Come, Look on with Amazement and Wonder! For a Small Fee! Just Beyond the Curtain! Niagara Falls!

5am came and went.

6am came and went. 

I stirred around 7ish.

Josh said something.

I went back to sleep.

I got up at 8am.

Freshly terrified from a dream where I was supposed to ride a rocket out into space, I bolted out of bed in an attempt to make up for lost time. There was no point.

I had some quick-creation oatmeal that Mike had graciously given us while Josh had his leftover Greek Pasta. I was jealous. I felt bad because Gin had woken up several times from 5-7 to see if we had ever gotten up because she was going to make us breakfast. We were long gone though. Dead to the world.

Gin advised us on a different route to take as opposed to High Mountain Road because of the elevation and lack of sights. She told us some things that proved to work fine, and other things that didn't. The alternative route was an easy, calm ride with a large shoulder that never had us worried about traffic. However, it took us into the American side of Niagara Falls, which turned out to be a commercial and gut-wrenching travesty.

Josh and I stopped at a Dunkin Donuts about halfway to Niagara Falls and geared up for riding out of the country. We got our phones checked for out-of-the-country action and ate half a dozen donuts. Not bad.

We also met four separate gentleman in three separate interactions, curious about our baggage and bicycles. Jerry and Bob were extremely friendly retired locals that worked landscaping with a friend to kill the boredom they had from fresh retirement. Jerry grew up in Niagara but expressed, "...I don't even recognize the place anymore. It's gotten pretty commercial and ugly."

Another man approached the food place and stood in front of our bikes for a few seconds (noticable) gandering and then walked into the store. He bought two 24oz. cans of Keystone Light. Later, he came up to us and held a short conversation. He wanted to do a similar trip but with his small chihuahua dog. Could be done.

The last man seemed friendly enough, dressed in a fancy suit, eating with family. Outside, he pretended to be interested in our trip before handing us a brochure that he said was, "...the second most widely distributed magazine in the country." The words Jehova's Witness stuck out boldly on the front. His kindness and sincerity seemed phony. We tossed his brochures immediately after saying goodbye.

Not long after leaving the food place, we encountered a sign for Niagara Falls, encompassed in the horizon by an apocalyptic criss-crossing of power lines and smog.

It seemed the further we got into the city, the worse it got. I wondered if it had been a sunny day if I would have had a different opinion. My feelings were cemented as Josh and I got within about three hundred feet of the landmark and still had no idea how to find the damn thing. $35 for Maid of the Mist, $17 for Misty Magic, $1 for Observation Point. We finally found the Observation Point.

Children screamed, cameras flashed, cell phones clicked. The surroundings were anything but peaceful. God, I should listen to myself. I sound eighty years old. As much as I had to complain about the spot and as compelled as I was to hurl myself into the one hundred something ft. drop, the falls themselves were awing.

Canada had to be better. We went over Rainbow Bridge and into the other country without a problem.

The other side was less dirty but more wild. Niagara Falls, Ontario, Canada is an amusement park. It reminded me a lot of the Wildwood Boardwalk but much cleaner with less fights. Josh and I regrouped at a Subway, routing the way to Hamilton. The milage slipped out as we talked to our WarmShowers buddy; 50 miles. It was 3:45.

We decided to stay in Niagara Falls at a hotel for the day. 

Josh and I got a six pack of Canadian Beer and then went to the casinos. I stayed for an hour, watching people play. I really wanted to play Texas Hold 'Em but after standing and watching for over half an hour, I never did get the courage to join the game.

I returned to the hotel.

I tuned into one documentary on the television of which I was completely unaware of the premise. I watched for, maybe forty minutes, just listening to people talk of personal stories; inspiring stories, sad stories, and stories of tragedy. All seemingly unrelated. Then, out of nowhere the credits began rolling. To the side of the credits, a video played with a grown man and his father seated in two lawn chairs; a friendly environment.

"Imagine, if the birds only came out one day a year... would you stop everything and spend the day watching them?" the old man pondered.

A bird in the background kept persistently chirping as the man spoke. 

That's a Red-Winged Blackbird, I thought. I owed that one to my father.

The narrator said, "Oh look! There goes one now!"

The old man seated, pressed his hands against his knees, wearily stood up from his chair and squinted up toward the sky.

"That's a Red-Winged Blackbird!" the narrator said.

The old man turned to him, "How did you know that?" he asked.

I smiled... and may or may not have cheered a bit to myself, alone in the room.

I am learning things, however small.