Friday, July 3
I topped off the fluids in my 1976 Morris Mini and buzzed over to Evening Song Farm to pick up my weekly CSA share of veggies, walk my dog Seera, and take some photographs. It was a beautiful morning and i had the day off of work in observance of the July 4th holiday.
Back at home, i cleaned and stored the turnips, peas, radishes, and lettuce, threw my bag of clothes into the Mini, kissed the dog, and set off northward. Just south of Middlebury, Vermont, i veered off of US 7 onto VT Route 116 and continued north on a less-traveled path. I stopped for gas in a small town and as i was filling up, a gentleman in a cream-colored Austin Healey Sprite pulled up next to me and said “nice ride!” I replied with “nice ride!” and he looped around the gas station before pulling in to the hardware store parking lot across the street. My GPS brought me back to the big roads just west of Burlington and i continued on my way up I-89, keeping the running-hot Mini at about 60 MPH while the traffic breezed by me at 75. While the Mini will do 65-70 without complaining too much, itr does run hot at those speeds, and since it was a warm day, i kept my foot light on the accelerator.
I arrived at the US/Canada border with the need to pee and a 45-minute wait to see a customs agent. I made it through with the agent commenting that i was on the wrong side (my Mini is right-hand drive) and quickly pulled in to the available restrooms on the Canadian side. The remainder of the trip was mostly on big roads but the temperature guage on the Mini stayed north of normal without encroaching on the H end of the scale, allowing me to wend my way into Centre Montreal without too much trouble. My GPS deposited me right next to the Holiday Inn, but i had to forge a slow city-traffic route around the block to enter their parking garage from the one-way street that it was on. I descended to the lowest parking level, 5 stories down, and found a spot in a corner under a large ventilation duct. Any normal SUV wouldn’t have fit under there. I checked in, stretched, and relaxed for a bit before heading over to the Convention Centre.
I had purchased a 3-day Deluxe Pass and found that the entrance for Deluxe and VIP passholders was only half a block from the hotel. I checked in, received my free cheap plastic tote bag and cheap comic (Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles—bleah), and headed into the convention hall. I spent a couple hours there doing a fairly complete tour of the alleyways of booths. I talked with some artists and exhibitors and located a couple of things that i thought i might buy, but i didn’t spend any cash that day. I did take a picture of a nice shoulder bag with a dog/wolf on it that i thought that my friend Chrystal would enjoy and inquired if she in fact would like it. When i’d had enough, i went back to the hotel and did a search for movie theaters. I found one about a mile away and set out for it, figuring that i’d grab a little dinner, maybe pizza, on the way there. The Convention Centre and hotel were right in Chinatown, but i wasn’t in the mood for that cuisine, so i walked on toward Rue Saint Catharine. Upon reaching that avenue, i discovered that the Montreal Jazzfest was going on. Many blocks of the street were blocked off and filled with people and stages. I passed through, hunting for the movie theater. After i’d walked west for far too long, i figured that i must have missed the theater and turned back, finding it at 7:15, right when the movie was scheduled to start. I quickly bought a ticket and what passed for my dinner—a small popcorn and an orange soda—and found a good seat near the center, not too close, to view the spectacle that was Mad Max: Fury Road in all of its 3d glory.
When i got out of the movie, i felt good—that kind of pumped up, clear-thinking scrappy feeling that can come from being energized by a mesmerizing piece of crazy filmmaking. I walked back up Rue Saint Catherine and into the Jazzfest mess, snapping some guerilla-style pics along the way from high above my head or down at my waist. I ambled along, in no hurry, but eventually ended up back at the hotel, where i surfed through the 70% French/30% English TV stations until past midnight.
Saturday, July 4
I had breakfast at the hotel restaurant—a Chinese place. It had the traditional western bacon, sausage, eggs, waffles, pastries, but also had noodles and soups. I had two helpings of scrambled eggs and bacon, then returned to ComicCon. This time i explored the whole Convention Centre, seeing what was going on in the various other rooms. There was a Pokemon tournament going on which i wasn’t interested in, and only a handful of people in the tabletop gaming room. I talked with one of the vendors there who described for me, in broken English, the newest version of the board game Pandemic. The language barrier was evident at Montreal’s ComicCon. The artists and exhibitors would begin in French and only switched to English when i sheepishly asked. Most were quite capable in their non-native tongue though, and i said bonjour and merci a lot.
I had heard from Chrystal and she was interested in the bag, so i bought it, paying for it with my credit card via a Square device. During the purchase, i entered my email address for the receipt and was impressed to find out that, about ten minutes later when i purchased something else with the same method, my email address was already in the syetem. Ah, technology. There was a Square booth at the show and i said that they had a neat product and then they gave me one. Well, the little doodad is free, the service is what you pay for. But now i have one for whenever i may need to sell books. Speaking of books, i did hand out a few business cards to some people as i chatted with them about being a self-published children’s book author.
