Come with me to Quebec, part 2.

The prescription I was given came with explicit instructions to drinks loads of water to clear my UTI. And loads of water did I drink!

That made our city tour bus ride to “Old Town” interesting. I anticipated a sandwich shop and a lake and “plenty of opportunities to hop on and off”. None of that fantasy materialized.

At 8:30 am on day 3 of Canadian hell, we all lined up outside the ski lodge on a drippy dreary cold day for our bus tour. We all shuffled into the chartered tour bus idling at the hotel curb like Jews leaving the ghettos of Germany for Auschwitz .

This wasn't your typical get on/get off double decker city tour bus you might use in an actual city you were touring. Instead, we had a dimly lit enormous charter bus with velvet red seats that looked like they'd seen some things. The type of charter bus that senior citizens from nursing homes, dragging oxygen tanks , take when they travel in mobs to casinos. Or like the charter busses you sometimes hear about crashing on interstate 95 along the eastern shore dooming all passengers aboard it.

As we all shuffled to our seats filling the entire bus up one by one; a bus with windows that didn't open, our attention was placed on our tour guide; a born and raised Mont Tremblandt man who had the gift of speaking both French and English. He looked like some of the snowboard hippies from the nineties that I used to hang with that remained in the lifestyle. He had to be about my age. He didn't believe in haircuts or hygiene. Like someone that might be ripe pickings for one of those makeover shows. As a bonus, he came with a terrible head cold and spoke loudly enough, without a microphone , that we could all hear him well enough and also get COVID in the process. Most of us tried to keep our distance from him. I really felt compassion for the people sitting in the first four rows in front of him, watching them in horror as he rattled off Mont Tremblant facts while simultaneously casting water droplets in their direction turning his head from side to side making sure the people even in the back of the ginormous tour bus could hear him properly.

We drove for a good two hours listening to tales from his childhood while he narrated the places we were passing by. Place like “Devils River”. “Fitting name for this place I muttered to myself after trying to refrain for an hour or so from yelling “is this bus ever going to stop at a bathroom or what?!?!?!” The liter of water i’d drunk was now ready to leave my body. I held it and held it until I thought I might die and pee myself.

And then thirty minutes after that, we pulled the tour bus into a park. No one was there, it was cold and dismal and rainy…we drove for miles and miles alongside a winding part of devil river hearing about how majestic and fun this park was. The park without a person in sight. We were headed to “the lake”, the one the concierge said we'd stop at that “wasn't much to look at”. I was more interested in what the bathrooms looked like anyways.

The tour guide asked the gatekeeper of the park if the bathrooms were even open with no visitors there. He assured him they were. The bus finally came to rest on a dirt puddly parking lot in front of a large wooden welcome center, with other smaller buildings littered behind it. The tour guide with the massive head cold made an announcement: “For those of you who would like to use the restrooms, the bathrooms are located in this building and I've been assured they are open”. I was so relieved I almost cried.

I was tripping over people, elbowing my way through the crowd of business owners and business professionals to get out ahead of them in the event it was a one stall bathroom. It didn't matter if they were old or handicapped in that moment, they were merely objects in my way.

That left them all following in my wake. I quickly arrived at the front door of the welcome center and reached out to open it. It was locked. I did not feel welcomed. I quickly walked around the perimeter of the building to the next door. It was also locked. The professional upstanding people in khaki pants and business coats still following my lead looking for direction and asking what we should do. I found a third door, it was unlocked. Inside were two employees who told me there was no bathroom there , then pointed us yet to another door at the back of the same building assuring us we would find a bathroom there.

I led this now frantic trail of professionals to yet another locked door. At this point I felt a responsibility to them. I was the captain of a ship looking for port after days at sea through stormy gales , death and sickness, only to be turned away at every port with a crew whose life was now in my hands.

I saw another glass door, it was locked, but I could see the employees through the glass. I frantically banged on the glass to get their attention.

“Bathrooms??? Lavertorie?!?! “ is that even French for bathroom? I didn't know. They pointed us to another building 200 feet away. We all scuffled over to the next building with me, the captain, leading the charge where we found…..if you could only guess …….the door.was..LOCKED.

It was at that moment that I decided to scale a small wooden fence , asking two of the professional ones to spot for me. They were my first and second mate in the trail of professionals I was leading so it made the most sense.

“Fellas, this is the end for me…I'm so sorry I let you down, I never should have made myself captain. Now, I’m about to drop my trousers and pee in this majestic park , think you could cover for me?” They both agreed and stood watch, their backs towards me. I scurried off behind the building, dropped my pants and peed , praying to God that I wouldn't be arrested for public urination in a foreign country. That was the point when I noticed the true beauty of the park. I was in a moss patch surrounded by small evergreens…and you know what? It really was something special.

I pulled my pants up and headed over to the lake on the other side of the bus where the other group of professionals from the bus were standing staring unenthusiastically at a pond when Jeff walked out of a porta potty a mere 40 feet away towards me. “Did you find the bathroom?” He asked. “ you don't even want to know” I muttered. “There's one right here we've all been using”. I could have strangled him.

Gosh, I still haven't explained how I mooned the Frenchman and his kid. I guess there's a part 3 on the horizon.