From October 14th to the 17th, I had the opportunity to trip up to Buffalo, Niagara Falls, and Toronto with a fellow Bills fan.
I met this guy much like the same way I met Cooch- via the internet. His name is Mark Weiler and he writes for the site Bills Buzz, a site he founded. He grew up in Western NY and now lives in Virginia about an hour west of Washington-Dulles airport in D.C. He remains an avid Bills fan.
In addition to running Bills Buzz, he is a huge Buffalo wing fanatic who makes and sells his own wing sauce. Gonna give Mark another shameless plug- Wy's Wings.
To make a long story short, I had been an avid reader of his stuff when he was writing for another site. Eventually, he left that site and started writing for Bills Buzz full time. I had e-mailed him regularly while he was writing for that other site- and since then, we have engaged in some serious discussion/debates about the Bills. Now, if you've taken the chance to peruse through some of his articles, you'll see that this guy keeps meticulous notes- so if you're gonna spar with him- you better have your shizzle straight.
DAY 1- SHUFFLIN' OFF TO BUFFALO, AN UNFORTUNATE INCIDENT EATING BUFFALO WINGS, AND TRYING TO FIND A HOTEL IN TORONTO
FRIDAY OCTOBER 14, 2005
We put the thing together about 2-3 weeks prior to the actual trip date. I was flying up from Ft. Lauderdale. He was driving up from Virginia. I had an 8:45am flight out of FTL to Orlando where I caught my connection to Buffalo. The flight to Orlando was ridiculously short. I think I spent more time going through security in FTL. The flight was so fuckin' short, the flight attendants had to collect drinks even though a lot of people didn't even drink half of what they had. There were people that only took five or six sips of their coffee. Why even bother serving drinks?
So we got into Orlando at like twenty-five past nine. Had about a two hour layover there, so I used that opportunity to fuel up at the McDonald's with a nice healthy Egg McMuffin and OJ. The line at the McKeydees look like a line for Sox playoff tickets. There were about three or four equally long lines about 15-20 deep each with fatasses- I mean people trying to scrounge up some kind of breakfast. In the line I was in, one guy cut in front unbeknownst to me. Chalk it up to daydreaming. A pilot, who was behind me in line, brought it to my attention. At that point, I said to him "time to get aggressive." So I stormed to the front when it was my turn to prevent unscrupulous mofos cutting in front of me, and put in my order. The Egg McMuffin really hit the spot, and it set the tone for a weekend of artery-clogging downright unhealthy eating.
Had an 11:35am flight out of Orlando to Buffalo. Not much you can do during a layover except make some phone calls and fire off text messages- so that's what I did.
The plan was for Mark to pick me up at the Buffalo airport around 2:00 when I was scheduled to land. He had left his house in VA around 7:00 and it's a seven hour drive to the airport from his house.
Landed in Buffalo around 2:05. Got off the plane and turned on my cell to see if he called or left a voicemail. Neither took place. So I made my way down to baggage claim to see if he was there. No sign of him. Then I went outside. Wasn't there. So finally, I hit up his cell. No answer. I left him a voicemail. I told him I had just gotten in and that I'd be waiting outside for him. Since we had never met before, I told him to look for a guy in a red shirt.
Did I mention I had a blue shirt on?
See where this is going? :)
At the time I left him the message, there was another guy outside in a red shirt sitting on a bench. I was going to stand idly by as Mark calls some random stranger into his silver pick-up. Ain't I a stinkah!
But something happened that threatened to put the kibosh on the entire plan! The guy in the red shirt went into the airport...never to be seen again! Fuck! :) Then Mark returned my call five minutes later. He told me he was running late. He made a wrong turn...zigged when he should have zagged, and that he was probably 10 or 15 minutes out. I told him aight, see ya when you get here. Meanwhile, my plan to pull a fast one on him went up in smoke.
So I go back outside to wait for him. As luck would have it, some kid in his early to mid 20's came outside in a red shirt! Fucking karma baby! He had a golf bag with him filled with clubs, and was listening to his I-Pod. I started laughing to myself envisioning how this was gonna go down! What the fuck was he gonna say when he saw that "I" brought golf clubs up!
