I think I’ll figure out how to do a Rubik’s Cube blindfolded before I wrap my head around Calgary.
When I first stepped off the plane I thought I’d landed in Austin, Texas, with cowboys playing guitars in an old-time bluegrass band right in the airport. But then I went outside and saw the Space Needle-esque Calgary Tower and figured I’d was headed in the proper direction.
Well, it turns out nobody had told ol’ Rhoda that Calgary has honky-tonk tunes and a big ol’ honkin’ tower, so I’d like to think my confusion was understandable. Although, with my head spinning a bit at that point, it was a relief to discover that their native language is quite similar to English in many ways.
Just the same, it’s always wise to speak loud and clear when you’re in an exotic land, to make sure you’re understood, so I jumped in a cab and shouted, “To the Sheraton, POR FAVOR!”
“Are you here for the Stampede ma’am?” asked the suspiciously friendly cabbie. (I would soon discover that many Canadians are not only suspiciously friendly and amiable, but obnoxiously polite as well!) I hadn’t heard tell of any stampede, but I figured in a city this size that animal control and the police would soon have things under control.
Again, turns out Rhoda was wrong and that this stampede was something to go to, not run from, but who would’ve known? A bit like calling your ski festival ‘Avalanche’ to my way of thinking, or your restaurant ‘Fire, Fire!’
Now I will confess that the actual Stampede was a hoot, including a grandstand area that showed off the kind of cuisine Rhoda lives for and maybe will die from. I tried to contain myself to some Pizza on a Stick, but when I found out the donut holes in the Donut Burgers had no calories I had to have one of those as well. With a chuckwagon coming up, I didn’t want to overdo it.
Can you believe Rhoda was wrong—well, misinformed, anyway—a third time? The ‘chuckwagon’ turned out to be a race rather than a cookout, so clearly they don’t know how to name things around here. If you still don’t believe me, all the ‘cow’ boys in these parts actually ride horses. Go figure. But it was a hootenanny all the same, and Rhoda even picked a few winners from the program—when she wasn’t getting whiplash watching all the cowboys walking and riding past in their dungarees. Yee-haw!
Other highlights were aplenty on this fabulous FAM trip, though that name was off the mark as well since there were no families to be seen in our group. Calgary has an amazing zoo for example, although the butterflies in their enclosed gardens are basically impossible to swat. And their Olympic Park gave me a great idea for a TV show about bobsledders trying to lose weight: The Biggest Luger!
I also enjoyed the cleanliness, sheer beauty and apparent safety of the city, though a criminal incident did occur our final evening, when our group witnessed a young lady popping out of a double-parked SUV to pluck a rose from one of the many baskets adorning the streets.
“See,” remarked one of my associates, “there is crime in Canada!”
And a stampede you don’t have to run from. Who would’ve figured?