Banff Shenanigans - Day One

Hour 1. Speedy SL takes off for Red Deer before us because JI was late picking SV and I up by, maybe, five minutes. Blasting Madonna's "Like a Prayer" from a sporty blue Honda, we take off for Starbucks so that I can feel my face again. Grande soy cinnamon dolce latte secured and I am at least partly human as we take off for Banff.

Hour 2. The 90s are back for good. Ace of Base, Backstreet Boys, and N SYNC join the ride. SV may or may not have taken blackmail-worthy video from her backseat view. Grandma SL meets us outside a purple ceramic teapot gallery beside the Donut Mill for a brief stretch before we head for Cochrane.

Hours 3 and 4. Hanson blares through Airdrie, though the locals pretend not to notice. The four blocks of Cochrane's downtown afford us little eating choices and we settle for an Opa/Quizno's split. Guacamole means Quizno's trumps Subway's veggie delight anyday. McKay's ice cream anyone? How can SV call herself a vegetarian when she eats flavors like "spotted cow"? I have never eaten Halo Halo, you racist bastards. I am NOT Phillipina for the umpteenth time. I choose white chocolate raspberry truffle, hailing the beginning of the end for my pancreatic beta cells.

Hour 5. Winding roads into Banff are occupied by people who like to drive on the double solid yellow line. When the signs say "Mountain sheep - next 2km", they literally mean 2km worth of mountain sheep. The Banff Center is lofty and beautiful. How could I have let so much time elapse between the last time I saw the mountains and now?

Hour 6. Sprawled on our large double (queen?) beds, Grandma and I break out the candy. Our very own Backstreet Boy joins us for some Mead, Aprikat, and sloppy ballet. Lazy is an understatement.

Hours 7 and 8. There's already mead on the carpet but none of us can bring ourselves to clean it up. Wait ... Grandma is anal enough to fight the laziness and finish off a box of mono-ply facial tissue to sop most of it up. We pull ourselves from the luxurious beds and head to registration.

Hours 9 to 12. It's an intimate meeting alright! Three ambitious talks with plenty of comic relief. Thank goodness microbiologists are so good-natured. A million samosas, cakes, squares, mousses, late spanakopita, and a glass of red wine later, Grandma and I are tucked in and ready for sleep. Our computers finally connect so we can check our e-mails (for peace of mind) and day one closes uneventfully.