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A plague unto mankind.

A plague unto mankind.

Yeah, that’s right, sadists.

And if you live in Kitchener/Waterloo, you are a masochist on the order of someone that carries around their own custom-fit restraints in their trunk.

I have never encountered a place so un-navigable as KW, and I’ve navigated the Swiss Alps.  My wife and I tried to get to Warrior Field, the home of the Waterloo Warriors football team, in order to catch their game against the Queen’s Gaels (please don’t ask me why; I hate all sports), and once again the KW beat us black and blue and made us call her “Mistress.”

It started out badly with the directions from the University.  I quote:

Follow 8 West to 7 East (an expressway called the Conestoga Parkway). Be sure to take the exit for 7 East, not 7 West.

Do not exit on 7 East.

Then why the bloody hell is it called the 7 East exit if I have the option not to take it after I’ve already taken it?  Is it the exit Schrodinger took right before he came up with that thing with undead cat?  (My theoretical physics is a bit hazy.)

Conestoga Parkway becomes 85 North (formerly 86).

What council allows a motion like this to be passed?

KW Councilman 1: I move that we change the name of road 86 to road 85.

KW Councilman 2:  Reason for the motion?

KW Councilman 1:  People are starting to forget that it used to be called 85a North.  We need to drive up the confusion level again.

KW Councilman 1:  Makes sense to me.  I’d like to tack on a rider to that motion, whereby we close all but two roads into and out of city.  That should create gridlock every day of the week.

I can almost hear the riding crop snapping from here.

We did ultimately make it to the field, but it took us half an hour of wandering through downtown Waterloo and the campuses of no less than seven other post-secondary institutions.  (Besides Laurier, there are scores of Christian colleges around there.  We passed through the Lutheran one and two of the Anglican ones, and I’m fairly sure we skirted the edges of a riot between those for and against the transubstantiation.)

Things didn’t get any better when we got to the game.

Halfway through the first quarter, a raving lunatic came and sat with us.  He kept yelling at the ref that the man owed him money, after which he would elbow me in the ribs and say, “Eh?  Eh?” with his eyebrows raised knowingly.

And do you know why the man was crazy?  The damn roads!  He even said it.  “I can’t believe I drove 3 hours to get here!”  Then he yelled at a flock of seagulls, took off his left shoe, and used it stomp at the ants he claimed were eating his eyes.

I hear you, crazy man.  I hear you loud and clear.

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