by bill - 1989-09-05 23:00:00 ( in life, travel, canada) [php version]
(September, 1989) - Bill returned from his trip to eastern Canada a few weeks back. He was supposed to seek out and capture "Wild Man" Doug. Remember? Well, he's back. Bill, that is. When asked to report his findings, however, Bill said, "What? You never said anything about finding anyone!"
Well, there you have it. Another in-depth report from the Newsletter news team. Fortunately, the Newsletter, predicting such a "report", sent a private investigator out after Bill. And here is his report:
Doug meets Bill at Burlington (VT) Airport. They greet each other brotherly-like, then leave airport together. It takes them 27 seconds to get from Gate 4 to the airport parking lot, the airport is that big. They spend the night in Doug's camper in a shopping center parking lot.
They do a little shopping, then head north.
They cross the Canadian-American border (is there any other Canadian border?). Doug's camper is searched while Doug and Bill are held for questioning. The border guard has trouble believing Doug and Bill do what they do for a living, but finally lets them go with a warning.
Doug kills bird on highway. He could have swerved, but no. He aimed for it! Then he stopped, turned around, and picked it up while Bill took pictures!
The murderers drove to the city of Quebec that night and spent most of their time pretending to be innocent tourists. You know, buying shirts, flirting with girls, stuff like that.
Doug attends the Changing of the Guard at Quebec's Citadel, while Bill spends his time wandering around the Citadel, apparently trying to find a way of getting in for free. He never does.
Doug and Bill meet up again and spend the rest of the day looking through gift shops, taking pictures (well, Doug takes pictures, lots of pictures), etc.
They head east toward New Brunswick and spend the night in the middle of nowhere.
Doug wakes up feeling sick to his stomach, so Bill drives.
They go to a national park called Kouchibouguac. Don't ask me to pronounce it. There's a beach at this park. Bill wades in a ways then wimps out. Too cold, he says.
Meanwhile, Doug can be found wandering around the nearby swamps frog-gigging and taking pictures.
Then they head east to Nova Scotia.
Doug spends about an hour wandering through a cemetery in Halifax with a shovel and a camera! Bill runs away screaming.
Found Bill walking around in a daze in an indoor mall.
Eventually, they leave Halifax and drive to another national park with a weird name: Kejimkujik.
Lost them when they take off in a canoe in the wilds of Kejimkujik. Kept an eye on their parked truck. It didn't do anything for three days.
Found Bill hiking back to the truck without Doug. All he has is his outback hat, his brand-new boots and a canteen (and his clothes, of course). He looks thinner and unshaven. His boots are dirty.
He gets into truck and drives away. Meets Doug where he was waiting with the canoe and all the equipment.
They leave Kejimkujik and drive to the western-most edge of Nova Scotia to a town called Digby.
Doug drops Bill off and heads north, saying something about Cape Breton, Nova Scotia.
Bill catches a ferryboat headed for Saint John, New Brunswick.
I follow Bill.
Bill gets off ferryboat at Saint John and catches a cab to a motel for the night.
Bill spends most of next day wandering around Saint John, apparently waiting for the bus to Bangor, Maine to arrive.
Bus finally arrives at 3:46 p.m. Bill gets on. Bus leaves at 3:59 p.m.
Bus arrives in Bangor, Maine at 8:34 p.m., local time. Bill was supposed to get off here, but he doesn't, obviously trying to lose me. He enters bus station and pays additional fare to take him to Boston.
Bus arrives in Boston at 2:30 a.m., local time. Bill makes a couple phone calls. Finally, catches a cab to Logan Airport.
Bill makes more calls at the airport. Tries to sleep on couch in airport. Can't.
At exactly 5:45 a.m., he takes his place in line at the ticket counter. Gets his ticket. Wanders around airport some more.
Then he does something strange. He puts his bags in a locker and starts asking where the control tower is. (If he has a bomb, it's an awfully small one.)
He follows the directions to the tower. But when he gets there, he can't get in. The doors are locked. It's too early in the morning.
He walks back to Gate 34C, buys a paper, waits around, then at exactly 7:31 a.m. boards United Flight 91 to Los Angeles. From Los Angeles, he catches a connecting flight to Oakland.
similar posts here ... and elsewhere
Comments (We enjoy free speech. Try not to offend, but feel free to be offended.)
Leave your own comment:
post_ID = 69