Gregor on the road I: This flight tonight

Like a school boy anticipating his “first time” at post grad, I’m pretty stoked to be going to Montreal. A big shout out to loyal Nation reader Shaun Hunter, who hooked us up with some WestJet buddy passes to save us some bucks and donate more to the Stollery. Good work Shaun!

I check in at the counter and Michael, the ticket agent, recognizes me from the Global story on Wednesday. No BS; he says what a great story and then gives me a prime aisle seat at the front. These WestJet guys are sweet.

If the start of my trip is any indication of what I should expect I’m stoked. I’m flown lots the last few years with the Rush and for holidays, and I’ve never been picked out to get the “pat down”, until today.

Rob, a former army guy in his 60s, walks up to me as my bags are running through the scanner and informs me I’m the chosen one. I’m no Neo, but I’m no druggy so I’m not worried.

As Rob is doing the “pat down” I decide some idle banter might make it more comfortable as he pats me down and has to slide his fingers inside my belt.

“You ever find anything on people?” I ask.

“I haven’t yet, but a lady was patting down this girl once. She was wearing baggy army pants and when she patted down her legs she found a little case taped to her leg,” says Rob.

At this point I’m thinking drugs or something sassy.

“Turns out that in the little case she had two gerbils. She didn’t want to pay the animal freight charge.”

I was stunned, what kind of cheap ass do you have to be not to pay the freight of two gerbils. And better yet, why are you traveling with them? If she really didn’t want to get caught she could have hid them in a safer area, and pretended she was related to Richard Gere.

Rob was a classic and was a professional as a guy can be when he is patting down a stranger.

The only thing worse than trying to smuggle on two gerbils is lining up at Timmy’s and not having a donut. I used to eat them all the time. I love donuts. Not having one at Timmy’s is like going to the bar and drinking water, or going outside in the winter just so you can talk to your fellow smokers. It’s lame.

I cut out donuts about a year ago, but this temptation is a true test as I drool all over the counter checking out the Boston Cream… I settle for a water and club sandwich. Weak.

Damn… Flight just got delayed, but only 30 minutes, which is just long enough to hoof it across the airport and have a pint.

I miss donuts, but there is nothing finer than that first pint of the day. I guess we’ll have to have a few on the flight, and watch the movie. Talk to you in Montreal!

What a flight. I’m watching TV, I love that on WestJet you get your own TV, and I see the King of Pop has died. I know he became plastic in the end, but from his Jackson Five days to the 90s he was a machine. I watched Thriller, Beat It and Billie Jean on MuchMusic. Love him or hate him, he was damn talented.

I then watched the NBA draft, and what a snore fest it was. I just couldn’t get into it, but there was a hockey reference.

Spanish teenager Ricky Rubio went 5th to the Minnesota Timberwolves and the 18-year-old was compared to Wayne Gretzky. They said he had vision and the ability to see that play before it happened, and then they showed some highlights and this kid has great passing skills. Hopefully he brings that to the NBA. Of course he won’t dominate his sport like Gretzky did, but to get a reference to him means something.

It’s time to do the Nation proud and check out Crescent Street. I’ll be at the Bell Centre around 11 or 12 EST so I’ll update then.