UHTC are flying to Regina today as a whole unit, and as alluded to in a previous travel day’s entry, I shan’t elaborate finely on the process. I left my hotel room in Winnipeg at 11.40am — we are travelling west to such a degree that we must wind our watches back one hour, so for the sake of clarity, we’ll agree that I left the room at 10.40am.
At 12.43pm I opened the aircraft cabin window shade to a vista of snowy squares, patches of flat land punctuated and discernible by salted grey asphalt. The land rose to meet us and a few minutes later we taxied along the runway. Belfast’s City and London’s Heathrow airports have rabbits; our Regina airstrip is home to what I assume are prairie dogs. While the plane trundled over tarmac to meet a waiting coach, a delightful little prairie dog scurried in the grass alongside to my right, as if challenging us to a race. We have a plane, loser.
When we alighted the winning plane and boarded the coach, it became apparent the second vehicle, dutied with collecting the luggage, was in fact a passenger van, and could not hold all the bags. At the request of Production Manager Dave, a bunch of us volunteered to transfer the bags from the plane to the belly of the coach. So many volunteered that it was almost impossible to help valiantly. I carried one bag and that was it. ‘Screw this, I’m gonna take pictures,’ was my helpful thought. We had crowded to a degree so ‘helpful’ around the luggage belt-machine-vehicle-thing, that we ignorantly pushed the insistent ground crewman further up the belt until the poor fellow had nowhere further to go. Honestly, it becomes rather absurd; why can’t we let the bags travel down to the edge of the belt? Just take them off there instead of edging the guy, who’s just trying to do his job, further up to where it’s obviously more difficult to lift heavy bags. There exists among us a thing like good-natured gallantry, but not very well practised.
By 1.30pm we made the hotel; many of us had rooms ready, some had to wait. This flying-between-gigs thing is still a novelty; I think it’s pretty cool that in under three hours I was out my room in Winnipeg, and into a room in Regina.
Last time we visited Regina it was clouded in an invisible, depressing cold. Walking on compacted snow was difficult and nostril-hairs stiffened in the tundraic breeze, but today you could wear shorts and not get beaten up. Not only do we find ourselves in a different time zone, we seem to be in a season-zone as well; I guess Regina has spring a month late. Despite the sunny sky and warm air, pepper-black snow-mounds litter every home’s front yard; the once-winter-wonderland looks like the kind of place you’d hear mothers screaming at their children, ‘Get away from that snow, you’ll catch typhus!’
I didn’t do much once settled today, but I did get a message on Tumblr which led to something rather fantastic. You must first acquaint, or reacquaint yourself with The Mamas & the Papas’ song Creeque Alley:
Once you’ve digested that, visit Cass‘ (no, not M&P’s Cass) blogpost; she’s written a version mentioning as many UHTC characters as she could before going crazy (I would have gone insanoid at three or four). I thought it was a very cool and bright idea and would like to thank her for taking the time:
“Why can’t youz all be more like your sister Cass?! Ah, what’s the use, you’re all gonna get typhus anyway…”
That’s (more than) enough from me; as Dave Allen used to say, thank you, good night, and may your god go with you.