“Oh…Show me the way to go home…

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i had a little drink about an hour ago and it went right to my head…”

My grandmother, the queen of abolition, used to sing this song to us as kids when it was late and, as she would so amusingly put it, we were holding our eyelids up with toothpicks.

Last night i went to visit an old friend from high-school in Ste. Anne de Bellevue which is a very considerable distance from my current home base. I had a beer for dinner. Only one, but the song still applies.

Trying to get home was a nightmare. There was a huge accident that prevented me from accessing the road that led to either of the two highways out of that little town and back to Montreal…so i drove ten minutes along the river in a 30 km/hr zone…to discover an on-ramp blocked off for construction. I turned around again and drove another fifteen minutes down the road to the next on-ramp…lo and behold it too was blocked off for construction…another fifteen minutes later i got on the 40 (the 20 was AGAIN blocked off at St. Charles’). I hate Quebec’s road construction.

It decided to start to pour while i was driving on a temporary road separated from oncoming traffic only by those flimsy orange pylons. It was pouring so hard i could no longer see more than ten feet in front of me, but there was nowhere to stop. A filthy, likely smog-based, grime had accumulated on the windshield preventing it from shedding water. I ALMOST said a prayer, but thought better of it.

What should have taken 40 minutes was extended to an hour and a half. LOVELY.

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