| grayline tour stories |
| GRAYLINE TOUR STORIES |
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| Wednesday July 18, 2001 travelling |
| As Nick mentioned, he had to leave the 'tour' for some job related business, thus leaving me (Darren) to finish the saga that was 'The Menage A Tour'... After the Ottawa show, the band split up as in Pete and Nick went to John's apartment and myself and Randy went with Darryl and Jim to Darryl's cousins Doms. It was late, we were tired, we went to sleep. Morning has broken, and it's wednesday. I feel as refreshed as one can be after sleeping on the floor beside Randy in clothes which are still damp from the night before. At this point, I'm deeply wishing for my own bed, or even just a bed without Randy in it. I would lay down in that bed after a long steamy shower in my own bathroom, where on the edge of the tub I have my Oil of Olay Body Moisturizer of which I place a generous amount into the palm of my right hand, lather up my cock, and beat the fucker like it owes me money!! That whole scenario is what I like to call "my happy place". Anyways, regardless of my wishes, we all showered, dressed and went out to find some food. We ate at some Ethnic food restaurant. I think it was Lebonese. I don't know, it tasted like chicken to me. So here we are in the Nation's Capital, with a few hours to burn. What do you do? SO... we're at the Parliament buildings looking like a bunch of hung over mental patients out on a day pass. There's myself, Randy, Darryl, Jim and some dude with a red mohawk walking around aimlessly looking at the beautiful architecture, the lovely view across the river to Hull, Quebec and some old guy in a fenced in area tending to the needs of a dozen or so stray cats!!! Well spent tax payers' money!! After that, we went back to Dom's to get ready to leave. Pete showed up around 4:00 and we were all off on our way to Notre-Dame-Du-Nord. Notre-what? Exactly. A brief stop in the mecca that is Mattawa to throw stones across a rippling lake and hit on the locals and we continue on our way. Darryl tells us of a 'short cut' to save time and we take it. This so-called shortcut seems to be nothing more than a logging road. A low maintenance twisting, turning asphalt snake running through the middle of a goddamn forest. It reminded me of the story of Sleepy Hollow. If I see anything headless I'm gonna lose it. Randy and I are staring wide eyed out the windshield from the backseat. We're looking for moose, bigfoot, guys in hockey masks... If you ever kill a person, this is the place to bring the corpse. We got bats banging off the windshield, we're on a dark desolate road, and to top it all off, Darryl is telling Indian ghost stories. I'm scared. There's no place like home, there's no place like home. Take me to my happy place!! Finally the nightmare ends. Well, we're off that road anyways. Late wednesday night we arrive in Notre-Dame-Du-Nord. No fighting Irish here. We pass through the town in the blink of an eye to just outside the town limits to the Temiskaming First Nations Reserve where we'll be staying for the next three days at Darryl's house. So, here we are, in the middle of nowhere, Northern Quebec, what to you do? So, we're at the local strip club... Pete and I enter the fine establishment first. We both look at the local "talent" onstage and then at each other. Randy, who came in behind us, obviously hadn't looked yet. He asked what was wrong due to the expressions on mine and Pete's faces. We nodded in the direction of the stripper and he turned his head and the eyes widened. What a sight to behold. A very over weight black women with two very differently proportioned tits that hung like a couple of grapefruits in a pair of nylons. I wouldn't call it dancing... maybe testing the water, if you know what I mean. It wasn't enough to make you gay, but enough to make you consider it. You know, most strippers have somewhat sexy stage names. Not in Notre-Dame. After "Big Mama" was done shaking her money maker, the announcer introduced the next fine lady. "and gentlemen, up next is TAMMY!!" Can you say, Sexy? So, off to perverts row we go. Tammy was a fine piece of ass. A horse's ass that is. She was enough to make you consider it, too. There was one girl there that was as cute as a bug's ear. I would've liked to introduce her to my happy place. Unfortunately, all she was interested in was whether we had any coke or other chemical distractions we could give her. So fast forward to the feature of the night. Grrrr baby, grrrr. Can you say Couger? A 50+ female version of Billy Idol swingin 'round the pole and spreading wide enough that we could see all the way up to her lungs. $10 later (thanks to Randy and Pete...), I'm getting a vip dance from said couger and she's a classic French-Canadian stripper. Maybe not the kind of girl you'd take home to mom but definitely a MILF. I told her I was a lonely guy trapped in a van for the last two weeks with three other guys. She felt sorry for me and let me play with her tits. Now we're talking!! I wondered what she'd do for $50? She was gyrating on my lap when Darryl came over and sat in front of us. She moved up my legs a bit then eyed up his crotch. "That's a pretty big package you got there," she purred and leaned over and shoved her hand up his shorts. "That's not my cock," Darryl laughed at her, "that's my stash!!". "So it is," she replied, then started feeling his cock. "You wanna make a movie?" he asked her. She shook her head 'no'. "Come on," Darryl continued "we got some good gear, it'll be fun. You and a bunch of guys..." "I'll party with you," she said "but no camera." "Come on," Darryl shot back at her, "I can't get hard without a camera in my face!!" Speaking of hard, I had already whipped out my little Johnson which was in a fully fuctional state and was trying to beat it against the couger's back. She must have felt the wind for sure... The rest of the evening wnded down with nothing happening. We went back to Darryl's house at about 4:am and crashed out. Another day done, another on the horizon... |
| This was one of those surprises. We figured maybe three hours to get to Northern Quebec, along some lonely old highway. Didn't realize it doesn't work that way and you have to drive halfway across fucking Ontario and then up. Seven hours of driving later and we're there. We stopped a couple of times but the highlight of the day was definitely Darren with Grandma Couger... Pete |
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