|
It was a dark and stormy night. The wind whipped up the leaves
and the trees fought desperately not to bend against the fury of
the storm. Huge rain drops pelted the window panes, almost freezing
on contact as the temperature plummeted. The penguin, reclined in
his La-Z-Boy, stared gloomily out the window.
“This is no weather for a penguin,” he muttered as he pulled his
favourite blanket snuggly around himself in an effort to keep warm.
He picked up the latest issue of Penguin's Digest and flipped
through the pages. He spied a vacation ad showing warm sunny
beaches and smiling, tanned penguins. It read “Get away from winter
by joining the Snowbirds. Book your vacation online with us today
to get an additional discount on our already amazing deals. We have
a beach chair and a Mai Tai with your name on it.”
He closed his eyes, picturing himself laying in the sun with a
fruity, umbrella drink in one hand and a plate of smoked herrings
in the other. Suddenly feeling warm and cozy, he smiled at the
bikini clad beauties as they strolled past him on their way down
the beach. The penguin's mood brightened considerably.
He opened his eyes and stared across the room at the dust
covered Computron 1984, a relic of his foray away from his
ancestral roots and into the digital age. Struggling out of his
recliner, he dashed across the room and hit the power button for
the first time in 12 years. He settled himself down, his hands
shaking with excitement, opened his Penguinscape browser and typed
in the URL. A page appeared with a list of 32 exotic destinations
shown against a background of fun in the sun. Scrolling through
them, he quickly made his choice and clicked on the “Book it now”
button. A large, grey warning screen came up.
“This browser is not supported and we will take no
responsibility for booking errors if you proceed. All bookings are
final with no refunds.”
He hesitated briefly but decided that the warning wasn't worth
worrying about. It took him all of 5 seconds to hit the OK
button.
The computer whirred and beeped and wisps of smoke could be seen
rising from the back. He waited patiently as the screen first went
blue, then black. After what seemed an eternity, the webpage
reappeared on his monitor with the message “Your trip has been
successfully booked. Tickets will be available for you to pick up
at the Air Wombat counter at Lester B Pearson Airport in Toronto on
your departure date. Please make sure you arrive at the counter a
minimum of 3 hours prior to your departure time. Thank you for
booking your vacation with Snowbirds and enjoy your holiday.”
The penguin leapt from his chair and ran into his bedroom. He
grabbed his sunscreen, Speedo and a book of nonograms, jamming them
in a small carry on. Stuffing his passport into his pocket, he ran
out the door and flagged down a cab to take him to the airport.
Upon arriving at the Air Wombat counter, he was handed a bundle of
tickets and his itinerary. Thinking only of the sun and sand at
this point, he neglected to look them over. Instead he joyfully
endured customs and proceeded to gate number 44 in anticipation of
his flight. Within a short time, he was seated on a plane bound for
New Orleans.
After a short stopover spent listening to Dixieland , the mildly
confused penguin boarded a flight to Miami. While partying it up in
the Floridian conga line, he heard a boarding announcement for
flight AW #623 heading to Quebec City, his next stop. A few too
many inflight beverages, combined with a bumpy landing back in
Canada, had him feeling a bit woozy. His utter mangling of the
French language netted him 7 paperbacks, 18 packs of gum and a
singing teddy bear before he successfully mimed his need for Gravol
at the duty free. Soon after, he was en route from La Belle
Province to his next destination, Boston. Before he could even say
Tea Party, the penguin left the tarmac in Massachusetts and was on
his way to the land of the cowboys, Dallas/Fort Worth. After
failing miserably at riding a mechanical bull in the boarding
lounge, our intrepid explorer found himself winging his way to
Raleigh, North Carolina. He had just taken a sip of his iced tea in
the airport lounge when he took a peek at his itinerary and
realized his flight to Kansas City was leaving in 4 minutes. À la
O.J Simpson, he raced through the airport, leaping over the baggage
of stunned travellers, making it to his plane just in time.
He arrived in Kansas frazzled and feeling like his great idea
wasn't so great anymore. Departing for John F. Kennedy in New York
City did nothing to improve his quickly deteriorating mood. By the
time he landed in the Big Apple, he had spent upwards of 32 hours
in the air not to mention the many hours of boarding lounge time.
The penguin slid off the uncomfortable airport bench and landed
with a thump on the floor when he realized that Heathrow, where his
next flight was destined to take him, was across the Atlantic. He
thought back to that grey warning screen and a small tear formed in
the corner of his eye. This was not at all the vacation he had
envisioned. However, being the eternal optimist, he decided he had
to make the best of what looked to be a bad situation. He brushed
himself off and waddled to the gate, eager to see what the U.K. had
to offer.
The layover in London was a time to remember. To truly enjoy
Britain, he felt it was necessary to spend time drinking beer and
eating fish and chips. The double decker bus tour was remarkable.
He only fell out once, startled when Big Ben tolled midnight as
they passed. Being chased by the fuzzy-hatted guards at Buckingham
Palace after inadvertently finding himself in the Queen's bedroom
was THE highlight. Although his ears had almost stopped ringing, he
was still nursing the bump on his head from the bus mishap when his
cab pulled up to the departures area. Next stop, Frankfurt.
After eating his fill of sauerkraut and bratwurst in Germany,
with beer in hand, the penguin adjusted his lederhosen and prepared
himself for the next leg of his journey. Never in his wildest
dreams would he have imagined himself in Moscow, but that's where
he was going. His stop in Russia was only long enough for him a buy
a parka and knock back a few vodka shots (he lost count at 8). As
the warmth spread down to his toes, he stumbled onto his next
flight.
It was a dark and stormy night when he arrived in Belarus. The
penguin peered out his window, watching the snow flakes blowing
across the runway as the plane taxied to the terminal, and wondered
if there was anything to do in Minsk. Sitting in the deserted
airport, he had nearly lost his newfound spirit when he dared
glance down at his battered itinerary. A huge grin spread across
his face when he saw where the next plane would take him. He would
arrive at his final stop in just 28 hours! The penguin skipped onto
the aircraft and took his seat.
A day later, the penguin found himself on a beach in Cancun
warming himself in the sun. In one hand was a Mai Tai while the
other held a plate of smoked herrings. He smiled at the bikini clad
beauties as they strolled past him on their way down the beach.
“This is just like I imagined it” he thought to himself. Back in
his room was the nearly unreadable itinerary and his final ticket.
It read “non-stop Cancun-Toronto.” The departure: 6:15 a.m., the
very next day. |