July 18

First of all I would like to wish Canada a Happy 150th Birthday. You are a sexy bitch and you wear your age well. You can acknowledge some wonderful moments - Passchendaele, Vimy Ridge, CN railroad, Tim Hortons. You've also had some misses - residential schools, internment camps, Robert Pickton, $10.5 Million to Omar Khdar. But hey, we all learn from our mistakes, right? 

My current complaint is inviting everyone to our birthday party. No one likes drunk Uncle Steve or our second cousin Lucy that has tattoos and nose piercings. I also do not like the assholes in our national parks. If you are stupid enough to walk up to a grizzly with your 5 year old for a photo opportunity then that qualifies as natural selection. The world is a better place without you. And drivers. My. God. The. Drivers. Awful. I have considerable road rage at the best of time (Sylvan Lake drivers you know you're the worst. You fuckers all race up to those lights on Highway 11, passing all other drivers AND THEN TURN OFF!) 

But driving on Highway 93 is a test of patience, perseverance and whatever the hell else I do not possess. People pulling out into on-coming traffic, turning without signaling, slamming on the brakes to take a picture of a God damn crow, and my favourite....driving 60km/hr in a rented RV that you have no business driving. 

This week I had the joy of driving 93. I absolutely love the drive, we do it 10 or 15 times a year. Breathtakingly beautiful. Proud to be Canadian. We stopped at the overflow camping area at Lake Louise for a quick lunch on our way to enjoy beautiful British Columbia (which, unfortunately, just wandered back to the NDP side of government) anyway, we pulled into the parking lot and it was a mad house. They had parking attendants directing traffic. This was a shock to us because usually it's us and the odd car stopped for a bathroom break and 125 photo-worthy crows. 

So this fucker directs Darren and Jen to the desolate back 40 of the campground. I'm next and I quickly explain that I'm with the motor home, he quickly requests that I, "stop talking". I smile (but I'm thinking that I will later track him down and burn down his house) he tells me to go back and park by other trailers. Again, I smile and say thank you. I go back and park the trailer by Darren and Jen's, he runs his ass over there and gives me shit and tells me to park 50 feet away. Again I smile and say absolutely...you miserable fucker. I park and walk over to D&J's with chairs, dogs, bacon and beer. We enjoy a breakfast BBQ and then he comes over AGAIN to tell us our hour is up and he needs our parking spots. The parking lot has roughly 150 open spots but ours are so glorious and coveted that he needs ours. I swear to God I was going to have a throw down. I'm fairly certain that there is no hour limit on overflow parking, nor is there designated parking, nor do I give a flying fuck that he needs 150 spots for foreigners to take pictures of Lake Louise!! 

So, Canada, I know that 150 is a banner year but next year when we celebrate 151 can we have a quiet ceremony? Maybe a backyard BBQ? Invite only close friends? Smokies and cold beer? I look forward to the invite - yours truly, Stacy.