*Warning: You may want to read this in more than one sitting.*


Cast of Characters: Yours truly, and Mr. Wonderful (abbreviated henceforth to "MW"), also MW's penis, which is a character unto itself, even if it only plays a bit part, hah.

Saturday Morning:

7:10am: Wake up, pet Sexy, and get into the shower. Get lathered up, shave my legs, and other assorted body parts, wash my hair, condition, get out of shower.

7:20am: Put my hair up in a towel, turban style. Walk around topless in my house, feeling like a movie star.

7:25am: Walk by a mirror, and no longer feel like a movie star.

7:26am: Get dressed.

7:30am: Put on make-up, blow dry hair. Feel once again like a movie star (think more Sarah Rue than Meg Ryan, though).

7:45am: Get phone call from MW. He was supposed to take a bus at 7:30, to meet me in Hfx. That bus only runs on weekdays. He is now standing outside the (locked) bus station, getting increasingly irritated that he doesn't live in Europe where, apparently, public transportation is so good it's nearly psychic. He worries that he won't make the air show, and it has now become my personal mission to make sure he makes it to the air show.

8:20am: Another phone call from MW. His initial annoyance has subsided, and he is now more rational about things. If all goes well (hello, subtle foreshadowing...), we should be able to make the last few hours of the air show.

8:45am: Give a few last pats to Sexy, grab my bag, and catch the bus to take me to the city.

11:00am: Arrive in the city. Ask when MW's bus is coming. I'm told 1:00pm. Hm. I thought it was supposed to be in by noon. My bad.

11:10am: Go buy a corkscrew at the supermarket, for the wine I brought with me, as a surprise to MW.

11:15am: Go get coffee. Sweet, sweet Tim's coffee.

11:30am: Wait around the bus station for MW. I try to read my book, but an older woman decides to talk to me. Her children are supposed to pick her up, but she doesn't know where they are. We talk about the government, the income assistance program, and how poor people are rewarded for having babies.

1:00pm: MW arrives. After a quick (but delicious) embrace, we set off to catch the ferry to Dartmouth, where our hotel is.

1:05pm: MW's complains about the long bus ride. I gently remind him that I go through it at least once or twice a month, to see him. And let's not forget the hemorrhoid-inducing, pogo-stick like bus ride between SH and Hfx.

1:10pm: Still walking. MW's is not so sure I know where I'm going. I don't either, but because this is sort of my adopted city, I feel I probably know more than he does. We continue walking, despite his constant queries of "Is this it?" "Is this it?" "Are we there yet?" "There's a boat, is that it?" I force him to keep walking, silently hoping we didn't pass it.

1:20pm: We arrive at the ferry terminal, to see a boat pulling away. We missed it, and have to wait a half hour for the next one to arrive.

1:25pm: We eat hot dogs.

1:50pm: The ferry returns. We make our way across the harbour. Time is ticking.

2:10pm: We de-boat (if people can 'de-plane', I figure you can 'de-boat', right?). We speed walk (rather, I speed walk to keep up with MW's 6"1 gait) through the terminal. I stop at the information booth and ask for directions to our hotel. I don't really listen, thinking that I know where I am going, as I had already called the hotel the day before to ask where they were. I didn't listen then, either, because, again, I thought I knew where it was.

2:15pm: We are standing at the lights. I want to go left, MW wants to go straight (or right.. just any way but my way). I tell him I know where I am going. Trust me, baby.

2:25pm: The sun is beating down on us, and we are both carrying pretty heavy bags (though I contend that, at this point, my bag is heavier, as I was carrying a pint of rum and a bottle of wine in mine). MW continues to question my navigation skills. "It's just up this hill, I promise."
The "hill" is a 85 degree incline, which, I must say, isn't very fun when you are hot, sweaty, weighed down with liquor, and full of hot dog. As we ascend, I see "Holiday Inn." We have reservations at Howard Johnsons.

2:35pm: Even though I know we are staying at HoJo's, my confidence is unwavering. "Right this way". I am so blinded by my mission to make sure he makes it to the air show, that I cannot entertain the notion that I may be wrong, and hence waste precious time traipsing around the streets of downtown Dartmouth.

2:40pm: Near the top of the hill, sweaty and hot, I ask a passerby if there is a HoJo's ahead. He looks at me as if I have just sprouted gills and says, "No, but there's a Holiday Inn". Damnit.