The whole time, I'm standing about 10 feet to the right of the kid. The whole time I'm friggin holding back laughter just playing out in my head what's gonna happen. Finally, after about 20 minutes, I see Mark pull up. Best part, my alibi in the red shirt is still there...sitting on a bench listening to his I-Pod just staring off into space. Meanwhile, I'm just standing there nonchalantly as if I'm none the wiser. Mark slows down, stares at the kid in the red shirt, and rolls down his window. He looks like he wants to say something to him, but opts to stare at the kid some more. Dude in the red shirt is still listening to his I-Pod and is totally oblivious to the situation. Mark continues to go about 5 mph in the truck staring at him. I was waiting for him to yell at the kid for ignoring him, but it never happened. Fearing that he was going to drive off, I walked up to his truck in my blue shirt and said "are you Mark?" When he confirmed that he was, I busted out laughing! Mark started laughing, too. Wish I could have gotten him to yell at the guy and see everything unfold, but it was funny nonetheless, and really got things off on a good note.
After throwing my luggage in the confined quarters of his back seat, he looked at me matter-of-factly and asked me, "wanna stop for wings?" The answer to this question took very little thought. Does a thirsty man want water? Does a prostitute crave VD? Does Kordell Stewart crave transvestites?
We ended up stopping at a local joint called "Bar Bill's." With Mark having grown up in the area, I allowed him to take us to all the top wing places in the area, as well as all the worthwhile attractions.
Bar Bill's was your typical, hole in the wall wing place located in suburban Buffalo. I was looking forward to sinking my teeth into this culinary delight that Buffalo was so famous for. We ended up splitting a plate of 30 X-hot wings. Accompanying the wings was the customary bleu cheese dressing and celery. Both of us had beer to drink with our wings. For those not familiar, beer (or any alcoholic beverage) is intended to make the x-hot wings taste hotter.
The wings (actual wings not pictured) were excellent. A tad on the dry side, but they did not lack flavor and the heat of the wings did not overpower the flavor. I thoroughly enjoyed consuming them, as well as discussion of the Bills that commenced during our wing consumption.
But, something went wrong. On either the 12th or the 13th wing, I ended up swallowing down the wrong pipe. I started coughing uncontrollably. The whole time, Mark is talking to me, and I can't stop coughing. Finally, he notices, and asks "you alright?" I couldn't even talk! It's one thing to swallow water down the wrong pipe, but when you're swallowing extra hot buffalo wing sauce...whole different ballgame! My voicebox was fucking rendered useless. I kept coughing and coughing. For a few moments, I felt the urge to puke. I nearly puked right there at the table. How fucking embarrassing would that have been? A dozen undigested wings back on the table in Miller Lite soup wouldn't exactly be an easy clean-up. :)
After 10 minutes of coughing and trying to avoid blowing chunks, I finally was able to regain my composure. I slowly started to get my voice back, which was quite a relief. Man that shit scared the crap out of me! I literally could not talk for a good 10 minutes. I'd equate that experience to taking a shot of gasoline.
After the wings, it was time to head into Canada through Niagara Falls...then up to Toronto to try and find a hotel. But first, Mark wanted to take me to a spot along the American side of Niagara Falls where the views are supposed to be breathtaking. A short drive later, we were there. We parked and walked about a 1/2 mile along a
long-winding sidewalk and over a bridge 'till we got to the Falls. There were several rocks/mini-boulders which folks can climb onto and garner a better vantage point. So that's what we did. Some of the rocks were as tall as eight feet. I ended up snapping a few shots with my camera phone. We were literally right on top of the Falls and got a great view of the white running water as well as several magnificent water falls.
It was now time to make our way into "Oh Canada." Of course, going into another country, you have to go through customs. There were about four or five toll-booth style lines ranging from 10-15 cars deep. We were in line for a good 15-20 minutes. As soon as we got to the front, we were interrogated by a 18-22 year old in a scaled down mountie suit. Once we provided the suitable answers- like we were a couple of guys from Virginia and Florida up to see a Bills game, we were allowed through. About 15 feet past customs, I rolled down my window and yelled, "suckers!" Just kidding.
