Sailing, Chicks, a Haka in a Bar and a Horse named Hank: August 1 2006

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------




Kiaora to all in Kiwiland.



Welcome to another albeit belated "week that was", the insight into the world of Toronto Pip, his trusty, rusty & crusty side-kick Mississauga Juju and don't forget the incorrigible & lovable Montreal McGregor.



There has been a lack of "weeks that were" due to a brain malfunction on my part. In the last 7 weeks Juju & I have been on holiday with Mum & Dad [Niagara Falls (again), Montreal, Nova Scotia, New York & other various places around N.E. North America], plus various road trips, and business travel on my part all of which are in my draft file awaiting final anecdotes, jokes and hope we don't all croak before sending. I will get them to you as soon as possible, I know you can't wait.



However here is my last weeks travel which consisted of 3 states of the US of A, a sailing adventure on lake Michigan, a golf match to be forgotten, a Haka in a bar, rental car blues, don't forget the normal shit fight that is Chicago O'Hare airport [busiest in US at present], beautiful women and a horse called Hank.



LAKE MICHIGAN

So I leave Toronto Monday 4am to fly to Buffalo to connect to Chicago to drive to Milwaukee in Wisconsin, all this done by 10.30 for my first appointment. Meetings go well all day and new rep may be a keeper. I find out that he is a sailing legend in these parts and due to the fact that I am from NZ apparently I am of Americas Cup sailing quality and need to take him out in his yacht and teach him how to sail. Oh great I say "that will be fun, what is your boat", "a Hobie" he replies. "A catamaran" I said, OH NO they developed a yacht that is 36 feet long with a width of only 6 feet, swings a long keel with bugger all lead and if you get it wrong it is spectacular, it sails like a mini version of a current Americas cup boat. So out we go onto the lake, I bark orders and tell people to haul on that, set that, sheet that, pump that, and that was just starting the engine. Needless to say I was on a roll and doing fine SO FAR. Albeit to a crew of 3 including me. The radio

crackled that there was a severe weather warning to the north of us with 50 kt gust and thunder and lightening. So I say lets head north and have a look its what we do in NZ, [mean while my head is thinking of the movie "a perfect storm" although I am sexier than George Looney]. The skies darken the wind gets stronger and the thing we are sailing decides to take on a new lease of life, [needless to say a boat that is 36' long and only 6' wide makes like a knife and or submarine like characteristics] It starts to blow 20kt's constant and we are doing about that down wind, of course the owner and crew are happy because Kiwi sailing expert boy is at the helm. Then we get a gust which lays us flat keel out of the water, it makes for exciting vocabulary [more yelling haul on that, let that go, cut that, don't drop that (my rum), after a few strikes of lightening to close for comfort we all decide to go like the wind back to the marina and call it a day. I don't know what they

think about NZ's sailing ability, however you can rest assured that we are all mad, stay calm under pressure, and never spill a drink no matter what the circumstances are.



THE GOLF

Then its onto Minneapolis, Minnesota. More meetings all good and they decide to take me to play golf. All good I say. However the heat wave in North America means that our 12pm tee off is in 37 degrees with no wind and humid-ex at 42 degrees. It has to be the hottest temperatures I have play any sport in. Then add to that a golf course that requires 7 holes to carry 180 to 200 yards over water or reeds, 15 of the 18 had either water or trees or both down each side of the fairway & and 2 par 3's that required a driver to reach. As Jack Nicolas or Mark Twain once said "a good walk ruined". Enough said, and don't even ask.



AIRPORT, RENTAL CAR.

Then its back to Chicago, drop the car of at rental company only to remember I had forgotten to fill it up, rental car companies like to charge double the pump rate so $6.60 a gallon later I am on my way. Glad I didn't inform them of the scratch and dent in the oil pan, but that's another story.

Airport has about 250,000 people all trying to check in, get through bloody security, find there gate, hope its all going well and move on. This all on account that the radar had failed, there were thunderstorms and about 200 flights the previous night and through out the day had been canned. So smooth sailing for Mr. Wood, OHH NO not me, I have to get special treatment. I get selected for a special security screening, [must be my fake pass port name Akbar CamelPip MeccaMasefield HussainWood, I knew I should have taken the Fess off when I had the photo taken]. They take you aside search your bags, rub you down and you pray that no one says bend over while they are putting on a rubber glove. Needless to say I miss my flight. That's OK as they have 7 more this evening. No sir we are booked solid, I can wait-list you on the 12.20am. At this point there are two options, act like an idiot and shout, scream, even cry OR head for the bar. I chose option two.



THE BAR, THE HAKA, THE BEAUTIFUL WOMEN.

I get to the bar to find thousands of other travellers in the same predicament. I chose a quite corner where there is a family including grand parents all having a nice time. We get talking the usual, we start laughing, drinking etc. They are on holiday and heading for a dude ranch [horse farm] the next thing I know I am being invited to come along, I don't think the banshee would be too impressed with that one eh? As we get louder we start to gather a good sized group of people, then she walks in the second women of my dreams [first spot taken by she devil, I had to say that though, really] she sees the harmless family and moves on over. Fantastic we all start talking and getting on famously, she then invites me to Rhode Island for the week end [now she who must be obeyed would seriously be unhappy], I try to come up with a compromise in that she joins us all at the dude ranch. Onto my 5th rum and some idiot in the bar says don't you Kiwi's have some war dance you are

always doing, that's all I need, next thing you know I.m up on the bar going hell for leather and giving it my all, including tongue and that's just with Miss Rhode Island, I refuse to do the new throat slitting thing as I think it is stupid. Miss Rhode Island is suitable impressed that's a real bugger, as are the dude ranchers and most of the bar. Some many hours later I am informed I am on the 9.20pm flight home, reluctantly I fly to Buffalo to connect to Toronto.



A HORSE NAMED HANK.

I arrive back in Toronto at 12.30am, fly out the door and smack straight into a horse with a policeman sitting on his back, trying not to appear to inebriated I strike up a conversation to which the horse tells me his name is Hank, nice horse, I ask him if has ever been to a dude ranch, or Rhode Island, he says no to both, we part in different ways, and I head home to Miss New Zealand and Montreal McGregor.



Cheers & love to all.

Toronto Pip