2:45pm: We make our way back down the hill, to retrace our steps. From the corner of my eye, I see MW shaking his head in disbelief, frustration, or homicidal rage. I apologize. He says it's not my fault, but it so is. Yet, I am steadfast in my aim that he makes it to the air show.

3:00pm. We get to the hotel. We check in. It's not the nicest room I've ever been in, but it's got a balcony and a kitchenette. I change, quickly, out of my sweaty clothes and MW calls a cab to take us to to where the shuttle will take us to the air show. Huzzah!

3:05pm: We get into the cab. The driver is sort of weird at first, but we soon strike up a conversation centering around French in New Brunswick. I explain I am Acadian, but do not speak French (at least, I don't speak French well), and that MW is not Acadian, but is French. I also learn, for the first time, surprisingly, that a rough English translation of his name is Stephen King. I am tickled by this discovery, and am disappointed in myself for never noticing it before, having grown up in a house saturated by King's writings.

3:10pm: We get to the shuttle point. There is a man with two children there, who asks us if we are going to the air show. He tells us there is was an accident on the highway, and that the next shuttle will only be around in an hour and a half, at least (the shuttles are supposed to come by every 15 minutes).

3:15pm: An odd mix of rage, disbelief, and silliness sets in. We decide to call it off, then decide to go back to make sure we heard correctly. We leave again, deciding it just wasn't meant to be. We decide to go into the mall, buy some food for the evening, possibly go to Chapters, and then head back home.

4:00pm: After searching the mall for a grocery store, we discover there is none. Who the fuck builds a mall without a grocery store?? We ask around, and there is a grocery store near our hotel: above the hill. A very nice woman gave us her bus schedule, and we plan our escape from the Mall With No Grocery Store.

4:10pm: We wait for the bus. We see a bat. The guy standing next to me is a little weird, in a Comic Book Guy sort of way (but skinnier). I notice that he just bought a box full of knives, and I make a joke of it. He says "I will kill you last because you were nice to me". I slide closer to MW.

4:15pm: We catch the bus and head back to where we were. Back up The Hill.

4:30pm: We search for the store. MW continues (rightly so, at this point) to doubt my sense of direction. I'm almost positive now I know where it is. We continue walking.

4:40pm: Joy of joys! We found it! It is the most dilapidated, sad looking store I've ever seen, besides the 2 grocery stores in SH. We buy supper for the evening, some supplies to make sandwiches for the air show tomorrow, and some mix for the rum I brought with me.

5:00pm: Back down the hill. Back to the hotel. We eat supper with a Chuck Norris movie in the background. After a day of trying to catch a variety of modes of transportation (bus, ferry, other busses), we both accept the fate that we will not make the air show. At least, not today.

6:00pm: The good thing about hotels is that there is limited seating. Suddenly, the bed becomes the center of attention, no matter what activity you are engaging in. The bed becomes a.... flat couch, and we snuggle and cuddle on it while watching..... Chuck Norris. MW plays with.... all the parts of me he likes to play with.

7:00pm: MW fixes drinks for the both of us. He always makes them too strong for my tastes, but after the first few, I don't seem to notice anymore.

8:00pm: We continue watching TV, and I decide to go take a shower, now with a slight buzz on. The sun is setting, and I'm feeling good.

8:15pm: Out of the shower, I feel clean, refreshed, and in need of more alcohol.

8:20pm: MW obliges me, and makes another drink. Mm. Yummy.

** At this point, things start to get a little fuzzy. All times are approximate.**

8:50pm: It is MW's turn at the shower. I spend this few minutes on the bed, arranging myself to look as sexy as possible upon his return from the shower, in between sips of my rum & coke, of course.

9:00pm: MW emerges, triumphantly, from the shower, absolutely buck naked. All attempts at sexiness aside, I break up into a fit of laughter. It's not that MW has a funny-looking naked body. In fact, I love seeing him naked. Only, he is so..... exuberant when he's naked that it always surprises me and makes giggle. For being so comfortable with my sexuality, I am decidedly not comfortable walking around naked. I can be naked while relatively stationary (as anyone who attended my university days-inspired Naked Parties can attest to), while sitting, laying down, even standing, but mobile nakedness is not something I have yet to sink my teeth into.

