My assistant, Joanne, was tasked with finding me a pet friendly hotel room hopefully with a sauna, in Campbell River. Laura, Gilbert and I had decided on a getaway months back but only confirmed it this week. I had the time booked off, work being so demanding and breaks being essential to staying healthy in face of all the ill health that comes with the trade, but only barely tore myself away leaving skin and bits of flesh at the last minute. Laura's superiors were away so she just 'emailed" them. Gilbert packed up his toys, sweaters and food and told the cat to manage on her own.
It was a mad dash for the Horseshoe Bay Ferry. Working, last minute, calls, an excess of faxes and emails, collecting clothes, a trip to the storage locker and finally making it to the terminal an hour before last sailing. I was told then that I couldn't have an extra jerry can in the truck. There was no where to dispose of the extra jerry can. Now one lovely woman working for BC ferries and her younger compatriot tried to offer a solution suggesting I fill the extra jerry can with water. However it was half full with gas already The older male, his mind clearly demented by year of beaurocratic service, kept telling me I couldn't take the jerry can with me and denying me the ability to despose of it all the while taking great 'little man' delight in my 'catch 22' experience. Finally a fellow worker suggested that I could fill the jerry can and the truck behind me was more than happy to carry it as there's.
All this seems a minor glych in the trip but was a typical example of how minds ruled by 'protocols' and 'laws' couldn't possilby find their ass even if both hands were attached to it. The majority of those present took no pleasure in my poor plight and came en mass to my assistance giving me great hope for life on earth despite the monster machine absorbing weak minds at an apparently increasing rate.
The ferry itself was a joy. White spot fries are unbeatable. The burger was scrumptuous. A moon came down out of the sky and followed the great ship in it's wake. Before we knew it we were at Nanaimo, a city I've grown to admire more and more each year.
We travelled up the new highway at 110 km hour until we reached Campbell River. Thats when I realized Ocean Resort isn't in Campbell River as advertised. Downtown Campbell River is 20 miles north of Oyster Bay. Ocean Resort is across the road from Oyster Bay Resorts.
We travelled back 20 miles along the ocean front road, island highway, so that Laura could have that experience women just live for," pissed off man, driving truck, late at night, cursing."
Thank God, Ocean Resort was spectacular. If it hadn't been I might well have driven threw it with the Ford F350. Unfortunately the Resort has 'namaste' written on the door. Namaste means "The God in me salutels the God in you'. It being late, I couldn't come up with an equivalent sanskrit saying "The Devil in me pisses on the Devil in you". The resort was so peaceful with the sound of lapping water that it was increasingly hard for me to nurse on the tit of resentment.
Ocean Resourt advertises itself as a peaceful healing spa and retreat. Even if the people don't know where they are located they are at peace. When I had my guns out of the truck and into the room that others have obviously meditated long hours in I was more than ready for the Sauna.
I couldn't find the sauna but found the hot tub room locked.
That's when I found out that all the 'peacefully healling" facilities were closed after 9 oclock . We arrived at 9:15. A helpful note suggested that the steam rooms and such could be opened for later but that arrangement had to be made with the front desk. The front desk had noted that they left at 8 pm. So I was left standing in my robe and slippers in the hall , meditating. The 'peaceful easy feeling' business isn't up to 24 hours a day. Which probably explains why people like me who come from 24/7 cities can get 'peace' from smart people like them in the country who tell people lime to 'f' off', but in a nice pc California west coast way, so they can be rested up and peaceful during the day. I can't imagine anyone working here having had any days like I did that day.
Struggling to hold onto the tit of resentment despite the incredibly elegant and peaceful surroundings, I came back and told Laura that the note had been for an 'ocean view' room. Instead, we were looking at my truck in the parking lot. Laura, not being at all helpful, said "You always prefer to be in rooms where you can watch your truck. We can't see the ocean in the dark, anyway." Gilbert took Laura's side as usual. So feeling ganged up on I pouted.
Thankfully the television had a thousand channels. I found the Mentallist. In addition the owners had left drinks and such in the hallway with , imagine, an honor system for paying $2 for diet soft drinks, juices and granola bars. The whole fridge was full and I had just come from downtown eastside Vancouver and had an empty duffle bag in my room.
Beside the fridge they had cards offering massage, reiki, reflexology and all manner of peace inducing activities. None were on an emergency basis. There was no 'on call' reiki master, either. Gilbert, Laura and I made do with diet coke, ginger bread men and the "Mentalist" on tv. I wrote down what I'd taken from the refridgerator just to humor them.
The room itself reminded Laura and I of the rooms we had in Milan. Just lovely. The bed was unbelievably comfortable. It was attached to the floor and I considered in the morning getting an axe from the truck but by then there was a guard at the front desk, meditating
A whole room of healing books and crystals , couches and computer consoles was now unlocked and open to the public suggesting that while management trusted guests such as me with juices they were more circumspect with high tech internet consoles.
Gilbert and I walked all over the simply beautiful grounds. We even did a stroll on the drift wood strewn beach. Laura meanwhile spent hours and days in the bath luxuriating in the spiritual atmosphere of the place. Eventually she came out smelling fragrantly and I was able to get in and have a dump.
Given how Laura can literally lap up spa experiences and my obvious need for them it was all we could do to pull ourselves away from what was obviously meant for city folk such as us needing to reconnect spiritually and emotionally with our inner holiness.
Gilbert however had other plans and herded us out to the truck so we could go north to where flannel shirts were de rigour and an elk was waiting to sacrifice herself for her loved human and canine planetary fellow beings. Namaste.