Once through, we stopped in Niagara Falls, just over the Canadian border. We decided to take a walk around. It was very windy there, and as a result, water from the Falls littered the streets. It gave off the appearance of rain, but in reality, the skies were partly cloudy at best, and it hadn't rained a drop. For those of you who haven't tripped to Niagara Falls, do yourselves a favor and check it out. It's truly a sight to see. One of the seven wonders of the world. I strongly advise not jumping in, unless of course you crave instant death by way of hitting a rock or drowning...
After checking out the Falls for a little bit, we made our way to Toronto. On our way there, we were on a side road looking for the highway we needed to take. After about 10 minutes on the side road, we came to a stop. Turns out the bridge we needed to go over was up so that a boat could go under it. As a result, there was quite a traffic backup. We were probably seven or eight cars deep from the front of the line. It looked like we were gonna be there for a while, so Mark ended up pulling off to the side of the road, shutting the truck off, and getting out. I followed. We both walked up to the bridge to check out what's going on. We look to the right and see this massive boat going about 3 mph, which was about the speed of somebody walking.
With that as a backdrop, Mark is often very critical of Bills runningback Willis McGahee in his columns. He often critiques him because he does not show the speed he had at Miami. He has not shown the ability to break a long run or be a "home run" threat- meaning take the ball to the endzone on a long run. So as sort of a joke, I told Mark that the name of the boat was the "U.S.S. McGahee." He laughed hysterically.
About an hour later (or so it seemed), the boat passed by and the bridge went back down. Soon after, we were on our way to Toronto...
Cooch can relate to this...Mark and I ended up getting lost trying to find the highway we needed to get on. Turns out we're not the only ones that are geographically impaired. We were both tired as fuck, we were in a foreign country, and it was getting dark.
Eventually we found our bearings and got on the fucking elusive highway. On the way to our elusive highway, we stopped at a "Lock" which is essentially a garage for a boat. When a boat wants to leave, two doors pull apart from the middle, allowing the boat through. We had witnessed a boat leaving the lock in our brief time there. I learned that boats travel from lock to lock transporting goods and services. It was a neat little stop on our way to Toronto.
The trip to Toronto was around 90-100 miles, so I settled in for some high quality daydreaming. We ended up arriving in Toronto fairly late, like around 9:00 or 9:30...can't remember, but at this point, we were hungry again...
We ended up driving by the Rogers Centre a.k.a. the old Skydome (cylindrical building, pictured left) as well as the world famous CN Tower- the tallest building in the world. From there, we made our way into downtown and onto Yonge St. There was plenty of nightlife on Yonge as well as the surrounding streets, but all we were concerned about is finding some grub. Mark suggested we get Thai food. I agreed. On the way to Yonge St., he stopped at the Raddison Hotel (which would be one of the main themes of the night...you'll see what I mean later) and accomplished two things. One was to check for rates, and another was to get a good Thai place to eat at from the clerk. Well, the rates we received were a little too high for our liking, but Mark ended up getting a good rec for a Thai eatery.
To make a long story short, we couldn't find the fucking place. We must have circled the block 20 minutes. So finally, we just picked out a Thai place that we drove by that looked good. We ended up parking our truck on a random side street about 2-3 blocks up and walked over.
On our way over, I soaked up the night scene. Yonge St. reminded me a lot of Broadway in NYC. People out and about, and plenty of illumination from the nearby businesses, restaurants, and clubs.
The Thai place was basically dead. I think including us, there were four or five customers. But the food we got was fairly decent. I'm not a huge Thai food fan, but I was open to trying it out.
After eating, we made our way back to the truck. This didn't exactly go as planned. We couldn't find the fucking thing! I figured we were only a couple blocks from the Thai place, and we only "peeked" down the street our truck was on the first time around. I wanted to walk down the street. Mark was convinced it was up further. Upon my lesser judgement, we continued walking. We must have walked around for another good 20 some odd minutes and we couldn't find it. Turns out we overshot it by quite a few blocks. We were both saying "didn't we walk by this place?" and "hey, I remember this place", but it was both a line of crap to make ourselves feel better at the time. But eventually, we started walking back through an alley that connected through all the side streets that we might have parked the truck on. Finally, we found the fucking thing! Mark thought momentarilly that it was stolen, so it was a big sigh of relief when it finally turned up...
