Niagra Falls

"When i was very young, and the urge to be someplace else was on me, I was assured by mature people that maturity would cure this itch…" - John Steinbeck

After twenty-some-odd years of itching, we're finally getting our chance to scratch. The car is packed to the ceiling, and there is barely enough room to recline the front seats. This could be a good thing, as it will prevent us from being bad passenger buddies and falling asleep on each other. I think we have everything you could possible need for a long road-trip. Thanks largely in part to the always generous and always prepared Mrs. Lacivita, we had enough supplies to drive to Chile and back....twice. We had such a variety of supplies that Jojo had been removing some from the car as her mother continued to add. I have to say, the real challenge does not lie in conquering the rugged terrain of the U.S., but in utilizing all of the supplies in our car.

So we were off, and as the overburdened back bumper of XDMLX (Mrs. Lacivita's car) goes screeching Northward up the Pennsylvania Turnpike, I can't help but think, we're gonna need a bigger boat. I also can't help but think, why the hell are we heading north???? I guess Jojo and I never really considered weather to be a factor. After the subzero winter Wildwood suffered through this year, we considered ourselves seasoned vets when it came to snow; or cold weather in general.

Regardless of route, we were ready to get this show on the road, so we did just that. Filled with lofty expectations and low-grade energy drinks, Jojo and I started North towards Niagra Falls; our jumping-off point. Had I known our Northern, French-type neighbors possessed such thorough entry procedures, Our jumping off point would have been far more…. American. Needless to say, the locals and I hit it off instantly. After my new friend Doug assured his supervisor that ALL of my cavities were "checked, cleaned, and cleared," he gave me a fake phone number, promised he'd call, then sent us waddling across the Canadian border, one can of pepper spray less than when we left. . .(he never called. just like the rest of them)

After eight hours in a car with each other and a fifteen minute, whirlwind romance with a large, Canadian Mounty named Doug, Jojo and I needed a a few stiff drinks. We booked a room at the Oaks Hotel, situated right over top of the Falls, and were surprised at how inexpensive it was. Our room on the fourteenth floor gave us panoramic view of the the landscape, and as we searched for the Falls through the massive cloud of mist that the falling water sent billowing into the sky, we began to realize why the room was so cheap: because the mist makes it nearly impossible to see the actual waterfalls. Nearly. We managed to find a small edge of the falls where the mist had retreated momentarily, and for a few, awe-struck minutes, we watched the rushing water tumble over the jagged cliffs from the comforts of our hotel room.

After a solid night's rest, we made our way down to the water's edge to get a close up view of the falls. While Jojo snapped a few hundred pictures, I closed my eyes a

nd focused on the deafening noise, trying to describe it in my head: If the earth were to unexpectedly fall out of solar rotation, the plummeting scream of it's decent through space would be the sound most comparable. Jojo, ignoring my father's advice, asked a few locals about barrel rides over the falls. It was time to go.

Quote of the day:

"I would totally be one of those people back in the day that got in

a barrel just to see what happened. Its a good thing they took the fall for me. It must have been so much fun!!!… for a few seconds anyway." - Jojo