9:15pm: MW decides it is to prepare the sandwiches for the following day. In between sips of R&C, and glimpses of Seinfeld and The Apprentice, I look over to see the most loveliest bum in the world swishing, and swaying with the effort of making 6 mini-subs. Ever time I look over, I crack up laughing. I resist the urge to get up off the bed and make any, you know, sudden movements, if youknowwhatImean. If I've learned anything over the last year, I've learned that patience is a virtue.

9:30pm: Sandwiches finished, and MW continues to make more drinks. It tastes like water now, and I'm realizing that I am quickly becoming drunk.

10:00pm: We get ready for bed, and set both the room alarm clock, and the alarm on MW's cell phone. I complain when he sets it for 7am.

10:30pm: The lights are out, and all systems are go. I'm drunk, and looking for action. For the life of me, I wish I could remember some of the details of what transpired, save for the basic sexual acts performed. Needless to say, though, that a good time was had by all. At least, by me, anyway. I do remember that. I had a very good time. Yes, indeed.

11:30pm: The last thing I remember saying is "I think I'm drunk", before falling asleep in MW's arms.


Sunday:

6:00am: I wake up feeling like arse. I make my wobbly way to the bathroom. I go back to bed.

8:00am: MW changed the alarm to 8:00am. I love him.

8:15am: I also love morning wood. As someone who only had sex under the cover of darkness until at least a few years ago (not by choice, just not particularly exciting partners), I have come to appreciate morning sex. Things just seem to be more.... physical. Your mind is still lazy, and your motions are more fluid. You have yet to think about all the stuff you need to do for the day, and there is no need to analyze words or actions. Your body is finished repairing itself from the day before, and all the juices are flowing to all the right parts. It's like concentrated Springtime. I feel dreamy and sexy, relaxed and happy. I love to feel that familiar poking in the small of my back, or the straining tent pole under the covers. It instantaneously makes me feel like the most beautiful person in the world, wanted, desired.

8:45am: A good time was had by all, again.

9:00am: We watch a show on cognac, and wonder why it is on at 9:00am on a Sunday morning.

9:30am: We are off to the shuttle point again. This time, the busses are going on time, and we seat ourselves, and our backpacks on the bus. Hooray. This are starting to look up.

10:30am: We arrive at the air show, and.... air show stuff happens. MW is incredibly knowledgeable on the subject, and explains everything to me when I ask him annoying questions like "what's this?" or "what does this do?". We watched the Blue Angels perform, and MW's narration was much better than the American narrator. Although the accompanying music was good, it was a little... Cheesy. Selections included "Hero" and "Seven Nation Army". Ugh.

2:30pm: We realize that we have to somehow catch our bus back to Mctn. After some researching, we manage to get a shuttle back to the airport terminal to catch our bus. We watch the rest of the air show from there, and wait for the bus to arrive.

4:30pm: We wait at the wrong place for the bus and nearly miss it. MW runs ahead of me and catches it, with plenty of time to spare. We get on the bus, only to have to sit in different seats. I am, to my surprise, rather upset by this. I was looking forward to falling asleep on MW's shoulder. Instead, I spent the trip with the sun in my eyes, trying not to fall asleep on top of the person sitting next to me. I thought about it, and realized that whenever I take this bus, on my many trips to and from home, I always wish that MW was there with me, for company, for a shoulder to sleep on, or just to share the experience with. It's something I always dream about on the bus, and I was angry that I could not experience it outside my day dreams. Besides that, I was hot, sweaty, sunburned, hungry, and tired.

8:00pm: We arrive home. I spring for supper at our 'favorite' local diner, because I cannot possibly eat another naked mini-sub. Though quite delicious (Tahini on a sub! Whouda thunk?), 2 subs were my daily limit.

9:30pm: With my newfound interest in aviation, we planned to watch Top Gun, and perhaps drink some wine.

9:40pm: MW has falls asleep. I wake him up, and he goes to take a shower. I decide against taking a shower, thinking that if I stink, no one will want to sit with me on the bus back to SH.

10:00pm: MW returns, and we both fall asleep. I snore, keep him awake. Then, he snores, waking me up.

Monday morning, we wake up. I see a hint of morning wood, but unfortunately, I have a bus to catch, again.