Day 5: August 3, 2010
Think of Saskatoon, a city of about 200,000, surrounded by sprawling prairies, a large native population and with the economy charged by potash mining and agriculture. Now imagine what a night out in Saskatoon could be like...
After a visit with Storm’s Aunt & Grandma on Williams Ave (homemade buttertarts included!), we cruised the 5 blocks to Allison’s house. A classmate from Queen’s, Allison moved out to Saskatoon in October 2009 working for Hatch Engineering and to engineer things potash mining-related. We checked in at the party hotel and soon found ourselves at a Broadway Street pub catching the tail end of Saskatoon’s Fringe Festival partying. Waiting at the pub was another Queen’s classmate, Ethan, who has been living the prairie life since graduating in 2008. Originally from Nova Scotia, Ethan seems to have settled in quite well and works as an engineer in agricultural equipment design. Having also met Allison and Ethan’s friends and roommates, it soon came to light that much of Saskatoon’s youthful population is drawn from the thousands of tiny towns across the province. These kids have moved to the big city to live the high life.
Joking aside, the night played out to be one for the record books. Keyed up for a more lively scene, we made our way to the Colonial, a stone’s throw from Allison’s place.
“It’s karaoke night!” says Allison.
Her roommate looks up at us and says, “It’s karaoke night every night at the Colonial.”
“I just joined a new league in town, too,” she goes on.
“Soccer?” I ask.
“Haha no, flip cup!” she says, “The Colonial is starting a flip cup league.”
Suffice to say if you ever go to Saskatoon, the Colonial is a must-see. A massive two-storey 80’s building commandeering a massive corner parking lot, the Colonial looks like a road-side rodeo pub with rooms for rent. Perched out front is Sailor Steve, an older man dressed in jeans and a white windbreaker holding a black and white canvas print of a sailing ship. With no more than a passing glance on our way in, Sailor Steve made no sales pitch. Maybe our ruffian appearance put us out of his target market, or maybe he’s just showing off his artwork to stumbling bar-goers. Never found out which...
With heavy wooden tables and chairs sprawled across the place, the Colonial looked a bit like the Brass in Kingston. Top 40 was pumping and the dance floor, yes dance floor, was dead empty, but would entice the euro dancer in all of us. Sitting between the saloon-style bar to the left and the billiards area to the right, the parquet d-floor featured glitzy lights and a live DJ/karaoke sign up. The glitzy lights were the kind you’d find at an asian electronic gadget store in a dying suburban mall.
We camped out next to the pool table and dance floor, with pitchers of the local Western brew flowing. Smith and Allison’s roommate, Jeff, were challenged to a game of pool by a Korean woman in her mid-twenties and a 50+ white man looking a lot like a vacationing Bill Clinton.
To the right, the dance floor had become the stage for the next karaoke performer- a 45 year old man in a faded blue polo t-shirt tucked into his jeans with crisp white sneakers. Halfway into his AC/DC set, I look over to see him rocking out- not just playing air guitar, but with a guitar hero guitar he had brought with him. Pressing the buttons while stomping around and head thrashing. Impressive.
My attention is quickly diverted back to the billiards area where Jeff and Bill Clinton seemed to be having a bit of a disagreement over a recent shot. Smith had already sat back down with us at the table and surrendered his interest. Things were getting heated, and we watched as the Korean woman rejoined her table next to us- a group of 4 twenty-something Korean guys.
As things get more heated between Jeff and Bill, Smith tells us the bets were being pushed higher- and that the Korean woman was the sharp shooter of the opposing team. Sinking shots when she needs to seal the win, but ‘accidentally’ missing to keep drunkards like Bill thinking they’re still in the game.
And that’s when we realized, the Koreans were a hustling squad, Bill Clinton was tom-fool number one, and Jeff was close to becoming their second slam dunk of the night. By this point there were mere inches between Bill and Jeff’s faces. The argument was over an interpretation of a basic rule of pool, so Bill decides he’s bring in an arbitrator. He treks to the entrance of the bar and comes marching back with the 6’2 bouncer.
“What’s goin on here?” asks the bouncer.
Bill and Jeff each make their pitch, dotted with slurred words and finger pointing, to which the bouncer says,
“You’ve gotta be kidding me. Haha... Figure it out, boys. I’m not a mediator.”
Meanwhile, the dance floor is starting to pick up with an eclectic mix of people- the karaoke groupie girl in pumps and a mini-skirt, our guitar hero rockers, farm boys and a handful of gay couples.
“Oh yeah,” says Allison, “This place also serves as the local gay bar.”
Jeff and Bill have agreed to clear the table and play for double the original bet. Jeff turns to Allison,
“Hey, can I borrow some cash?” he asks.
“Oh common, I don’t know man,” replies Allison.
“Just believe in me!” says Jeff.
“Fine. But I don’t believe in you. I believe you’ll pay me back,” she says.
After taking our own turn on the dance floor and getting our fill of people-watching, we headed home from the Colonial: saloon, pub, restaurant, dance club, gay bar, billiard hall, hustle house, and karaoke hot spot.
After a morning run to check out the tree-lined streets of Toon Town on a breezy Tuesday morning, we were back on the road by 11:30am. That might be a TB (team best). The Gremlin is steering us to Edmonton, followed by loose plans to reach Jasper. We’ve hit more prairie storms, but Jack Johnson makes a great soundtrack for this verdant landscape.
And then I woke up in the parking lot of the behemoth centre-o-consumerism that is the West Edmonton Mall. Water parks, skating rinks, roller coasters, and every store imaginable- it was all pretty overwhelming. While in Saskatoon we’d heard of the roller coaster “With 6.5g’s man. It’s wicked,” so decided that would be our mall attraction of choice. Now it could be that I haven’t been on a roller coaster in a while, but wow did that thing ever take us on a ride. It was called the MindBender, and my mind wasn’t the only thing it bent. If you’re ever passing through Edmonton and want a roller coaster ride to remember, pay the $10 for this one. Just do it before lunch.
After our fill of mall madness, we headed west out of Edmonton to the crooning country tunes on Big West Radio with a real catchy slogan: “Just because we work at a country radio station doesn’t mean we sit around and drink all day.... it means we carry guns.” We camped the night at Pembina River Provincial Park en route to Jasper- a quiet, but jam-packed campground that did the trick for a place to hunker down.
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