Canada: Day 1

I woke up at 6:30 in the morning on a Friday to realize that I wasn’t, in fact, going to school. I was going to a whole other place: Canada. As I packed up my supply of five novels and one novella-download, all written at least in part by John Green, as well as my computer, I decided I would miss my room. My messy, cozy, blue-painted room covered in posters. At least I could bring one of my favorite things, a black acoustic guitar I named Lily. We started going Northwest in the big grey car that we’d made the trip in every other year. As we drove on, me reading Looking For Alaska, my parents tried with no avail to make mindless conversation.

“How have you been lately?”

“Are you liking the weather?”

“Are you dating that boy yet?”

I answered the questions in no more than three words each, due to the fact that I was intensely concentrating on the magnificent literary specimen in my hand.

“Good.”

“It’s too hot.”

“No.”

Of course, I actually was dating the boy. They just didn’t need to know. I read on and on, until we’d finally arrived at our first destination: Lake George, New York. Though the temperature combined with my black clothing made it almost unbearable, I suffered through nearly two hours of shopping with my parents. During this time, my mother repeatedly asked me, loud and in front of many strangers, if I needed new underwear. I was dragged to ten different stores, three of which did sell underwear, because of a simple promise. After suffering through all the needless spending of money for the sake of buying things, we would get ice cream. Though it took an unnecessarily long time, I did end up getting my peanut butter-chocolate swirl. It has been, by far, the high point of our drive. After that, we continued on our journey to another country. I continued reading my book, finishing it in just under eight hours. We were just a little bit past the Canadian/American border. My parents decided to stop for dinner at around five o’ clock, but we hit a massive amount of traffic. By the time the traffic had dissipated, it was already six, and we were all hungry. My parents then decided to loudly discuss the bad quality of a Thai food restaurant that we had just been inside directly in front of the people who were eating just outside the restaurant. The one downfall of having parents who grew up in New York City is that they do not know when it is time to speak softly. After another amount of time, we arrived at a small diner where we ate grilled cheese sandwiches. My mother expected the manager to remember her from the only other time we had been to the diner, which was nearly a year ago. I felt bad for the guy, mostly because I could tell that he didn’t actually remember us. He pretended to, anyway. After that, I began reading An Abundance of Katherines until my dad told me that I was straining my eyes too much and that nine hours of reading was enough. After that, we arrived at our hotel and after checking in, but before unpacking, I begrudgingly went for a walk with the family that I had already spent all day with. As I upload this, I am in bed watching any Canadian TV channel I can find that is not in French.