The Theme of This Trip

Every trip I take seems to end up with its own theme.  Like that one time I felt like I stepped in Taxi Repellent for the whole trip.  I have just discovered the theme of this trip.

But first -- the one thing I learned about Ottawa that is not in any of the tourist materials I've read:  Ottawa is the capital of Canada.  This part you know.  The part they keep secret is that every eighth grader in the entire Province of Ontario is required -- as part of the curriculum -- to come on a trip to Ottawa.  And they all come in May and June.  This may have explained the difficulty I had booking a room in this town.  I'm in the Holiday Inn tonight and -- tomorrow -- I'm meeting up with my friend Mary and we're moving to a snootier place.  (This was, in fact, planned from the start.)  I'm hoping the snootier place will be student-free.  When I got to my room at the Holiday Inn, there were kids screaming up and down the hallway.  I asked the lady at the desk if they had any "quieter" floors.  She laughed and said the kids are everywhere.  She also said that if I have any problems to report them at once and she'll handle it.  I think the kids have been warned (either that or they're still out) because it is quiet as a graveyard right now.

Ah, ok, so, theme of the trip:  Cancellations.

We began with Martin Short cancelling his show today because he got sick.

Got on the train.  I'd got a First Class ticket largely because a meal is involved.  By the time they got to me (back of the compartment), they were already out of two of the entrees.  (Ended up picking at some random pasta dish.)

I arrived in Ottawa, called the rafting place and found out that, yes, my rafting trip tomorrow is cancelled.

I decided to go for an evening stroll around the city (n.b. yes, they have gun control in Canada) and came upon a Ghost Walks booth.  They had a walk scheduled to depart at 9:00.  What luck!  It was 8:51!  Fifteen minutes later and I was the only one standing at the booth.  They cancelled the 9:00 walk.

Strolling back to the hotel, I came upon a quaint little restaurant -- a prime rib place in an old historic house.  Went in.  (Expected them to not be serving dinner anymore, but they were.)  Sat down.  Ordered prime rib.  Fries on the side.  Five minutes later the waiter comes back, terribly apologetic.  They're out of fries.  Of course they are.