An Irishman abroad

Canadian Road Trip - Part 2

CANADIAN ROAD TRIP, NOVEMBER 2002
PART TWO

As I walked into the bar, it took some time before my eyes adjusted to the darkness. First thing that I noticed was that it was yet again quite a big open space. The next thing I noticed was a cash machine. Yes folks - a cash machine INSIDE the bloody pub! How dangerous would that be?!! So after withdrawing a few Canadian dollars, just because I could, I made my way to the bar, which was just to the front and to the left of me. Sat at the bar, were three patrons. They regarded me with little interest. I nodded a hello and then sat at a free stool just two up from one of the guys.

I said hello to the barmaid, who seemed friendly enough and ordered a Labatts Blue Lite (I was getting a taste for this stuff). I took off my gloves, my hat, my jacket, and my jumper and brought out my second book - Murphy's Law - another one by Colin Bateman. Before I opened it - I surveyed my surroundings. The bar was U-shaped and occupied about a third of the room. A stage was located at the back of the room. 2 large screens showing nothing in particular were located at opposite corners of the room. It was sparsely decorated and to be honest was not much to look at.
Instead, I looked at my 3 new drinking buddies.
Immediately to my left, two stools from where I sat, was a guy who looked like he had never seen daylight, nor eaten a square meal in the last decade. I had seen healthier looking people in the old black and white footage of Auschwitz. He wore a typical American baseball cap. The kind that looks like they've been designed with oblong-headed alien life forms in mind. You know the type - large peak - even bigger front. Emblazoned on the cap was a maple leaf. On his sweatshirt in loud, proud letters was the message "100 % Canadian". Mr. Canada could have been anything between 50 and 65 - it was really difficult to tell. He studied his beer with such intensity I wondered if he could perhaps see the future in it.
My eyes moved along the bar (not physically of course - that would've been just antisocial) to the guy next to him about 6 stools around the U of the bar. He was in his late 60's and was grinning at me like a Cheshire cat, which, although friendly enough, also offered me a chance to see his impressive lack of dental work in recent years. He raised his glass in a toast at me and gave me a wink. I smiled back and quickly diverted my attention to the guy sat beside him.
This guy was in his late forties and quite well dressed but had a face on him like he had just swallowed a wasp or at the very least had recently taken part in some lemon sucking. He had a pile of pieces of cardboard on the bar in front of him. Some form of scratch card where you could win money. I watched him as he opened them one by one and then just as quickly discarded them on the bar. One by one he went through them, his facial expression never changing. Once he got through them he then ordered some more from the barmaid and repeated the process.

Already quite depressed, I opened the book. Within thirty seconds the barmaid asked me if I wanted to read the local paper. I thought that there was perhaps some law against reading books in bars in Canada, but I thought it would be interesting to see what was going on in the world, or at least this part of it anyway, so I thanked her and started reading it.

2 minutes later, Cheshire cat called on the bar maid in a thick accent, "Brenda - put on the hockey. Get the game on - we wanna see the hockey!". She sighed and grabbed the remote of the TV and started surfing through the channels.
After a couple of minutes of this she sighed again and said "I dunno what channel it's on Danny - here you have a go at it".
"Sure I dunno how those Goddamn things work, Brenda". He turned to The Gambler for assistance but he didn't want to or wasn't interested. Danny then staggered around the bar to Mr. Canada. "Here Doug - do you know how these things work?"
Doug mumbled something incoherent and shook his head.
So that left little old me as his last chance. "Hey there young feller - can you get the game on?"
Well - cometh the man, cometh the hour.
"Sorry - I just arrived in Cornwall and hour ago - I wouldn't know" (what this had to do with my ability to operate a television remote control I still have no idea, but it seemed relevant at the time). I could sense the rest of the bar regarding me intently. Danny blinked once then asked "Where you from, young feller?"
"From Ireland" I replied.
At this point Mr. Canada piped up - "I'm half Irish!".
"So why the hell are you fucking wearing a 100% Canadian sweatshirt, if you're so bloody Irish then???!"
I thought to myself.
What I actually said was "Oh really?".
Brenda then said, in a strong Canadian accent, "I'm Irish too - I'm a Murphy".
Humouring her, I replied "Yeah, I thought that because Brenda's an Irish name"
"Is it?!" At this point I gave up and went back to the paper.

"So whereaboots" (Canadian pronunciation here) "in Ireland are you from".
"I'm from just outside Belfast" ,I replied and prepared myself for the standard response to this question, which follows me wherever I go. It's never the same, word for word - but you can put your house on the general content of the response - although I wasn't quite prepared of the bluntness of Mr. half Irish 100% Canadian's question.
"So that would make you either green or orange?"
"Yes - that's right - that would make me either green or orange" thinking that would be enough for him, but he was not to be stopped.
"So what's it like over there now? - you guy's still killing each other?"
Nothing like tarring us all with the same stereotypical brush, is there?
Normally when this sort of thing happens I have a little fun with the person. I guess people are genuinely interested, but you do get bored when people ask the same question, no matter where you go. So in the past when I have been asked the "What's it really like?" question my response normally follows along the lines of.....
"What's it really like?! What's it really like???!! Wait till I tell ya what it's really like.... My alarm goes off in the morning, I grab my army helmet from the bedside cabinet, make a dash for the toilets, get showered and dressed as quickly as possible, not forgetting to put on the bullet-proof vest. After I've dragged the sand bags away from the front door, ,I make a dash for the car, checking under it for planted explosives, before driving through army checkpoints, dodging burnt out cars, negotiating my way through rioting youths petrol bombing the police, and if I'm lucky enough - I only get shot at twice."
It's cruel - it's stupid and I know I shouldn't do it but come on! if we have gained nothing from almost 35 years of bloodshed other than the opportunity to use it to our advantage to make fun of people then please don't begrudge us that, Dear Reader!
But for some reason - perhaps I was tired from the journey, or wanted to make sure that my stay in Cornwall was an argument free one, I bit my tongue.
"Despite what you may see on the TV - Belfast is actually pretty normal. Believe it or not, not everyone is killing each other”. I replied. The barmaid made a hasty retreat to the jukebox and I went back to the paper. Mr. Canada went back to his beer.

Danny said, "Shucks Brenda! Not that goddamn song again, eh?!" (Note the Canadian habit of ending all sentences like they were a question with their cunning use of the word 'eh?')
"Ach - come on Danny - you know more of the words than I do, eh"

And at this point the whole situation took a rather surreal twist. Steeling myself for some Garth Brooks or Dixie Chicks - it was that kind of bar, I was utterly amazed to hear "The Bloodhound Gang - The Roof is on Fire".
Fair play to Toothless Danny - when it came to the lines "We don’t need no water - let the motherfucker burn, ,burn motherfucker, burn", he sang with all the gusto of a man many years his junior.

A few minutes later Doug put on his jacket and said he would have 'the one for the road'. I ordered a second beer and after that it was time to go greet my aunt Daphne. I said my goodbyes and left.
On my way out I noticed a poster advertising karaoke for that evening. Upon reflection I kind of wish I hadn't.

to be continued....