Oh Canada! Saturday: In Which Musical Theater Nearly Does Me In

Saturday my mom and I went to Niagara Helicopters Limited, but the copters were grounded due to inclement weather.

On the way back, we passed by the Evel Knievel Daredevil Museum. My cousin said, “I suppose you want to stop there.” Are you kidding me? It was also a thrift store – score! 15 dollars poorer, one funny sign and crazy hat later, we were back on the road.

I don’t know what any of this has to do with Evel Knievel. But it was behind a velvet rope.

The camel toe wouldn’t fit in my luggage

We passed a cool motel that looked EXACTLY like the motel from Psycho. If I hadn’t seen the real Psycho set, I’d swear that’s where they filmed it. So when we counted heads and came up one bed short, I volunteered to stay at the Bates Motel. I wanted to take pictures inside the room. No one would let me stay there, something about drugs and hookers. So they found me a room at the Old Stone Inn.

That night we had tickets to “Oh Canada, Eh!” It was an unfortunate pick – probably my worst case of bad judgement this trip. I had heard the food was actually good, and it looked like it was going to be kitschy in a cool, drag-queen kind of way.

Instead it was a theme restaurant, like Medieval Times. Imagine Bear Country Jamboree meets Waiting for Guffman. Along with cheesy acting and the anticipated stereotypes (they even had a “newfie”), the hypercheerful music was unrelenting. The French Canadian accents were just painful. How in the hell did they manage that? You can’t throw a rock in Ontario without hitting someone with a real French Canadian accent.

For dinner there was a watery pea soup and mediocre salad that they comically cleared while I was still eating it. I just poked at everything else – a platter of mixed Canadian food – fried fish that wasn’t so bad, chicken, some of the worst beef ever, and I forget what else. Maybe I will recover the memory in therapy. You may wonder where the food photos are – well, I had a broken lens that wouldn’t focus on anything within three feet of me – be grateful.

At the end of the meal, they offered “Squirrel cake” Squirrel cake? Really? Although I’m sure my ancestors probably did eat squirrel, I must have heard them wrong. It turns out it was swirl cake. Chocolate and maple. Yeah, maple. The most intense, awful, maple badness ever. We all tried to be subtle as we spit it out. I wish it was squirrel cake.

It was kind of a relief when they cleared the dessert dishes, since it meant that the show was almost over. Not so fast, Missy. It went on and on and on. I went outside and started making phone calls during the Gordon Lightfoot tribute.

Keeping with the Psycho theme, there was some appetizing taxidermy on the walls.

The room at the Old Stone Inn was beautiful. Definitely a nice place to stay in Niagara Falls. It was right near a party row. Hunger and lots of people yelling wooohoooh drew me out of my room. Especially since my plan to get drugs and hookers at the Bates Motel had been thwarted.

Hello? Halal Indian Food and Evil Psycho Clown. May I help you?

I happened upon this place on Clark Avenue simply called Indian Buffet Restaurant. It was too good to be true. An Indian buffet open til midnight? Score. As I stood there considering my choices, one of the waiters approached me, “You are so beautiful. I will make you anything you want – special.” Amongst my many superpowers, I seem to have the strange ability to mesmerize East Indian men. Friends who have witnessed this power in action attribute it to my red hair. Others think it has something to do with my breasts.

“How about a garlic naan?”

“Anything for you!”

“OK, then, TWO garlic naan!”

When you are a lone traveler, the desk clerk is your best friend. The clerk at the Inn was so sweet, when he saw my take-out bag he took my food in the back and put it on covered plates with real silver as if I had ordered it from room service. So I curled up for the night with a 10.99 movie and my riches of naan. Swank.

Ontario does love its phallic symbols

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