a survey of Canadian cities in seven days: Calgary

Continuing my stories of each Canadian city I visited during my seven day sprint across the country:

My entire time in Calgary was spent at the airport.

My stop in Calgary on the way to my destination was very different from my stop on the way back.

On the way out:

When I landed in Calgary, it was my first time down south below the 60th parallel in six months. I almost felt like a prisoner who had been granted furlough. Maybe I have been watching too much Orange is the New Black.

I have one hour to find something to eat (because Air Canada won't feed us) and something to read that is better than this legal textbook I brought along from some reason. But it's overwhelming, all the choices. There are so many people here. People trying to sell you credit cards. People not smiling at you when you pass.  People speaking Korean! For the last few months I have been only speaking Korean to myself, usually in the context of swearing under my breath.

Finally I had something to eat and read: Tim Horton's and Shape Magazine, because Jillian Michaels did a nude photoshoot for this month's issue as a celebration of turning 40. There's something about reading Jillian's work-out routine while eating a hash brown. I have very complicated feelings towards Jillian Michaels, wavering between annoyance and admiration, somewhat like how I felt towards my piano teachers who made me practice for hours.

On the way back:

On my way back up north, I feel like things keep going wrong, tiny irritations that are insignificant on their own, but cumulatively amounting to what seems like a bad omen for this part of my trip.  Somewhat takes the last Starbucks salad that I had been hoping to buy. I get a manicure that is wrecked immediately when I scrape my nails against my purse.  The security line is ridiculously long.  Still, I remind myself that at least I got a manicure, that I can get a Tim Horton's coffee instead (my last one before I go back up north), and soon I will be in Yellowknife with a whole afternoon of shopping and exploring ahead of me.

mani-pedi time

my last Tim Horton's, and my new nails

And then there was a flight.

Because I have been on like five plans in the last six days and I still have many more to go, I sleep right through the take off. Even in my sleep though, I can feel a certain rockiness that I'm not used to, and a continuous whirring humming sound that does not sound right, and I am pulled from my nap.

Then there is an announcement from the pilot.  Unfortunately, I am still only half awake and the pilot has a very soft voice, so I can only make out part of what he is saying is that something is wrong and we are going to have to fly back to Calgary - not that we've really gotten very far out of it.

The flight attendant makes her way down the aisle, a calm smile on her face, offering cold beverages.

I casually turned my head to the man sitting next to me, who is also trying to act totally casual. He is flying north for the first time in his life.  I ask him if he understood what the pilot said. He shakes his head.

Then the pilot makes another announcement, his voice still frustratingly soft as ever, and we try to make out more words.  We are able to make out that the landing gears are stuck, but it is unclear as to whether they are stuck up or in the down position. We are going to fly over the control tower at the Calgary airport, who will make a visual assessment of where the faulty landing gear is at. Then we are going to attempt an abnormal landing, but, he assures us, all according to standard procedure.

I have a seat that is right over the wing.

People are talking quietly on the plane, while the cheerful flight attendant continues to offer drinks down the aisle. You know, we say to each other, it's not so bad if the landing gear is stuck down, because we'll be able to land and the mechanics will fix it.

None of us ask the question of what will happen if the landing gear is stuck in the up position and can't be deployed.

The pilot makes another announcement, simply noting that we'll be flying in circles for a little bit to burn off some fuel.

They don't tell us this, but the reason we're doing this is because it's dangerous to try to landing with a full fuel tank because things might go all explodey in flames. Do you know why I know this? Do you know that this exact same thing happened to me last year? Our landing gear got stuck and we had to circle around Yellowknife for hours and hours to burn off fuel before we could land.  That time, I also had a window seat over the wing and could see the malfunctioning landing gear stuck. I decided ever since then that I don't like window seats over the wing. I don't like having a front row seat's view of what is going wrong.

Well, here we were again, except that we're not on a propellor plane and no one can see whether the landing gear is up or down.  We don't know for sure how this flight will end.

