Town of Kings

The last few days have been a blur. I saved about a hundred dollars off of my flight home by getting in at 1:10 am, which seemed like a good idea at the time, but less and less of one when I was on the 401 heading west at 3:23 am, knowing full well that I need to get up at 7:00 am for work. All else aside, it's good to be home.

Cameron stuck around an extra day, which gave us a chance to visit another steakhouse (Smuggler's Inn) and go to the shooting range. When in Calgary, you might as well go all out. I was amazed to see that some people bring their children to the shooting range. And these aren't teenage children - we're talking five and six year olds, here. You're never too young to learn how to fire a grenade launcher, I suppose.

Yes, they did actually have grenade launchers, albeit with plastic dummy grenades. I opted for the Russian-made AK-47 assault rifle. So this way, if I ever have to take out a building full of terrorists Die-Hard style, I'll at least know how to fire their weapons. Handy.

We never did make it to Outlaws, and opted for some less-disreputable establishments instead. We spent a lot of time at pseudo-Irish pubs that had played top 40 and had dance floors. I think the further you get from Ireland, the less an Irish pub resembles the real thing. I'd like to think that in Vancouver they have fog machines, Go-Go dancers, and spell 'Irish' with at least three e's.

Okay, 36 hours to Cuba. Time to decide on what I'm going to pack.