The Nelson to Balfour Drunk-Drive Rally
A newer model VW Jetta (?), overturned in a ditch near Balfour, high speed, crossed lane, lucky no-one was killed. Circumstances and accounts vary, but it's been there a month and a half, and the facebook "explanations" seem to suggest that somebody shouldn't have been driving, didn't remain at the scene of an accident, and is now trying to claim his/her vehicle was stolen.
Then, a few weeks ago another, the same, a truck thrown up an embankment, slowly slipping down, there two weeks again...
Which inspires me, they should have an official Nelson-to-Balfour Drunk Drive Rally, sponsored by a local liquor store and the auto wreckers, every participant must drink a Mickey then get to Balfour as quick as they can, the winner gets a $1000 prize...you could close the highway just for this, everyone would attend, it would be like the local version of Formula 51 or Grand Prix...
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Timeshare in a beautiful woman...
And at the Cantina I run into Chris, old prospecting pal from the days of the restaurant, those days now over, he's working a different job, different schedule, but he pops by the restaurant to keep me posted on his adventures.
Now on a motorbike, now on a better one, now in the finest biker apparel, and I've come to realize his helplessness, his poverty-in-perpetuity, is, was, a sham, he denies himself nothing...
But back to the script, he gets around, a few girlfriends, and now at the bar next to a heavily tattooed but beautiful woman and he comes in, sits beside her and then sees me, he's got a timeshare in her, she's polyamorous, has a husband, and I must bite my tongue not to have a laugh, yes she's beautiful but this will come at a price...
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Summer, Crazy Days, Etc
The last few days, short staffed at work - as always, slammed Monday, but with regulars I knew, our "better" customers, then again Tuesday, non-stop, the sketched Shambala crews, some tippers, some not so much. The day is long, wave after wave after wave, like some sort of Zombie Apocalypse, people sitting on the beach, assholes every one, it's get through it to the end, these last 6 weeks promise to be brutally long.
Now C* - worked with last year, a worker, diner styled matronly waitress, a little too plump and doesn't like running, and the other, JR's mother in law, here to work but really she's "Doing us a favour", she's a problem, doesn't bus tables, or run the dishwasher, or a thousand other things necessary to keep the ship running smoothly. And as such I find myself incredibly busy only to realize I'm picking up the slack, I'm not so busy on my own behalf, rather busy picking up after this lazy-ass ...
Anyways, my ire peaked I leave her to do the cleanup, floor it into Nelson, it's my Friday and Taco Tuesday all in one and I'm going to start my week-end right.
The liquor store, the evening's ration, I run into a dirty B* from the Chamber of Mines, also getting a ration, although his is a little better quality, chat, he's enthused, South Slocan, found his way into a big crystal pocket, hauling out some huge ones, and I'm inspired, I'll have to pop round the Chamber of Mines and see what he's dug up...
After Tacos, (too many and not to the usual standard) I drive down to Rossland. Nighttime, late, the roads are empty and it's a peaceful hour and half spent.
The night, at altitude, cool, I tuck into my sleeping bag, I've not slept this good since, well, since it heated up.
Wednesday morning, café, coffee and a scone, then a nap on a bench waiting for the thrift shop to open. I'm keeping up my reputation...
No finds, but from here to a logging road, 20 KM up, all manners of mafic, ultramafic, igneous, some heavily mineralized veins up here, there's gold and I can smell it, some vuggy spots with rusty, dirty quartz crystals inside (none worth keeping), some what appears to be massive skarn garnet, greenish mineral (limonite?), brownish crystals (??), all sorts, and so this amuses me some hours poking about, then further up, freshly blasted a marble deposit, then again further up more veins of rusty quartz, which I smashed and smashed again in the hopes of seeing some free gold, but I did not.
From here now back onto the highway, and what was a pleasant nighttime drive is now the stress of getting out of the fucking way of every car zooming up behind, and there's not near enough shoulder for me to be on the highway. This drive is a nightmare, I need to remember - other than construction-delayed Kootenay Lake, to keep this beast off the highway in the daytime...
Castlegar, I find some Chinese, I should have waited, the owner, pleasant but incompetent, her server, the same, 5 minutes to take an order, to fetch a glass of water, to bring change, how is it possible given that I'm the only person here?...
***
Evening, cool down & nap in Lakeside Park. Find a spot on the grass with my book, read, doze, the park is filled with the ambient noise of children playing, there's a giant xylophone, drum in the park, they jingle and bang non-stop, the piano at the ice-cream café is tinkled upon by children, the conversations of passers by, glimpses of melody.
The drum circle begins, eyes closed and I listen, they're ferocious, laying down some good rhythms and beats, how many are they? More than fifty, not quite a hundred, they're very good.
And now something new, techno-world-fusion dance music, and I sit up and open my eyes...
Someone's driven a white car into the park, set up speakers, and is blasting this music...
People are dancing. I recognize Nelson from Nelson and he's there, smiling, always in a good mood, and he's explaining it's "Dance Fusion", ecstatic dance, just come and dance, and people, they are coming, soon there's a crowd, 50 people, 100 people, 150 people, I recognize them, so and so from the laundrette, the Magic Man, there's the autistic girl from the library, very pretty, looks like an elf, ears poking through long dark hair, the dancefloor is bounded by the extension cords running to the speakers, she for the first half stands outside it, on the very edge, hands dancing (not feet), then just inside it when she "joins", if that is the right word...
The dancing, world-beat music, not rave quality but good enough, and everyone is freestyling, 150 people, 150 styles of dance, the people, the people, aged 2-75, no one demographic predominates, there's jugglers and fire spinners (no fire, merely the spinner) practicing, hoop dancers, there's everyone...
This ends the evening...
***
This morning, coffee, Big City Girl is back again, and I'm wondering if it's to stay, and Magic Man asks if I enjoyed the Dance Fusion and I'm off to do laundry, hit the local thrift shops, drive off to Kokanee Creek to shower, shave, trim my nails, back into town for some lunch, then to the library, and now, time to do some work...
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Predatory Tipping Ideas...
And this has just occurred to me, with the rise in preposterous tipping standards - by which I mean any machine which starts above 10% or goes higher than 20%, or those machines that prey upon people that don't read carefully the prompts and organize the tipping in reverse, 20% (or greater) at the top and 10% (or greater) on the bottom, ...
Well, you get the idea. The whole culture's gone mad with unrealistic expectations and it seems I'm the only one to notice or publicly observe it.
Debit - POS machines - should make corresponding noises and have appropriate displays for both good and lousy tippers.
For example, when a customer selects the 20%, 25%, 30% option there could be a little "Woo-hoo" noise like you get on a winning lottery ticket, followed by a congratulatory "You're a Champ" or "What a Rockstar" or "Good Job!!!", and an appropriate fireworks display on the screen that turns from monochrome to full color and maybe a "Ching-Ching-Ching" noise like you get when a slot machine pays out. These noises should be broadcast loudly on the restaurant's intercom system so that all the customers can hear. And color code the Tipping options - red for 10%, yellow for 15%, and green for 20% or above.
Positive reinforcement I'd call it.
And for those tightwads that don't tip, or tip the bare minimum - perhaps a "Really?" or an under-the-breath muttered "Tightwad" or "Cheap Fuck" and the sound of a rasberry. Maybe even a "Try Again".
Now, how to pitch this idea to Moneris and the debit companies...a new "Industry Standard" debit machine that encourages and reinforces irresponsible tippers and big spenders...
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