Moments like this give you a sense of clarity about how you feel about your life.  You realize what is important to you, and what you regret.  Me, I was thinking that if I was going to die, that would probably suck but it could certainly be worse.  I am thankful that  I don't have that many regrets. My loved ones know that I love them. I have led an interesting life so far.  However, one thing was gnawing at the back of my mind: my Facebook profile photo was currently of me, as a child, stealing a popsicle from my baby cousin.  I wasn't sure that was how I wanted the world to remember me, forever and ever.

I realize that I have chewed right through my freshly polished nails.

The pilot comes on the PA again to let us know that we are going to attempt an abnormal landing, but it will all be according to standard procedure. He tells us there will be emergency vehicles waiting for us on the runway, but that is all just standard procedure. I wonder what is an abnormal landing according to standard procedure.

I still have trouble understanding clearly what the pilot is saying, but I take comfort in the fact that they aren't telling us to assume the brace position in case of a crash.  Which is good, because I never understood how you can assume the brace position when the seats are all so cramped and you don't actually have room to tuck your head between your knees.  I do wonder though, what is going through people's minds.  You don't want to panic too early, because if it turns out you're not going to die, you're just gonna look like an idiot.  But is there an acceptable point at which you know you are going to die and you call that person you love and leave them a message telling them you love them? But what an awkward message that would be if you didn't die after all.

I thought about a friend who told me that during the last earthquake in Ottawa, he was at his office. When the walls started shaking, he stood up abruptly and announced to his coworkers,  "I just want you all to know that I like most of you."

emergency vehicles

By the time I finished thinking all these thoughts, we had actually landed - very smoothly, actually - and as it turned out, the landing gears were stuck in the down position, thank God.  The emergency vehicles were all there on the runway waiting for us, but we were able to get off the plane without a fuss, where they handed us a $10 food voucher for any Air Canada flight as compensation for having to face our mortality.  Like I plan to fly Air Canada again any time again soon.

my own Amazing Race in Calgary

My idea was to spend my eight hour layover exploring Calgary, a city that I've never visited before.  The original plan was to leave the airport, do a bit of shopping on 17th Avenue, meet up with my buddy J, a Calgary resident, and then grab some dinner at a nearby restaurant where I can try some of that famous Alberta beef.  It wouldn't be the most thorough opportunity to go sightseeing, but I figured it would give me a good little sample.

But all Canadians know that all of your plans must contain an asterisk with the fine print "weather permitting". The weather was not permitting that day. My flight from Ottawa to Calgary was delayed by three hours, which was annoying because I had shown up at the airport at 6:30AM only to found out that I could have slept in.  Luckily, I have travelled in the winter enough times to be totally okay with sleeping under my jacket on the airport floor like a vagrant.

Ottawa fog

By the time I arrived in Calgary, it was a few hours past the time I had thought I would be arriving in Calgary.  Also, apparently Calgary was dealing with a full-blown blizzard.  I had heard about the snowfall earlier, but had paid no attention to it because, you know, I live in Nunavut and it's been snowing since August.

However, Calgary is not the Arctic and also, it's a much bigger city, so trying to get from one end of town to the other was a much more difficult feat.  So we altered our plans and I met up with my friend J for to grab a coffee at a suburban mall, not too far away.

I love traveling and exploring new cities, but I feel as though all of the suburbs in major Canadian cities look more or less the same.  They all have the identical-looking plazas with the same box stores.  In any major Canadian city, you can grab a coffee at the Tim Hortons or Starbucks, a burger at McDonalds, your various household supplies from the Wal-Mart. Maybe your grocery store is a Loblaws or a Safeway, different in name, but once you go inside, it's the same products available. Maybe you've got a St Hubert's, a Harvey's, or a White Spot.  The differences generally are not substantial. To really enjoy the unique features of a Canadian city, you have to get out of the suburbs, either to the downtown core or to the surrounding nature areas.

Unfortunately, I was having difficulty getting out of the suburbs, and back to the airport.  There were no free cabs passing by. I repeatedly tried to call all the cab companies, but their phone lines were busy the entire time.  I later found out that it was because the taxis themselves were insanely busy - there were calls for 200 cabs at the airport alone, for example.

