'79 Impala

I once spent the night in a ‘79 Chevy Impala with 2 clowns and a magician. The glitter got everywhere.

It was late July 1999 and a small troupe of ne’er-do-wells were following the carnival from the Calgary Stampede up to Edmonton Alberta for their Klondike Days. K Days are like a smaller and less impressive Stampede as far as these Calgarians were concerned, but any carnival or festival is a place where street performers have opportunities.

Looking back, I have no idea how any of us survived, but something always came along. Well, some of us didn’t survive. Some of us got real, actual jobs! ICK! But that’s a sad story for another time.

We spent the last summer that Calgary was kind of cool, busking at Prince’s Island Park, behind the Hard Rock Cafe. - Calgary had a Hard Rock once! Then it was a daycare, then they knocked it down. - When the Stampede came we moved to 8th Ave and Olympic Plaza to be closer to the tourists and the action. We performed magic, juggling, thrilling escapes - but the thing that was sure to capture hearts and dollars was balloon sculpting.

I’m not talking about lame wiener dogs here, I mean lions, and tigers, and bears, oh my! Monkeys climbing trees to fetch a coconut, or how about a teddy bear juggling three balls while riding a unicycle! I suggested one of us dress up and be a teddy bear, twisting a teddy bear juggling three balls while riding a unicycle, while riding a unicycle. Our unicycle was stolen before anyone got good enough to pull it off.

I digress… I do that a lot.

K-Days in Edmonton were a few days after Stampede. 4 of us lads decided it would be worth the gas money to pile into my rusty old Impala and drive 3 hours north to work the crowds up there for a few days. We left early enough to be there in time for the parade. Balloons went well with parades. If you’re not careful you can get swarmed by a crowd of sugared up kids. Parades keep crowds spread out along the route so you can make your way up and down, catching the attention of a few families at a time. We fanned out to work the crowd.

There’s an adorable little girl. “How much is a balloon flower?”. It will cost you nothing sweetheart, your dad on the other hand… usually a dollar or two. Whatever he thinks it’s worth to brighten your day with a piece of sculpted art, hand crafted before your very eyes. It has taken me many years and many a sprained finger mastering my craft, just to put a smile on your beautiful little face. What’s that worth to you on a beautiful day like today - sir? I could make a cute little flower you could wear on your wrist, or a tall flower with petals that bounce when you walk, you could put it in a vase when you get home… but no water or it’ll float right out!

Five dollars! Thank you sir, for you my dear, here’s the super deluxe flower with the bouncy petals AND a tiny little humming bird taking a sip.

After the parade we regrouped at the car. We each made enough to grab some food and make a plan for the evening. We decided to head to Whyte Ave and work the street or maybe some bars. Back then, I wouldn’t think twice about engaging complete strangers in a pub, or on the street between pubs, to show them a little sleight of hand, or to make a friendly wager they could never win. Of course I’d reveal they could never win and go on to do a set about cheats and pick pockets. All in good fun. They’d get all their belongings back in the end. So entertained in the process that they’d be happy to give a little something back.

Apart from the usual, entertainment for cash, we were trying to make friends. Friends who might be willing to lend a couch to a charismatic vagabond, or for some of us, perhaps charismatic enough for… who knows. We’d all have to find our own new friends, of course. If even some of us succeeded, that would reduce the number of beds we’d need in a motel.

Well, perhaps it’s because Edmonton is not Europe, or we simply weren’t as charismatic as we’d hoped we were, but we all struck out on that plan. Plan B was a roadside motel on the way into town. We booked as 2 guests for 2 beds and snuck in the other two later. So there we were. 4 straight young men, 2 double beds, 1 run down motel in Edmonton in the 90’s.

We were secure enough in our sexuality to agree that we could share one room to save money. When it came to the actual sleeping arrangements, some of us began to feel weird about the situation. We now had to decide who was sleeping with whom. No one wanted to outright choose a partner… we had no mental facility between us to interpret what that might imply!

No one ever wants to be picked last on the playground, but in a motel room? Exactly what criteria might one invent to logically select which of 3 dudes to sleep with? Would 4 girlfriends have the same problem? I mean, girl friends, call each other girlfriends, but most guys don’t call their friends boyfriends. There’s something different going on here.

Well, being magicians we had playing cards, so we all cut and the two highest cards went together, and the two lowest cards went together. But, feeling uncomfortable, and being magicians, we could all manipulate cards, which cast suspicion on the fairness of the whole thing. The same went for coin tosses, rolling dice and drawing straws.

In the end we decided the two tallest and the two shortest, we’d all wear our street clothes and sleep on top of the covers. Problem solved.

None of that is even the weird part. Sometime around 4:30 am, my bed partner… the guy I’m with… The other tall fella! Starts screaming at the top of his lungs, “No! NO! Get off me! Get off me!”

Of course this startles us all awake. I’m closest to the door and the light switch so I jump up and turn it on, filling the pitch black room with bright white light and this guy’s still screaming, now kicking and flailing around. I’m standing there thinking about how this might look. “No, no, get off me?”… I’m wondering if it’s some kind of practical joke and considering punching him in the face. But he seems to kind of wake up and starts to calm down.

THEN, after agreeing to come on this trip, after striking out with the local’s couches, after the shenanigans with sneaking in extra guests, after the existential crisis of selecting the sleeping arrangements. Only then, does he find it pertinent to let us know he suffers from night terrors.

Ok, well, we head to Denny’s for some breakfast. No more sleeping now. We spend part of the day trying to work. Part of it lazing around the park half dazed from lack of sleep. We try the bars again that night. The tips were good, but still no offers of couches. NO motel this night, but it’s too late to drive all the way back home. We stop at a truck stop parking lot and take a nap in the ‘79 Impala.

About 4:30 am… the glitter got everywhere.