's nothing but love behind it, but we know it's true).
We waited for the pokey little conveyor belt to end my suspense of whether the suitcase would be there or not, and for a time, I despaired, but then that ugly green case popped out onto the belt.
Still no sister.
Etienne looked at me and asked if we should call a cab. Yeah, let's call the Sister Taxi Service :D
I called at 3:48, and the first thing she said was, "You're early! You're flight landed already?"
"No, we're right on time. And we've got our bag,"
"When did you land? Just now?"
"Our flight landed at 3:20 as scheduled"
"WHAT?! But you told me that you land at 3:45."
"No, I said in the facebook message that it's at 3:20."
After a bit of playful guffawing on both sides, she told me she'd be there in 7 minutes. Yes, in Yellowknife, we can say that. It's 5 from her house, if there's no rush hour traffic. The funny thing is that even if our flight had landed at 3:45...she'd still have been late!
She and my brother-in-law (S.) came by and collected us quickly, and we went back to their place where we were offered a lot of food, a shower, and a nice bed for a nap. I took a quick shower because by this time, I was unfit for human company, and Etienne napped a little before joining us upstairs to prepare for supper.
Now, if you know my sister or are friends with her on facebook, than you know that her culinary skills are the stuff of
It is important to note here that there is a dispute in their house about a pair of oven mitts. Green and Silver, S. was convinced that my sister was making a grave error by putting them on green side down, and he lightly admonished her for it. She responded by having no problems pulling our pizzas out of the over without incident. As we ate, their pizzas were in the oven. While we waited, we rehashed the late pick-up and confirmed that I had indeed given her the correct time--she had written it down on the all-knowing calendar wrong. At this point, as the mocking continued, S. put on the oven mitts--silver side down--and went to pull the pizzas out of the oven. I have no idea what happened next because of the angle we were sitting at, but it seems that as he pulled the cookie sheet out of the oven, he got burned through a whole in one of the gloves, and the cookie sheet took a spill. Baby K.'s pizza was unscathed, but the toppings and cheese from S.'s pizza slid off, right into the oven element.
The decision was made to leave the cheese where it was and turn on the oven's self-cleaner. Poor S. grumbled his way through his pizza and took our mocking in stride because for once, it was him doing a Bad in the kitchen, and there were witnesses. Suddenly, S. jumped up and cried "Fire!" The oven element was on fire where the cheese was.
Here, things went even more sideways, as Baby K. maintained that there was supposed to be a fire--it was burning off the stuff on the element--while S. argued there wasn't supposed to be a fire. And this hilarious scene was repeated as the self-clean cycle was turned on again (after the fire was put out)! Baby K. was one for two: she missed our pick-up, but for once, she wasn't responsible for a kitchen fire while cooking :)
After the excitement settled down, Baby K., Etienne and I went downstairs to watch TV, where we stumbled on the local public access channel's showing of 'Knife Knews.' I can't explain this show to anyone who lives outside of Yellowknife, it's probably best to just to google the program and watch the YouTube clips.
Psycho-pussy...
...Wish you were here.
