BAD TATTOOS

“Rain” is the watchword and I haven’t seen a forecast so, I’ll just keep bumping along; no particular hurry. It’s nice being back in Canada. You forget; take things for granted and then everything changes. You stray outside your comfort zone and the stretch is immediate. My cell phone won’t work again until Alaska and I trust Tim Horton’s (Canada equivalent to Mc’D) for a wi-fi connection and affordable coffee. 

There are more Native people, out and about here; at least I notice them. I knew that but then you get used to something else and it’s deja vu, all over again. The two things I remember best about our northern neighbors is their obvious sense of civility and incredibly bad tattoos. If USA is the land of free & brave, then Canada is about a razor balance between acceptance and accountability. I’ve said before that had my parents birthed me north of the border, I’d have turned out a better Canadian than I have an American.

I remember a disparaging comment on one’s appearance that goes back to my military days. It goes; “. . . looks like they were shot at and missed an’ ‘sh. .’ at and hit.“ Here I would say the tattoo is the “sh. . ‘ that wouldn’t clean up. Really, really bad.  No rhyme, no reason, just random compulsion and bad taste. I like body art and those works that look like they took root and grew there naturally; I’m an admirer. The question is, how many more ugly tat’s will I see before I get a look at the bad tattoos of Alaska, the second most bad place for bad tattoos. 

I’m in limbo for a few hours. I need to find a phone where I can call Michigan and get my Credit Union to take the hold off my credit cards. They balked yesterday, (Sunday) when I tried to get gasoline in Calgary. So I’m just south of Edmonton, low on cash and none of my credit cards will pass muster. Should have made the call on Friday but I was killing time in the rain at Little Bighorn and it slipped my mind. I have friends who think my adventures are all fun and games and I try to tell them that it’s as much anxiety & bad road as it is grins but they don’t want to hear that. I suspect I have some deep seeded neuroses. I’m afraid I’ll wake up one day, like the tattoo drones and the life I take for granted is the only one I know. Photo is a sunny day in South Dakota. There was another one at Little Bighorn but I’m back to searching for, El Sol.