Scrabblebiker Drools Over Belize

January 20, 2007

Only 7 days til I leave the rock and head off to greener, sweatier and more adventurous pastures. The rock? you ask. Well, that would be Vancouver Island in Beautiful BC. Victoria to be more precise.

Here I am 44 years old and putting all my belongings in storage on January 27, 2007. OK I'm only going for 4 weeks but what's the point of paying for an apartment while I'm gone, considering that I absolutely loathe the place. Smokers to the left of me, smokers to the right of me, smokers below me, and stompers above me. That's not the kind of filth that suits a refined being like me. Don't worry. When I return in March I've got a room lined up in some trailer with some lesbian I met online. I'm sure she's OK. Those guns are just for target practice she assures me. After all, some other lesbian I only met a few months ago vaguely knows of her and vouches for her.

The same day of my move I'm off to Vancouver. One night with a dear friend. Dang! I just realized that I have two dear friends in Vancouver and they'll just have to arm wrestle over who I'm referring to. Then I brave the I-5 to Seattle in my little Dixie for some last minute retail therapy and a one night stay with my good Scrabble buddy in Seattle. A good game, or 12, of cutthroat Scrabble might just break out while I'm down there prisoners. The flight on American Airlines is at 11:55pm on January 29th, leaving the gritty world of city bus driving behind. Did I mention that I'm a transit operator in Victoria, BC? Used to be a Greyhound driver and quickly learned to despise that lifestyle. Think about it! Working for a freakin' dog! So I moved to Victoria from Vancouver to be fed a dose of daily free entertainment on this fair hamlet's public conveyances.

The bike is almost ready to go. Amongst the insane clutter of my apartment I'm feverishly trying to find all the necessary bits and pieces for the trip before they get shoved into my 23 "miscellaneous last minute" boxes. Installed my brand new Schwalbe Marathon tyres on the old mountain mule today. I ended up snapping the handle off the Norco shop pump and bent the plunger as I tried to get the pressure up to 100psi. I'm not used to high pressure tires anymore. Been riding the old low pressure mountain mule for too long. A voluptious lady like me needs all the pressure she can get to make the pedalling a little easier. I always love how everyone's eyes go to my waist when I tell them that I'm going on a bike tour. Heck, even fat chicks can ride bikes. My 1400 km's down the Oregon and California coast will attest to that. So what if I stopped every 500 metres to catch my breath?

My friends are either telling me that I'm extremely fortunate and doing the right thing or telling me that I'm certifiably insane. As my French Canadian friend told me "Maudit tabarnacle, que t'est folle". It's probably a combination of both. But I really don't see what the fuss is about. I wish more of us would leave the autosauruses behind and use our own legs and asses to get moving. On the other hand, what the heck is a dyke like me doing going to a country where homosexuality is still illegal. OK, so no one is really being "convicted" of being gay in Belize and I'm being told that the law only applies to men about equality eh? ...sheesh! What are they going to do, send me to a jail filled with other women?

Stay tuned kids. More ramblings and musings to come.


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