Niagara to Catawissa, PA …and Wait, is That BBQ?

Well, so yesterday was a travel day and the night before we hopped over the border to check the Falls out from the Canadian side. A few of our friends who knew we were at the Falls have mentioned that it’s prettier over there. So we decided to take a look to see if they were right. Okay, I’ll have to say this, they have it set up a little different on their side, and you get a different view, but prettier? I’ll let the HB be the final decider on that.

We hung out on the north side of the border for a few hours. The HB got to see her fireworks and McCroc set out in search of some rubber shoes with maple leafs on them. Once the HB had seen her fireworks show, and McCroc was satisfied that he’d gotten a good deal on shoes, we headed back over to the good ol’ US of A.

For some reason, I always get nervous when they start peppering me with questions at the crossing. It seems they're always trying to trip me up. I know that I know the answers. It’s like the pop quiz that my middle school algebra teacher, Mr. Miyata used to drop on us. I knew what he was gonna ask us, but I still broke out in a cold sweat.

“What’s your nationality?”

“Uh…Los Angeles — I mean, American!”

“Well, which one is it?!”

“I DON’T KNOW!!!” Arrrgh, the pressure got to me, and I fainted. The HB had to handle the rest of the inquisition.

“What was the purpose of your visit?”

“To see the fireworks.”

“What’s wrong with the fireworks here?”

The HB wasn’t even flustered. She answered him back as quickly as he asked, “Nothing, I’d just never seen Canadian fireworks before.” Then she started her own interrogation, “Why are you so fat?” “Did your momma dress you this morning?” "Do you think people find your nose hair attractive?"

At first she had him on the ropes, then he regained his composure, and said, “Hey, I’ll ask the questions here.” The HB, very satisfied with herself, sat back in her seat, grinning from ear to ear.

I regained consciousness just in time to hear him ask, “Do you have anything to declare?"

I pointed a thumb toward the McCroc-ster and said, “He bought crocs.”

The ICE agent scoffed at McCroc, tossed our passports into my lap and told us to “move along.”

Whew! Back on American soil. I thought I was gonna have to learn to speak French.

Before we hit the sack, the HB put out the edict that we were rolling at eight. All the text messages came back affirming the departure time. I decided that she was going to make the schedule from that point forward. Last year, it was just McCroc and every morning all I heard was whining from him, “Why so early? I thought we were on vacation. Blah, blah, blah.” This year, the HB says it, no complaints from nobody.

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Travel day. Off to Catawissa, PA and Rohrbach Farms. We stopped there last year, and although off the beaten path a little, you gotta roll through and say hi to Denise. It’s her family farm and her husband Dan, cooks some of the tastiest BBQ. I don’t think the Crew’s Engineer, the Professor, believed McCroc & I when we told him this. But he’s a believer now. Dan & Denise had to leave right after we arrived, because he was catering in the VIP tent for Walker Hayes. You’ll know exactly who I mean when you Google him.

Anyway, we got our peach jam, peach milkshakes and BBQ, then slid back toward the RVs where the Crew’s Science Officer and Engineer took up Al Bundy-style positions in their respective easy chairs, and started sawing logs.

Well, next stop, three days in DC. Let’s go!

Drink ‘em if you got ‘em!

One band, one sound

#coffeehousechronicles