From there, it was time to find a hotel to stay at. And so it began, the Lavinius/Weiler Toronto Hotel Tour 2005...
Why the hotel tour, you inquire? Short answer, we intentionally went into the trip without booking a hotel in advance. Here's why...
Mark had this fine idea to "negotiate" for hotels in Toronto, as we were likely to find a better rate looking for hotels in this manner, according to him. So I went along with it. I figured he knew what he was doing, he's done this before, so I put my trust in him.
Before embarking on the hotel tour, we had to stop for gas. Mark was dangerously low on gas. He had his "low fuel" light illuminated for what seemed like 100 miles. How we didn't run out of gas up to that point is a mystery, but I digress.
At our fuel stop, I learned that Canada uses "litres" instead of gallons, and the price I think he paid was 93 or 94 cents/litre. I also learned that Canadians spell funny.
After fueling up, we were on our way to find a place to stay for the night. We ended up getting off at any random exit that had a hotel sign. We'd stop at one hotel, get a shitty rate quote, get back in the truck and do it all over again. After continually getting shitty rate quotes, we'd get back on the highway, get off at another exit, and do it all over again. Pretty soon our hotel tour and shitty rate quotes were piling up, and it was getting rather late. Clock read 1:00am. At this point, we're both just tired as muh'fuckas and just want to find a place to stay for any reasonable rate. We didn't want to pay an arm and a leg because basically all we were going to do was check in, go to sleep, and check out the next morning. What the fuck do we want to pay $150/night Canadian for that?
Eventually we came across a Hilton just a hop, skip, and a jump outside of Toronto. They stepped up with a $116/night quote, which was by far the best quote we got in the 20 some odd hotels we stopped at. Combining price plus quality, this was easily the best. But we still weren't convinced. We wanted to check out some more hotels first.
One of the hotels we checked out was a Howard Johnson's that offered a room to us at $99/night with a AAA discount. The room was $104/night otherwise, so we sincerely thank HoJo's for the $5.00 discount. We both went in there, raided the candy bowl sitting on the counter of the front desk, and asked to see a room before filing out paperwork and committing to a room. So we got a room key. Room key didn't work. So we went back to the front desk, took some more candy, and told him the rook key didn't work. So he gave us another one to try. This key did work. We looked at the room, and Mark told me it was "your call" to either stay here or not. I said "fuck it, let's go to the Hilton", so we walked out, handed the key back to Mohammed Akbar Al-Hassan the clerk, took some more candy, and got out of there.
We made our way back to the Hilton. By then, it was pushing 2:00am. They gave us a good price and we just wanted to fucking sleep. After filling our the paperwork at their front desk, we made our way up to our room. We were finally looking forward to crashing from our long, long day.
Below, is a picture of our hotel room (minus the room service tray on the table and king-size bed LOL). Every room in the hotel was a two-room suite equipped with a working area and internet station. The desk to the far right had its own TV and telephone. The room certainly had ample amenities. However, the only room I was considering at that time is that door on the left just before the bedroom!
Before crashing for the night, I had been suffering some serious back-end trauma from those wings at Bar Bill's. My ass and colon felt like boiling molten lava. So for about 15 minutes, I was trying to relieve one of the most painful burning sensations I've ever felt in my ass. How bad was it? Put it this way- I'd rather have someone stick a blow torch up my ass after getting a colonoscopy with a gas nozzle. That's how excruciating the pain was. And since I didn't have the chance to shit on the ride up, there was some serious constipation going on. My deuce was in a traffic jam which backed up all the way to my small intestines, so for about 15 minutes, I was shitting rabbit pebbles. I would have loved to have dropped a spicy deuce Niagara Falls-style, but it was an all-out Cocoa Puff Fest instead.
After some serious colon emptiage, I felt worlds better. Mark had long since crashed while I was doin' my bid'ness, so finally, it was time for Lavinius to catch some Z's.
Fifteen minutes followed...at that time I came to terms with a serious revelation. Mark snores loud enough to wake the dead! He's easily 6'4" and 260, and when you got a guy like that snoring, windows are bound to break, and walls are bound to crack. So now I'm thinkin', "three nights of this?
On that note, another memorable first night of a road trip comes to a close.
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