Many rivers to cross

I just poured orange juice all over my hand. Then it dripped on the dog. It was a mess.

Explaining how I poured orange juice on my hand wouldn’t be very interesting, so I’ll just leave it at that. Whatever you’re imagining is better than reality. You can say that about pretty much anything, and it will be true.

But the orange juice got me thinking of this time Carol and I were in Canada hanging around Niagara falls, and went to a Denny’s for some greasy breakfast potatoes and coffee. I ordered a glass of orange juice and it was $4 for a small 8 ounce glass.

I half-joked to the waitress, “Four dollars for orange juice?! How dare you gouge innocent visitors from other countries this way!”

“Oh, it’s not just us, orange juice is expensive everywhere in Canada.”

And I was thinking, “Damn it, I come from California! Where orange juice flows in rivers down the thoroughfares! I could have brought along a 55 gallon drum of orange juice and used it to finance the entire trip!”

orangetreeBut then it occurred to me that we hardly grow any oranges in Southern California anymore, so I should just shut up and drink the weak, bitter juice, eat the dry toast, shovel down the weird, tasteless potatoes and get back out into the flow of tourism. The economy needed me, and I rose to the occasion with bold American enthusiasm.

Niagara Falls, by the way, is a pretty fucking incredible thing. Eight wonders of the world and all that. And they have a Ripley’s Believe it or Not museum there if you get tired of staring into the water for hours, thinking about jumping.

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