Day 4
It was the best of days, it was the fourth of days.
At this time of year, the shadows seem to fall harder than at other times.
The sun is starting to hit the part of the sky that gives you more light for longer than the winter, but still always seems to be on a bit of an angle, creating a waxing and waning array of constant shadow over everything around.
Spending all day on the road and arriving in a city in the evening at this time of year can make a place seem pretty dark. Not like emotionally dark or spiritually dark, but more so, why did they build the buildings so close together here, so they almost completely block out the sun after 4 pm, type of dark.
As a Canada fan, I love Ottawa, seeing as it is the capital of Canada. I love the fact that we chose to run our country out of buildings that look like they make up a satellite campus of Hogwarts. I find it charming and quirky that everyone in this town works for the government. I dig that you can go skating on the canal in the winter, but I’ve never been here in the winter.
My only gripe with our nation’s capital - other than that the buildings are a little too close together so as to block out the sun at 4 pm - is a very personal one.
When I was in eighth grade, I joined my middle school’s improv team. Here is where I should say that it sparked a lifelong passion for theatre and acting et al, and for years, that’s kind of what I thought it did. But looking back in time through the reflections of our Dodge Grand Caravan’s side view mirror, I think what it really did is give me a platform to be an insufferable little guy. In it for all the wrong reasons, I think is how you could put it.
Class clown style - wasn’t a team player even if I wanted to be.
Just too interested in standing on stage and trying to get a reaction.
And so for 5 years of my life, I did improv.
Every year, we would take a boat from our little island over to the bigger island to compete in regionals. This was a sport like any other. But this one featured guys like me rather than stronger, faster guys.
We were pretty good! We would often place top three but could never win the coveted top position, which came with an invitation to compete at the national improv competition in Ottawa.
But one day, around grade 10, I decided it was my destiny to go off on an exchange. And so the following year, I was gone.
There were no improv teams in Indonesia. Well, this probably wasn’t true, but with my limited handle on the language at the time, there definitely weren’t any I could be a part of. And what I can be almost certain of is that there were no improv teams in Indonesia that abided by the rules of the CIG (Canadian Improv Games).
I think you can guess where this is going at this point.
The one year I’m not on the team, the only year of my high school career that I’m not there hamming it up. They win regionals, go to Ottawa, and almost win nationals.
I don’t often appreciate how arrogant I was as a child, but in retrospect, I’m grateful that I, for some reason, didn’t take it to heart when I heard the news: a team made up of literally everyone but me was able to achieve so much more success than a team made up of literally everyone but me plus me.
None of that is Ottawa’s fault, but I missed out on a chance in high school to see that big spider by the art gallery, and it’s taken me many years to work up the courage to try again.
And so here we were now, rolling past the tall shadow-casting pillars of government efficiency (POGE), on our way to our friend Pat’s house.
Pat and his partner Hannah have a dog named Peach who isn’t allowed to walk down the stairs on his own. They have a killer basement with a massive TV. We tried to watch Enter the Void on it last time we were here, but that was a mistake - watching that movie in almost any setting is a mistake - so we ended up watching Saving Private Ryan instead. Also a mistake.
We got ourselves settled in, but we were running a little behind. No time for Gaspar Noé right now, it’s off to the show with us.
I am very protective of my Sundays. They are my sanctuary. Laura and I will usually order in and then watch TV, and that’s pretty much it. It’s amazing.
Seeing how personally protective of my Sundays I am, I figured it was going to be a stretch to get people out to a show on a Sunday. It’s only fair, really. I mean, I guess White Lotus is done now, so at least we had that going for us.
But there’s a reason they hold the CIG (Canadian Improv Games) national finals in Ottawa. These people improvise. (In the sense that they switch it up or something. There’s a joke to be made here somewhere, but I’m getting improv fatigue.)
It was a great night with great bands at a great venue. I was surprised by an old friend from middle school, but forgot to relay the improv story from above. We’re going to come back to this place soon. I still haven’t seen the spider. Ottawa, you’re a gem, and I’m coming back to see that spider. I swear to god. I swear on my life I will see that spider once before I’m gone.
We went to bed the earliest of the trip so far. We watched 30 minutes of Walk Hard on Pat’s massive TV in his killer basement, but we had to get our rest. Tomorrow was a straight shot to Charlottetown, by far the farthest east in Canada I’ve ever been.