Email from Caro: Leaving Las Vegas

Geez, so I had typed the whole ‘Caro’ saga from Toronto to Chicago (4 hours paid internet time in a crappy café), only to hit the ‘send’ button whereupon it disappeared into the universe, probably returning to earth sometime in the future when an Ape gains control and every major statue looks like a monkey…yes, I have seen the movie…and quite frankly, it would have been far more exciting had Mark Wahlberg been wearing a loincloth.

And so, it was the flight from Las Vegas to Toronto where I joined the "white middle class" having purchased an inflatable neck pillow.  Tired of looking halfway between Quasimodo and Riff-Raff from Rocky Horror after falling asleep on flights and bus trips, I threw away any semblance of ‘cool’ and had the most comfortable sleep ever, on the red-eye flight to Toronto.

Until now, I had filed ‘neck pillows’ under:

a) Those who knit.
b) Those who wear acrylic twin sets.
c) Those who carry on those damn wheely suitcases and get in your way as soon as you enter the airport until you sit in your designated seat on the plane.
d) Those who insist on rearranging their blanket, spit-through pillow, and their baggage while generally loitering in the aisles, while the rest of us are attempting to board.

c) and d) have become the 2 things that send me into a seething frenzy within seconds.

So, we arrived in Toronto, and before leaving the airport, went in search of a cash machine and Canadian dollars. This is where we automatically fall into our ‘good cop/bad cop’ routine, as we discovered our credit cards were useless bits of plastic as far as Canadian ATMs go. Uh-oh, uh-oh, 
uh-oh.

"OK Symon, how are we going to pay for a cab to the hotel?" 
"How are we going to live while we’re here in Canada for 3 weeks?"
"Did this happen when you came here last year?"
"F*ck"
"Do you work here?"
"What’s your name?"
"This place is a f*cking shithole"

It’s usually around this time when Symon says or does something sensible and is ‘Good Cop’.   

As in this instance, Symon’s reply was, "We’ll just change our American dollars into Canadian, which will give us enough to get by until we get to a bank".  Oh, ok.

I like to have a bit of a tantrum, especially in airports, as staff seem to be po-faced and as unhelpful as possible while still seemingly gracious, and whoever is on the receiving end usually ends up being really helpful (and relieved) after speaking with Symon.  

But, if in the back of your mind, you’re thinking that my tantrums are a waste of energy, well now.  If the ‘Good Cop’ goes in to sort a problem out immediately, often he gets crap service or bad advice because they think he’s too nice to complain and is forced to ask one or two other people who are equally disinterested.  It’s a routine that has been very successful.