An unlikely hero

Saturday night in Regina. It doesn't quite have the same ring as "Saturday night in New York/ Montreal/ Paris/ Cairo (insert favourite city here)". However, it was not only Saturday night but Cinco de Mayo day. Now most folk think this is the Mexican Independence Day. It isn't, but it is a big Mexican celebration day and being Texan, apparently Laura is justified in celebrating it. Not quite sure how that works but a common love of tequilla with the Mexicans is not to be argued with.

My vote for the Bushwakker's Pub as reviewed by the Lonely Planet for dinner was determined a winner as we both fancied steaks and beer. It was the oddest thing though when we walked in to the pub. The decor was the closest I'd seen to an Aussie pub since leaving home, the beer was 100% Canadian and they were having a Mexican-themed tequilla tasting night. I wasn't sure whether to look for an Akubra, fire a gun into the air with joy or to order a buffalo burger for dinner.

The table consisted of long, rough hewn log benches and seats and we scored a nice spot close to the beer fridge.

Soon after arriving, two blokes were seated near us, one, quiet, tall skinny and dark haired, the other, blonde, short and cheerful looking. We got chatting and Charlie, the blonde one was particularly interested in our story. Both guys were originally from Calgary and had moved to Regina in search of a better, quieter life. I also noticed that though they were happy to tuck into a decent steak, neither were drinking. Mormans? Actually no. Partway through the meal Laura capitulated and signed up for the tequilla tasting part of the evening.

Now, apparently I am a barbarian. Reason? Because to me tequilla is something that happens after you lick salt off your wrist and before the only time you would suck a lemon. Also, when pushed, you can clean flesh wounds or your bathroom with it. I was proved ignorant on this score. Although I didn't do any official tasting, I did listen to the MC on the microphone as he took the tasters through the distilling process and history of tequilla. There were approximately 5 types tried throughout the evening.

This of course presented Laura with a "letting go" challenge. After a beer and 5 shots of tequilla she would not be driving anywhere. It would fall to me on my cardboard, Wagga Wagga issued International Driver's Licence to be the designated driver. Our new friend Charlie, as it turned out, owned a taxi and he offered to follow me back to our digs if I wanted to drop off the car and join in the tastings. However, being a new friend and not an old one, we declined. So, I found myself for the first time in years, sitting on a single drink for the evening and watching my best friend become more talkative (if that is possible) than usual.

The joke is that this was all just after my first successful day of driving on the other side of the car (and road) on the highway by day. The challenge was to negotiate Regina on a rainy Saturday night. Ever the map-reader, Laura refused to sign up for the tasting and hand over her keys until she'd worked out a way back to our digs that involved nothing except 3 right turns (I have trouble making left hand turns, I always want to drive then on the left side of the road).

It turned out to be a great night. You can keep your Montreals and Vancouvers. We love Regina. The food was good, there was live music and traditional Mexican dancing and I learnt that there was as much to the process of an aged tequilla as there was to a proper scotch.

It is rare that a person engages in an act of true generosity, without expecting anything in return. Charlie and his friend left partway through the evening, exchanging numbers and promising to look us up if he ever came back to Calgary before saying goodbye. When an hour later we requested our bill, we found the guys had paid for our steaks, without saying anything or expecting anything in return.

We were both completely floored.

Of course we called Charlie and thanked him. He said simply, that he enjoyed our company and it was nice to chat with some "nice girls" on a Saturday night.

I successfully drove us back to the hostel with a rousing chorus of "Pirates of Saskatchewan" from post-tequilla Laura, who is much the same as pre-tequilla. I was hoping she would lose enough smarts to not tease me about my driving. Not so.

Revenge is sweet and the next morning Charlie texted us to ask us out to breakfast before we headed out of town. We jumped at the opportunity to see him again and repay his kindness. He came to the hostel in his taxi as we were packing up. Laura was all packed and her stuff in her car so I sent her out to talk to him while I dawdled upstairs over my packing, watching them from the window. I had a strong suspicion that Charlie was a little intrigued by Laura. I was trying to calculate exactly how much time to give them to talk without annoying the hungry hangover.

Well, Charlie was impressed. Some guys don't like independent women, for some, it's a "wow" factor. Laura carries a small-looking handbag. However, she has everything possible in it and true to Texan, she is a quick draw. It started to rain outside and as he tells the story, he offered for her to sit in the cab with him out of the rain. She replied, "No thanks" and before he could blink she'd produced a pop-up umbrella from her small hand bag, popped it and was standing under it in the rain. Apparently, he expected her to then tell him her real name was "Bond, Jane Bond".

We had a good breakfast together with some good natured fun poked at me. I was trying to explain Australian archiecture and how my parent's house is Federation-style. This apparently conjured up images of the Starship Enterprise as opposed to the 1900s. The Canadians celebrate their own Confederation.

We left Regina reluctantly and headed back to Calgary, driving from morning to evening on that Sunday. We stopped at Medicine Hat, (The Giant Teepee) and debated the poetic merit of the phrase, "To stop and pee at the Teepee" and made it home.

Our girls weekend was a success. No one in Calgary can now believe, even after reading these postings, that anyone could have that much fun in Saskatchewan and have a personality. But to my friend Laura, now champion of the Prairies and of small-breasted women everywhere I agree, "Flat is Beautiful".