-Monday, April 13th-
I'm in Dieppe, France - a place famous for having some 907 Canadian soldiers slaughtered on its beaches during a failed World War II Allied raid to seize the port from German occupation. The plan was to land on the town's pebble beaches and charge 500m or so towards these tall white cliffs in the distance while their enemy sprayed machine gun fire down on them from above. Despite having tanks and air support (edit: my mom tells me my grandpa flew a plane in this) and British naval vessels to help out, the operation was doomed from the start. I mean, there was just no way they were getting up those fucking cliffs!The 20 of us who were gathering there this afternoon, had a much better plan in mind... We would land on the beach from the train station. Those with bikes (everyone but me), would ride north to the beach and set up camp, then forming smaller search-and-rescue parties to ride back into town to help locate large quantities of beer, wine and all the baguettes and fancy cheeses one could safely carry... while a handful of persons stand guard of all of our shit until my arrive.
I was to lay on the beach with a 40 of Kronenbourg 1664 and smoke endlessly when I got there; letting the cool ocean breeze and most perfect weather ever lull me into a calm and contemplative state for the few hours before we had to catch a ferry back to the U.K. The plan turned out to be a great success!
A couple hours in, after stuffing my face and drinking more beers, I really had to pee. So I left our party to wander towards a public toilet setup along the boardwalk, next to the jumping castle, and a half dozen ice cream and souvenir shops. Along the way I stumbled upon three boys who were sitting on a small 2-ft wall next to the road and dressed in Canadian Cadet uniforms, so I decided to partake in Patriotism for a change and say hello...
Me: 'Hey dudes, where you from?'
Them: 'Canada.' Not looking me in the eyes.
Me: 'Yeah, me too. But where are you FROM?'
Them: 'Milton.' Still not impressed.
Me: 'Cool. I'm from Toronto, but I've lived in Wasaga Beach, Scarborough, Pickering... What are you guys here for?'
Them: 'Our regimen is on a trip. We're training.'
Me: Pointing to the cliffs. 'Really... so are they making you climb those ridiculous cliffs over there?' (...hahaha!)
Them: 'No...' Not wanting to appease my playful comradery.
Me: 'Alright dudes... well, I've gotta pee. Have a good time!' Then leaving to go pee.
Them: 'Sure. Bye!'
I was thinking after the exchange, 'What the fuck kids?!' The one time I outstretch a Nationalistic-hand these little 11-year old meat heads have the nerve to shoot me down because they''re all too cool for school?! Never again!
* * *
It took me until later that night before I realized just how odd I must have seemed to them - some random moustachioed drunk in sunglasses, coming up to them with a tallboy and cigarette in his hands, drinking, smoking, and wanting to hangout. In hindsight (and in their coddled defense), I must have looked like a giant fucking creepo!!
But that's what France does to you I guess...
[to be continued..]
