Tales from The Hip: Nautical Disaster
I haven't been to the United States since June 21, 2002.
If that seems like an odd date to remember, don't worry; I had to look it up. That was the day that The Tragically Hip celebrated the recently released In Violet Light by playing a show on Lake Champlain, just off the coast of Burlington, Vermont. On a ferry; cool, right? I know this, because I had tickets to see it.
Not that I expected I'd actually get the chance; a week or so earlier, I'd entered a contest on their website, in which they were giving away tickets to a series of shows, none quite as close to home as the Vermont show. So, on a whim, I entered my name into the draw for that show.
Cut to Friday, June 21. I arrived for work at 10AM, and started to sort through my show prep (I was working at the local radio station at this time). I booted up the music room's computer, and decided to check my e-mail. Lo and behold, there's one from The Hip, telling me I'd been selected for the contest. The instructions were clear: there are tickets waiting at this location, and at 7PM the boat is leaving, so don't be late.
Problem was, I didn't expect to win, so I hadn't planned this out at all. I was scheduled to work, and my wife was already at her job. Frantically, I arranged for my shift to be covered, and called my wife's work to see if there was any way she could get out of it. The stars aligned, and within an hour or so we were free to make our run for the border.
The drive wasn't terribly eventful, although I do remember a few moments pretty clearly:
a) Almost not being allowed into the U.S. Being mere months after 9/11, I can understand security being tightened, but if I hadn't had the foresight to print out my confirmation e-mail, there's a chance I may have been denied entry. As it was, I had to explain to the border guard exactly who The Tragically Hip were and why gaining access to the States was so important to me. After a few minutes of conversation, we were finally given the go-ahead.
b) Somewhere in Maine, I got the idea of turning off the interstate and hitting a smaller highway that cut across the state in an effort to save time. About a half hour into the detour, we hit construction. Also, I'm pretty sure at one point we also hit a turtle.
c) As we crossed into New Hampshire, the map was consulted, at which point we realized we had about an hour left to make a two hour drive. We were literally going to miss the boat.
I don't know if words can adequately express what happened to my heart when the foul weight of reality hit it, but it sunk pretty low in that moment. As we drove past Santa's Village, I knew the gig was up; I stopped the car at a gas station in Jefferson, filled the tank and, a few miles further down the road, we turned off Highway 2 westbound onto Highway 3 northbound. As darkness fell, we crossed into East Hereford, Quebec, and drove straight home through the night. All told, we spent about twenty hours on the road, and all we had to show for it was a printed out e-mail congratulating me on a prize I never got to redeem.
Well, that and a story, I suppose.
If that seems like an odd date to remember, don't worry; I had to look it up. That was the day that The Tragically Hip celebrated the recently released In Violet Light by playing a show on Lake Champlain, just off the coast of Burlington, Vermont. On a ferry; cool, right? I know this, because I had tickets to see it.
Not that I expected I'd actually get the chance; a week or so earlier, I'd entered a contest on their website, in which they were giving away tickets to a series of shows, none quite as close to home as the Vermont show. So, on a whim, I entered my name into the draw for that show.
Cut to Friday, June 21. I arrived for work at 10AM, and started to sort through my show prep (I was working at the local radio station at this time). I booted up the music room's computer, and decided to check my e-mail. Lo and behold, there's one from The Hip, telling me I'd been selected for the contest. The instructions were clear: there are tickets waiting at this location, and at 7PM the boat is leaving, so don't be late.
Problem was, I didn't expect to win, so I hadn't planned this out at all. I was scheduled to work, and my wife was already at her job. Frantically, I arranged for my shift to be covered, and called my wife's work to see if there was any way she could get out of it. The stars aligned, and within an hour or so we were free to make our run for the border.
The drive wasn't terribly eventful, although I do remember a few moments pretty clearly:
a) Almost not being allowed into the U.S. Being mere months after 9/11, I can understand security being tightened, but if I hadn't had the foresight to print out my confirmation e-mail, there's a chance I may have been denied entry. As it was, I had to explain to the border guard exactly who The Tragically Hip were and why gaining access to the States was so important to me. After a few minutes of conversation, we were finally given the go-ahead.
b) Somewhere in Maine, I got the idea of turning off the interstate and hitting a smaller highway that cut across the state in an effort to save time. About a half hour into the detour, we hit construction. Also, I'm pretty sure at one point we also hit a turtle.
c) As we crossed into New Hampshire, the map was consulted, at which point we realized we had about an hour left to make a two hour drive. We were literally going to miss the boat.
I don't know if words can adequately express what happened to my heart when the foul weight of reality hit it, but it sunk pretty low in that moment. As we drove past Santa's Village, I knew the gig was up; I stopped the car at a gas station in Jefferson, filled the tank and, a few miles further down the road, we turned off Highway 2 westbound onto Highway 3 northbound. As darkness fell, we crossed into East Hereford, Quebec, and drove straight home through the night. All told, we spent about twenty hours on the road, and all we had to show for it was a printed out e-mail congratulating me on a prize I never got to redeem.
Well, that and a story, I suppose.
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