So, I did what any self respecting writer with even a grain of integrity would: I trimmed off all the fat, kept only the most important thoughts and points, told the story that I intended to, and posted the new, concise, and much more focused piece with a sense of great personal satisfaction.
Yeah, right…
Really, I thought to myself ‘sweet, I can actually squeeze two posts out of this turd…’ and clicked ‘submit’ without a second of hesitation. I could worry about the rest of the story later (ie: right now) and better spend the time watching a few episodes of Deadliest Ice Road Cupcake Wars before bed.
So, picking up where I left off last week: I had just told the story of how I selflessly gave up a genuine Tegan set list to the young girl sitting beside me at a Tegan & Sara show. Did I mention how noble it was of me? No? Because really, it was borderline heroic. Anyhoo… what I didn’t tell you was how I came to be at this particular Tegan & Sara show. I know, I know, you’re dying to know. And that’s why I’m going to tell you.
Wait. You’re actually still reading? Bless your heart. I’ll try not to make it too boring. Thanks for indulging me.
First and foremost, you have probably already figured out that this was not the Edmonton show. I mean, it’s pretty obvious with the clues I’ve already given, and you’re not a complete idiot, right? But what you may not know is that when they announced the tour, I had actually told myself that I would only do the Edmonton show this time. In the past I had made the drive to Calgary as well, and while I felt it was absolutely worth it each and every time, I still decided that I would just take in the one show this time around. Then they announced the venue: The Shaw Conference Centre. It's not a bad building, but man, it is definitely one of my least favourite concert facilities in Edmonton. So, already less than thrilled, when the VIP tickets (those which got you the aforementioned meet & greet) sold out instantly, even though I clicked away as quickly as I felt was humanly possible, I found myself more disappointed than excited about the show, once the dust settled.
Then I saw that Saskatchewan was still going on sale in an hour. And I saw that the venue was much more intimate, and would have much better acoustics. And more importantly, when I clicked on the 'buy' button, simply to see what was available before clicking cancel, I saw that not only could I have VIP, but I would also be front row, and just about centre on where Tegan normally stands. And, being a man of weak will, and little self-restraint, instead of 'cancel' I clicked 'accept'.
That's how I found myself on the road to Regina. Driving 16 hours in a 33-hour span, simply to get another meet & greet, and the best concert seats ever. And believe me, it was worth every mile, and every dollar spent on gas and stale gas station hot dogs. I'm not sure if it was the seats, or the venue, or the banter, or what, but the Regina show was much better than the Edmonton show. At least, it felt that way to me. But, I'm getting ahead of myself, because sometimes the journey is more important than the destination. In this case, the destination was pretty awesome, but still, I needed to get there none-the-less, and not wanting to be late, I felt that if I left at 7am, I would arrive at my hotel with 3 hours to spare. Sure, it was another hour to drive to the venue (I took the cheapest hotel I could find, which happened to be in Moose Jaw), but I still figured this would give me plenty of time and room for error.
Well, if you know anything about me and my relationship with mornings, it should come as no surprise that I didn't really get going until about 7:45, but it didn't matter, I still had over an hour of leeway, right? Of course, it wasn't until I noticed five hours into my drive that for some reason my car clock was now different than my phone's clock, that perhaps I was mistaken. You smarty-pants readers at home probably know the simple reason for this already: I had passed into the central time zone. But stupid-pants Travis hadn't considered this at all, And just like that, my last hour of leeway had vanished into thin air. Suddenly I was in the one position that I never wanted to be in.
I was in a rush.
Now, up to this point the roads had been fine. The cruise control had been set to a steady 122 km/h, and really, I could have easily gone faster on such a clean/clear surface, had it not been for my fear of getting nabbed by the Five-O. But now, I suddenly found myself in a hurry. I hadn't showered that morning (figuring I would have plenty of time to kill before the show), and I now had to decide between shaving 20 minutes off the drive and another 20 off by not showering and heading straight for Regina, or risking it all, and sticking to the plan of stopping in Moose Jaw first. My hotel didn't have a late check-in, so it was either head straight to Regina, be super greasy and smelly for my meet & greet, and then have no room to check into once the concert got out and I drove the hour back to Moose Jaw, forfeiting the money I had already paid for the room in the process, or go for it.
