Time to move on. Cont...

The town of Banff was named after Banffshire in Scotland and if it's anything like Banff Alberta, you can bet your last dollar, I'll be heading there one day. The first week I spent working at the Buffalo Mountain Lodge  was pretty mundane as I was in unfamiliar territory. Each room had two beds and I ended up sharing said room with a fellow from Quebec named Josh. Hell of a great fellow. We hit it off almost immediately. Shared stories, plans for the future, and most interestingly enough, we climbed Cascade Mountain together. Well, by climbed, I mean scrambled, and we didn't actually reach the top. I'd say about three quarters of the way without any gear. We decided to stop after Josh almost fell to his death. Why tempt fate. We even erected a flag at the apex of our ascent. If I remember correctly, we took a large white bed sheet and tied it to this sad looking shrub of a tree. I wrote something poetic, Josh made mention about passing gas at five thousand feet. This was probably why we got along so well.

   My first experience with excessive use of drugs was with Josh. One night we were parked in my car out behind the hotel with my windows rolled up and we smoked pot till we couldn't see straight. I had to stop at one point to get out of the vehicle and walk home; something about thinking that if I didn't leave, I was going to hurt the trees. I was sick for the next four days. On another occasion, a fellow from town sold me what he called, magic mushrooms. I took them home and tucked them under my bed. I was so paranoid that I was going to get caught and thrown in jail. Later that day when Josh finished his shift, I showed him what I had. We threw the mushrooms in some brownie batter and had a few to eat after an hour or so in the oven. I didn't feel a thing at first and was becoming quite agitated that I had been ripped off. Then Josh said something and the next thing we knew, we were laughing so hard we couldn't breathe. even one of the girls next door came over and asked what the hell we were on, which led to even more laughter. There were many more days similar to this one. Most did not involve drugs. I was never really the drug type anyway, but I have always felt that with somethings, you can't really have an opinion unless you've had the experience. With a heavy emphasis on the "some things". I have never tried what I consider heavy drugs and I don't need to try them to know that the consequences are dire.
 
   The lure of the party scene in town seemed worth a look since everyone and their dog seemed to be going out at night (or during the day) and making a complete mess of themselves. The main drag had a few good places to go. I ended up frequenting the Kings Head. Nice English style pub with plenty of ugly lights. To those who don't know, ugly lights are dim lights in an establishment presumable to hide the fact that some people need more than just a few drinks to look better.

   One night I shall never forget (or entirely remember), I had walked down to the Kings Head and began to test the limits of my body with copious amounts of alcohol. I recall someone daring me to do a table dance. Rule number one, a friend should never dare a inebriated 18 year old to do anything. The last thing I recall about that night was taking my clothes off while dancing from the top of the table. I may have fallen to the floor, or a bouncer may have removed me. I can't be sure. What I do remember is waking up the next morning, naked being eaten alive by mosquitoes behind a wood pile at the hotel. No clothes to be found anywhere. To this day, I have no knowledge as to how I got home or where my clothes were. I would also like to believe that no one saw me sneak into my room.
 
   Around a month or so later I had wandered into the staff dining room to grab a bite to eat. I can't recall what I ate but gradually I became so ill over the next two days that I collapsed in the hallway of the staff residence. I was driven to the hospital and admitted. I don't think I have ever been that sick where some sort of recreational substance wasn't responsible. I was in the hospital for two weeks till I snapped out of what ever I was harboring in my body. I was certain it was the staff room food but the doctors would never completely confirm that and I suspect the hotel was concerned that I would call either the labor board or sue. Clearly they didn't know me well. Considering before this job I was homeless, a two week stint in a hospital was like a time spent at a spa..... with bodily functions I won't mention here for the sake of being polite.

   I returned to work for a short while there after, but once autumn arrived, business slowed down and they needed to get rid of a few staff members. I think there were about ten of us that were let go. The "Last Day" party was great. After that day I only saw Josh once again at another hotel he went to work at. I always wondered what ever happened to him. I was told of employment at the Chateau Lake Louise, and due to my experience with the Buffalo Mountain Lodge, I was hired on the spot. My time here was short due to the extreme party lifestyle I had adopted. After the New Years Eve party I stole a piano from the Chateau. Yes, a piano. It was an upright piano that was scheduled for being sent to the dump the following week. Somehow in my drunken stupor, I convinced two other drunks that we should remove the piano form the Chateau and take it to my staff residence where we could hide it. I lived on the second floor of the building known as the "Brewster". My acquisition lasted till the next day when security showed up and kindly told me that if I took the piano back to the place where it came from, no charges would be laid. It wasn't very hard to follow the tracks left by our escape in the snow. Looking back now, I find myself rather embarrassed about the whole thing. I didn't even know how to play the piano. Well, I managed to convince two now sober yet rather hung over individuals that I needed to take the piano back. Did I mention snow banks? Or the large distance between the Brewster and the Chateau? Good times. I had a meeting with some big wig in a rather large office who told me that I had 4 hours to vacate the premises and a one year ban from the property. On to the next job.
 
   The ski hill was hiring, and lucky for me they hadn't heard about my stunt. I was hired to haul equipment and food from the Charleston, which happens to be the largest log cabin in the world; or at least it was, to the ski lodge around the back of the hill. It was an incredibly boring job, but the pay off was a free ski lift pass, free lodging and free meals. the pay sucked but what did I care. I could ski away to my hearts desire.

     I wasn't a very good skier, and after being at the ski hill for a month or so I found myself once again being hauled to the hospital on a spinal board after breaking my back on the last run of the day. I had fractured the disks L1 and L2. I was bed ridden for two months and I was amazed how you can actually forget how to walk. It took about a week for my head to get the swing of things and figure how to walk again.

   My Father came and picked me up and for the first time in two years, I was back home. Granted, they had moved to a new home as He and Wendy were able to get themselves into a new home with the money they received from my Grandmother for the sale of the cabin. A bit of a sore spot there. I stayed there for maybe a week or so and had to leave. Dad and I still hadn't patched anything up. We started to fight again almost instantly upon my arrival. I hitched a ride out to Banff, picked up my car, and tried to find work again. The busy season was over and I was for a short time, homeless again. Enter the Grandmother. My savior.

And here ends my adventures in Banff and begins my twisted life in Calgary.

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