So I wasn't going to be able to cab back to the airport. The time was ticking. The race was on. I was going to have to figure out Calgary's public transit system.  The worker at the mall's Guest Services gave me instructions on how to take public transit to the airport.  As it turned out, almost everything she told me was incorrect, but she did tell me to take the train.  Calgary has a train? I just learned this.

Yes, not only does Calgary have a train, but it also has a transit fare payment system that actually works, unlike some other major Canadian cities (cough cough, Ottawa, cough cough, presto). Calgary also has really cute place/street names that scream Calgary all over, like Deerfoot and Whitehorne. Time to take the train to Saddletowne.  Yes, I said Saddletowne. That was a real actual stop.

I got on the train, got off the stop where I was instructed, and looked for the next bus that I was supposed to take. The people at the nearby bus stop assured me that the bus would take me to the airport. The bus arrived.

"Does this bus go to the airport?" I asked, stepping on. 

"Yes," the bus driver replied, closing the door.  Thinking back, I have no idea why she said yes and let me get on the bus, because after this, she added, "This bus goes to McCallum, which is not the airport."

I was taken aback. "Is that near the airport?"

"No, this route doesn't go near the airport at all."

"Oh," I said, feeling completely confused. "I was told this bus goes to the airport."

"Yes," she said again, "I have no idea why this is called the Airport Route, because it doesn't actually go to the airport."

I got off the bus.

I was starting to feel as though Calgary was full of extraordinarily friendly people who were screwing with me.

The bus driver told me that in order to get to the airport, I had to get back on the train and go farther.  I don't know why I chose to believe the bus driver at this point, but why not? I got on the train.  I got off the train.  We were in the middle of nowhere.

I found the bus stop. The bus stop actually had a little airplane symbol on it, which could have meant that the bus would go to the airport.  Then again, maybe Calgary was messing with me, and that bus actually went to the aviation museum, or the Church of Scientology.

At that point, I saw a taxi driving by.  I abandoned my plan to conquer the public transit system and began to run after the cab, my arms flailing.

That's when this dude swooped in out of nowhere and stole my cab.  He let himself in and shut the door.  I stopped at the taxi, and before I could realize what I was doing, I yanked the taxi door back open.  The dude looked at me, a little astonished.

"Hi," I said. "You're going to the airport, right? YOU GOTTA LET ME COME WITH YOU."

There was either a look in my eyes or the tone of my voice that made the guy hesitate and yield. Maybe it's my superb lawyering skills.  I got in the taxi with him.  Steal my cab, will you? I'll show you. I'll show you by getting in the cab with you and paying for half of the taxi fare.  The dude actually ended up being a nice guy, and we had a friendly conversation for the rest of the ride.

Now that I was finally in the taxi on my way to the airport, I was better able to observe and appreciate the havoc that the snow was causing to the city of Calgary.  There were cars stuck in the middle of the lane everywhere, with drivers frantically pawing at the snow trying to dig their tires out, while other drivers waited impatiently.

"Did the snow just come this morning?" I asked.

"No, it snowed on Sunday," the dude replied. It was Tuesday.

"Are there not enough snow ploughs?" I asked, appalled that the snow, a foot deep in some places, was just allowed to accumulate in the middle of the road.

"Calgary doesn't really plough the snow," the dude remarked drily. "It just waits for a chinook to come and blow the snow off the streets."

The roads were bumper-to-bumper with people trying to move from one end of the city to the other. It didn't help that it was rush hour, a concept I had completely forgotten about while living in Nunavut. Cambridge Bay has a "rush minute" where you are stuck behind three cars at the stop sign on the main strip.  As a result, what should have been a two-minute taxi ride turned out to be a half hour, because we were re-routed due to accidents on the Deerfoot, Calgary's version of the 401 (of course, Calgary's version of the 401 would be called the Deerfoot).

Finally, I arrived at the airport, breathless, just in time. Ready to fly out. Except my flight was delayed.

Like I said, I've gotten used to sleeping on airport floors.