No Escape

Dope City once had something I regarded as its best quality: it was easy to get the fuck out of. Not so much any more.

Been nearly a generation since you could fly out without spending far too much time and money doing so.

The ferries to Canada's 11th province require similar amounts of patience and money to make an escape.

Despite a billion dollars in improvements to the highway north to go visit Gene Simmons it remains clogged as an Indian train station.

The highway to the east is generally more clogged than an Indian train station's loo.

The only remotely convenient way out of Dope City left are the train that takes you upriver to the east and drops you near my place. No one does that unless they are coming this way for a weekend Bible retreat.

If, as I predict will happen under our new government's watch, the rail line which too passes near my place re-opens after being closed to the public for much longer than I have been alive, opportunities to become better acquainted with your Bible (and, to be fair, some excellent bicycling routes) will have more than doubled as the southern rail line ends much further to the east.