Needless to say, Stratford, Ontario is a beautiful, quaint little town.  I was there for a weekend with my friend, referred to as monty, to catch a couple plays at the Stratford Festival of Canada.

Things started off well, as we dropped off our bags at our guest home, which is basically the homes of retired people who rent out their rooms to visitors.  monty, regrettably, did not take her glasses with her as we walked to Crabby Joe's, a restaurant recommended by our taxi driver.  Let me ask you something - how is it possible, to get a fly caught in your eye?!  Like, seriously.  I have problems wilfully catching flies, and someone finds a way to catch one occularly... go figure.  There we are, trying to get a fly out of monty's eye.  Hold still, damn you!

monty: still there?
me: oh yah.  you're going to be dreaming of giant flies tonight, you realize that.
monty: shut up.
me: *laugh* how does this happen to you, btw?

But the highlight of the trip occurred at around 9:30am on Saturday morning.  I wake up the sound of rapping at my door, and there's monty, looking worried.  I ask if everything's ok, to which she replies no.

"I uhhh.... clogged the toilet."

Now, even quoting her doesn't do this justice.  Despair, laughter, and fear were nicely rolled up into one.  After asking her who was in there now (the door was closed), monty said no one was there.  She closed the door to make sure no one went in, and came knocking on MY door.  errr.... I think that's supposed to be flattering.  And what would monty tell anyone who wants in?  "Whoa.  I'm not done in there yet.  My friend needs to see this first...  It's a two man job in there, and I need an audience..."

Picture two people of respectable age, standing over a toilet with a plunger.  Both stifling laughter.  Picture one worried how to tell Mrs. Graham about the toilet - now picture the other shaking his head.  More laughter, thinking of the others hearing us laughing.  More laughing.

Half an hour later, we concede and go downstairs to tell Mrs. Graham.  The charge is led by monty.  However, both Mrs. Graham and monty were confounding each other, since monty was a bit worried and Mrs. Graham couldn't hear monty properly.  I found this quite amusing.

graham: what on earth did you put down there?
monty: *looks back at me, turns back*  nothing.... unnatural?

I was about to explode in laughter at that point.  A brilliant answer to a rhetorical question!  monty was wondering if she should start listing things.   The key at this point is to figure out a way to blame the other guests.... *nods*  That warranted a thumbs-up from monty.

In the end, the culprit was a plastic butterfly that normally decorates the bathroom mirror.  Apparently it fell into the toilet before monty used it, making our fretting all for naught... *sigh*

And yes, the plays were fun too.