If it's Monday, I must be in Williams Lake, British Columbia.
Today's business trip has taken my boss William and I deep into the heart of "Cariboo Country" - a patchwork of a region stitched together from three very distinct BC areas: The Cariboo (middle of BC, and east towards the Rockies), Chilcotin (more central) and Coast (a tiny snippet of seawall out west that encompasses islands you can only get to by ferry, floatplane or packmule. Okay, that last one I made up). Williams Lake is in the Cariboo part of CCC, accessed by us via 20-seater prop-plane.
Unlike other regions in BC, this one stretches sort of sideways. Williams Lake is the sort of place where they sell guns and saddles in shops. They have a history of gold panning. Our "Overlander Hotel" overlooks the mills and about 80 billion logs. The universal uniform is jeans and a baseball/cowboy hat. At 15,000 people, this is a big town. But the folks here sure are friendly...
...take, for example, the guy William and I met today. Let's call him "Crazy Redneck".
Following our entertaining meeting with the CCC regional team, William and I sat chatting outside the hotel, which comes conveniently with an attached restaurant, Carmen's, and a "Cold Beer and Wine Store".
A truck pulls up and out staggers a 30-something guy, reeking of beer and carrying two un-sheathed, evil-looking hunting knives, a grindstone and a bag of dark somethings. It's 2.3opm. He mumbles: "Yup, cigarette. Good idea" and then sits down on the bench and proceeds to burble at us. He's absolutely, unapologetically wankered. He does not care for our silly big-city "debriefing" bollocks. He wants to chat and slump at us.
And he's got two knives, so he wins.
He mumbles something about being on time. "To do what?" I ask. Of course, it's a TREMENDOUS idea to engage a pissed-up redneck with two knives in a full conversation.
"Whatever Pat tells me to do," he says.
"Who's Pat?" I ask.
"You don't know Pat?" he shoots back, disgusted.
"Erm, no, we just got here. We're tourists". William and I point to our suitcases, which we're not sure he's acknowledged. Along with the date, the year, his name or anything else that might be pertinent.
"Oh," he snorts, and seems tickled by this. "I thought you guys worked here. It's my first day,"
"Doing what?"
"I'm the chef at the restaurant. I cook stuff".
OF COURSE YOU ARE, we think, and make a mental note not to eat at Carmen's. EVER.
"That's why I have this," he sort of slumps towards a large ziplock bag.
"What are they? Dried mushrooms?"
"Chipotles"
"Ah, of course."
"Yeah, my buddy just sent me 1200 lbs of them from Chiapas"
"1200lbs?"
"He owed me money so he paid me in chillies."
OF COURSE HE DID.
"So you now have 1200 lbs in your one-bedroom apartment?" William jokes.
He laughs. "Yeah, well, sort of."
"So what's your specialty? What sort of food do you like to cook?"
"Ummm, I really like doing Japanese and German stuff."
OF COURSE YOU DO.
William and I ate at Denny's instead.
Admittedly, the potential chipotle-sashimi-bratwurst special could have been enticing. But I have to live long enough to get the hell out of here. ;-)))
2 comments:
Wow. That's an awesome story. I see a CBC TV show entitled "Carmen's" in the future starring that dude. Like Northern Exposure, but instead of beginning the show with a doctor setting up shop in remote Alaska, you begin the show with that dude on his first day of work. The show's theme song? Born Slippy, specifically the "Lager, logger, lager, logger..." refrain.
LOL. Awesome. You should have seen the guy. William and I dined off the chipotles reference a few times that day and on ward. Very funny to meet characters like this. And ones who don't kill you with their knives and then cook you...
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