Having purchased the cool bag, i proceeded to fill it up with more comics and graphic novels than i had intended to buy. I went back to some of the artists that i’d chatted with the day before and some of them remembered me, which was nice. I toured through the autograph section but no one that i was really interested in was signing when i went through, and i didn’t have much desire to stand in a long line to say i-don’t-know-what to a celebrity. I snooped around some of the panel discussion rooms, but again, no one that i really knew. All of the films that were being screened were horror films and i had no interest in that. I took some pictures around the ComicCon, but i didn’t get the one pic that i wanted—a picture of a crowd of people taking pictures of someone in costume. There was a lot of that, but i never was quite in the right place at the right time. Speaking of costumes, i did get a fair glimpse of much cleavage, looking while trying to look like i was not looking. The neat thing about a ComicCon though is that if you show up in a great costume, or a cheesy costume, or a horrendously bad costume, or no costume, everyone thinks that you’re ccol. The variety of societal backgrounds ran the gamut, but everyone was just happy to be there and no one cared who you were. Plus, the trust was heartening. No bag checks at all—just walk in with whatever—as compared to the gates around the Jazzfest, where i had to demonstrate that my camera bag only held a camera.
After filling the bag, i went back to the hotel and vegged out for a bit, then headed west again to a different movie theater further away. I skirted Saint Catherine this time, as it was cordoned off for many more blocks and the crowds would have made it very slow going, and only cut back up to that street when i reached the right street numbers. I arrived, once again, just in time for the movie and settled in for the heart-wrenching, uplifting, silly, who-else-but-Pixar masterpiece Inside Out, also in 3D. After that experience, i had a slice of Pizza Pizza and stopped in at a comic book store next door, where i bought the latest Futurama comic.
After a slow journey back to the hotel (passing by a bar where the FIFA Women’s World Cup 3rd-place game was going on (Germany 0, England 0)), i rested, then found the energy to walk down to the waterfront, where there were crowds of people enjoying a rib-fest. I bought an ice cream cone and explored the queys, taking pictures, then took my achy legs back to the hotel and an earlier bedtime.
Sunday, July 5
Breakfast in the hotel again—same thing—then i topped off the fluids in the Mini in preparation for the drive home. I thought about leaving right then, but decided to stop in at the ComicCon one more time. I had enjoyed carrying around the bag that i’d bought for Chrystal so much that i thought that i’d buy one for myself. I had some time before the gates opened for the day, so i walked in the muggy heat down to the waterfront again and explored around the old Montreal grain silos. By the time i got back to ComicCon, i was sweaty and gross, but cooled off a little in the air conditioning of the indoors. I bought another bag (with a winged dog on it), talked with the vendor, then bought one last comic collection with my last Canadian $10 bill. The artist drew a cute picture inside the book and signed it. One last circuit of the hall and back to the hotel. Checked out, zipped up out of the sub-basement, and navigated the relatively empty Sunday-morning Montreal streets to the Champlain Bridge and south.
Actually, i didn’t quite go south yet. Instead of turning down toward the US crossing and I-89, i continued on east and angled down to the border crossing between Frelighsburg, QC and East Franklin, VT. I was rewarded by some nice scenery and a Customs gate with ony two people on bicycles in line ahead of me. The customs agent was friendly, if a little bored, and i was through in minutes. From there i kept on VT Route 108 which heads through farm fields straight toward the imposing massif of Mount Mansfield. It was neat to be driving toward that, knowing that i was about to wind up through Smuggler’s Notch and down the other side into Stowe, where i’d pick up Route 100 and continue south.
In the town of Waterbury, i was easing through town when a group of people on the sidewalk shouted out praise and cheers for my cool little car. Just as i was passing them, i turned their attention to another Austin Healey Sprite (a dark green one) which i’d just noticed was passing me going the other way. For some reason, small British cars can make people smile. I continued down Route 100 but instead of taking it all the way to Ludlow, i took a right and went through the Brandon Gap, picking up US 7 again in Brandon, then back down to Evening Song Farm. Kara and Ryan, the farmers, had picked uyp Seera for the weekend and i stopped to see if she was still with them, but no one was around the farm. I got home to find Seera happily at home and happy to see me. I got home just in time to watch the men’s final of the US Open ultimate tournament (Revolver vs. GOAT, Revolver won). When that was over, i pulled up the Women’s World Cup final, but it was still pre-game show, so i watched some TV while having dinner, then came back to find that the score was already 4-1! Finished watching the game, then hit the bed, reading some comics before cutting the light, appreciating the fact that i was taking the next day off of work.
Recap
It was an expensive weekend and i wish that i could’ve had a travelling companion, but it was a fun diversion to the endless greenery of Vermont. I had never been to a ComicCon before and it was interesting to see and learn about. I was surprised that a lot of the artists were drawing and selling, essentially, other people’s ideas. They had drawings and paintings of comic book and movie characters, but nothing that they’d originated. There were a fair amount of originals of course, but it was just one of those strange things. The drive was long but not boring. The hotel was comfortable, even if my neighbors were a bit noisy Saturday night. The people everywhere were every hue on the planet and friendly. The city streets smelled of a thousand different women, foods, cigarettes, garbage, perfume, and who knows what else. It was a full sensotry load.
Would i do it again? Yep.
The Route
Here’s where i drove: Adam’s Trip.