Timbits, flight-fears, dancing sociologists, and funeral stories...
This pretty much sums up my Montreal experience. I could stop right here, but let me elaborate...
Surely if you have ever travelled to or lived in Canada (or a US location that boasts this fanchise), you are familiar with Tim Horton's. This unpretentious bakery chain is home to delectable, delightfully un-healthy Timbits which I consumed on a daily basis whilst on Canadian soil. So yummy...
Of course, within the first 24 hours of my stay came the news of the foiled terrorist plot and all its repercussions, which delayed some conference attendees and sent others into speculations and conjectures regarding pending flights homeward. Since I already believe that death is imminent whenever I set foot on a plane, I did not find the new threat-level-status to be all that troubling, though I was momentarily excited by the idea of not carring anything beyond a book onto the plane. As is my wont, I in fact ended up carrying a heavy backpack void of any lotions or gels but filled with books and papers which I did not peruse, save one, on the entire flight home. Turbulance due to a thunderstorm somewhere over Wisconsin gave me reason to entreat the mercy of a Benevolent God for a solid ten mintues in-flight. Palpitations and chest pains persist even though feet are now on solid ground.
By far the highlight of this conference, during the past two years I have attended, was the annual AIDS benefit reception and auction. The reason for this is simple: the organization hires a band to play music and at least one (though last year it was quite a crowd) self-assured sociologist hits the dancefloor. I had to give this year's dance-off's sole competitor and hand-down winner her propers. The lights were not nearly low enough, nor the drinks cheap enough, to compensate for my lack of self-assurance. Don't get me wrong, this homegirl knows how to cut a rug...
Lastly, after imbibing a lovely hard cider beverage at a local downtown tavern, I sat with two friends last night, swapping family funeral stories. Here are a few highlights:
*Bubba neighbor in Tennessee who peers into grandfather's casket and, when asked by grandmother if he knew her husband, said neighbor replies, "Nope" and walks away. A community pastime, perhaps?
*Puerto Rican grandmother nursing a beer under her jacket during Catholic funeral mass
*Recognizing funeral home draperies as the same as one's mother's, only in pink instead of off-white, during great-grandmother's visitation
Sure, I organized and presided over a session, during which I presented a paper. That will be good for the resume and scholarly pursuits. I also may in fact have gained 10 lbs in fried doughnut batter. But I think I'll remember the stories shared late and long, with much laughter, more than anything else.