With about two hours to go, suddenly the roads got bad. Not undriveable, but any thing over 100 km/h soon became a distant memory. I arrived at my hotel with exactly 11 minutes left to shower if I was to hold any hope of making the meet & greet before the 6pm deadline. I was scrubbed and shampooed in record time, slapped some gel in the hair, brushed my teeth and was on the road with 50 minutes to spare. Of course, Google Maps was predicting it would take me 54 minutes to make the journey, and it was making this prediction based on being able to average the 110 km/h speed limit that spanned the entire stretch of highway between me and my destination. It did not take into the account the Top Ten worst road conditions that I have ever driven on. It did not take into account that this was the photo of Regina that had been tweeted from the International Space station mere moments earlier.
Now, I hesitate to tell the next part of this story, because, well, I'm not proud of it. In fact, I'm damn near ashamed. But, it was a decision I made, so I might as well accept it. You know when the roads are awful (like, the type we’ve had here the past few days…) and you see a guy that's driving way too quickly for the conditions, and you almost wish that he would hit the ditch, just to teach him a lesson? Well, on this particular night, that douche was me. On a highway with a 110 km/h posted speed limit, the conditions were so bad that no one was doing over 70. Even the big jacked up trucks with testicles hanging from the back. Every inch of exposed pavement was pure ice. But, due to a strong, relentless side wind, one that could (and would) easily unsettle any car, there was not much of this exposed pavement visable at all, as it was mostly buried under a blanket drifting snow.
This is what stood between me and destiny. And I had come much too far to give up now. I had been on the road for over eight hours at this point, and I would sooner bury my car in the ditch than have come all this way for nothing. So, I went for it. I threw caution completely (and literally) to the wind, and I went for it. I needed to stay in the 100km/h range, or I stood no chance of making it in time. I could slow to 90 when it got extra sketchy, and could squeeze 110 when it wasn't, but I needed to average triple digits. It was stupid of me. It really was. I was passing cars and trucks like they were standing still. I stopped counting the number of cars and trucks - some rolled on their sides and roofs - buried in the ditch once I ran out of fingers to count them on.
Every part of me was telling me that this was a stupid thing to be doing. But I pressed on. My death grip on the steering wheel was causing my knuckles to turn pure white and numb, aching from the constant pressure being applied to them. The car came completely loose more than once, each time causing my heart to skip a beat before sending needles of cold blood coursing through my veins. My eyes were starting to feel strained from over-use, endlessly darting around on the horizon ahead for any sign of impending danger. But the clock wouldn’t stop relentlessly ticking away - wouldn't stop counting down the minutes until I would inevitably have come a long way for nothing. So, I pressed on.
Of course, you're reading this now, so you know that I made it. It had been one of the stupidest things I've ever done, but I made it. And, I probably shouldn't admit this, but it was absolutely worth it. I burst through the front door at 6:02, collected my VIP laminate, and had my arms around both of them before you could even say ‘hover hands’. Of course, if you read about my last encounter with them, you'd know why I was perfectly happy to be at the back of the line (I felt this got me an extra minute or two of face time last time). So, when suddenly the back of the line became the front, and I was the first one up, I was thrown for a complete loop. My heart was already practically beating out of my chest from the harrowing drive over, and combined with the excitement of the moment, I was pretty frazzled.
But I like to think I did ok. I didn't swing for the fences with some obscure song request like last time (although I did almost laugh when the first thing Tegan said to me was: "Any requests for tonight?") I got a pretty awesome set of autographs (I'm not a huge autograph guy, but the idea I pitched to them was actually pretty clever, if I do say so myself). And, once again, we parted with hugs all around.
It hadn't lasted as long as my previous meet & greet, but combined with the great concert, best-in-house seats, and the swell people that I befriended along the way, like I said, in the end, every mile, dollar and even stupid risk of my very safety had easily been worth it.
(Also, there's no way of knowing for sure, but since me and the girl next to me got tired of everyone sitting down for the entire show, and decided to try and get everyone out of their seat by leading the charge, there is a 28% chance that this tweet is referring to me... )
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