Lovely morning, they tell me back in the real world it is still a holiday in the USA, but these Canadians insist on starting a new work week. I continue to immerse myself in all things Canadian, and order a Canadian Breakfast. Eggs, potatoes, Canadian bacon and pancakes. Coffee, juice, and I filled my self up, ready to face another day. That was the last decision I made all day that required any effort. The hot heavy air, bright sun cooked me and everyone else, movement was slow, deliberate, and energy sapping, who really wants to work this hard on holiday? I certainly did not want to do much of anything at all. Showering, dressing for a night out all required a level of energy that I could not find, I was sapped. I allowed myself to be driven around, the scenery out the car window alternated from the familiar to the foreign, Green rolling fields, brick homes, and traffic congestion.
I decided that drinking a beer would solve all my troubles. To celebrate my new favorite in the FIFA World Cup, I decided to drink Heineken, by the pint, as I was dehydrated. Those silly Canadians measure a pint in 20 ounces, at least at this particular purveyor of sustenance and libation, and I continued to need libation, every time I stepped out into the heat of the day, I was quickly overtaken by the hot thick smelly air of Hamilton. I decided to leave the establishment and after handing someone several bills with unfamiliar faces on them and in return receiving a strip of card; I was shown to a seat inside a large cavernous room, with several thousand other people seated behind me, no seats were in front of me. I had an unobscured view of something familiar, ringing a bell somewhere in the back of my heat and beer addled brain. I soon found out that if one American drinks enough Dutch Beer in Canada, tall Englishmen appear in front of her, singing and dancing. No not them again. I politely feigned interest for the next few hours. If one watched me closely, they would have seen that the smiles were forced, the clapping unenthused, and the singing following a well worn path, just going through the motions. LIES. It was a fabulous show from the moment the Band walked out onto the stage, several winks from the curly headed one, whose curls tightened up in the damp weather, eye brow raises, smiles from that tall one in the center, and smiles and waves from the rest of the talented folks up there, before my eyes.

The heat apparently did not affect the performance, as the enthusiasm was present, practically palpable, and did not waver over the course of the presentation. What endurance. I was looked directly in the eyes, and welcomed back a second night, wow, they took attendance, and remembered who was there the night before, I am special, and now everyone knows it. They played all those songs that mean so much to so many, and one very special handsome gentleman in the front row spent his time jamming with his friends on stage, and was justly rewarded. It was an intimate and private concert feeling night, one that both lasted forever, and never ended, and was over much too quickly. One might wish to have this experience every night, but then would it be as special, as when it comes by surprise? Than when it is planned out to the minute, with the ensuing disappointment that comes whenever you over plan, and events do not meet up with expectations?
So hot and tired after, but so worth it.