Vacationing is hard.

I went to Orlando to visit a friend last week. It was the first vacation I had taken in five years. That means, in the last ten years, I've been on two vacations. I don't BELIEVE that's what regular human beings do. Regular people try to go on vacation once a year or something, right?

"Hey, it's February again. Let's get the hell out of here!"

"But we went away last February."

"... Yeah. That's what I said. Whatever. Stay here. I'm out. Peace, not vacationing loser!"

The last vacation I went on was to Jamaica. I had just taped a half hour special for Canadian television. I have to add the 'Canadian' part because people in America looking at this need the context. 

"He filmed a half hour special? Huh. I didn't know that. He's doing it! He must really be moving up the.... oh. In Canada. That's like filming a half hour special in Idaho FOR Idaho. I ALMOST texted him 'congrats'."

That had just been filmed, and I had worked really hard on it. For about four and a half years straight, everyday, doing shows. So I thought, with the money I made from it, which was Canadian millions, I'd go on a trip. That, and also my girlfriend was like, 'You know before you I used to go on vacations all the time. All the time! We're young! What the hell are we doing?!" 

So we went. Great time. Then, a year later, I moved to New York, and, same as Toronto, just did shows every night for years. A friend of mine has been working at Disney in Orlando for the last year. Kept asking me to come down and visit. Finally booked it, and went down. 

I say vacationing is hard for many reasons. One, it's almost impossible to get away from people. When you vacation, most times it's because you just want to chill. You spend time at work around people, getting to work around people, going to bars and such around tons of people. You just want to chill for a couple days away from go go go. The only people that really get to vacation that way are Richard Branson and other billionaires. They can fly to islands where they are COMPLETELY ALONE. If regular people go to an empty island, there's some sort of SARS outbreak.

"Come down to Aruba for 'Bird Flu Bonanza' Days! You'll have an entire villa to your self because every one on the island is fighting for their lives in the hospital! For just twelve dollars a night, you'll find out what it's like to vacation AND run your own hotel. Get your own towels, make your own food, check yourself in ALL while wearing a surgical mask! No lines at the bar. Nobody in the hot tub. Hell, you'll even have the airport to yourself! 'Bird Flu Bonanza' days. Come experience an apocalypse while you even out that tan.'

Billionaires can go to an empty island that is GORGEOUS, no SARS anywhere. If people did show up, they can deal with it. 

"Mr. Branson, a family of six just landed on the other end of the island."

"Well, have them murdered and fill this kiddie pool with their life blood. My children will bathe."

"...."

"Don't you give me that damn look, Benniford. Have. Them. MURDERED."

ANYwhere regular humans are going to go is packed. Even the plane on the way there. Just jammed.

"Ladies and gentleman, this flight is VERY full today. We do not have enough room for your luggage, so just throw it up front and we will have it incinerated for you. Also, if you could fuse your left and right leg together, we can squeeze one more cheese head with a neck pillow on board. Enjoy your trip to Have Fun Trying To Relax!"

Growing up, my mom REALLY wanted to take me and my Brother to Disneyland. Every time a commercial would come on for it, she'd say that if she won the lottery, the first thing she would do is take us there. Lottery was going to be the only way to do it. So, never went there as a kid. As an adult, with my friend working there, took the opportunity. Found out why lottery would be needed. It's expensive to take a family a lot of places, but definitely here. For a regular family, I'd guess it takes YEARS to save the money to take everyone to Disneyland. Just hours and hours of being kicked in the head at your job for five days of being cooked in the boiling sun while you wait an hour and a half for a minute and a half rollercoaster. 

"Weeeee! Weeee! Ahhhhh! Ahhhh.... Oh. Done. Huh. Well, that was cool."

"Cool? That was cool? I worked doubles for two years for you to go on this. It better be goddamn better than cool!"

As well as the expense of the parks, hotels in the area can be very expensive. If you want to stay at a Disney hotel, which I'm sure a lot of families want to to get a full Disney experience or whatever, some of these can be six hundred, seven hundred a night. A night. Just to have a place where your toothbrush and clothes won't be used by the homeless. I don't know much, but I do know that if I go on vacation and spend six hundred a night on a hotel, the hotel IS NOW the vacation. I'm not leaving that room. I'm using everything that's in there. Every towel, cup, drawer, blanket. I'll open and close the curtains for hours. I'll FINALLY read the bible. 

"Huh. Look at this. This Jesus guy was alright!"

Interesting to go to Disneyland. If Walt was alive today, he'd see almost the exact same amount of smiling kids and families as crying families going through a divorce right in front of Goofy. Trip is so stressful and expensive families are just breaking down.

"You know what? Fine. Take the kids! I don't care anymore! We're done!"

Then a father will walk away with Mickey ears bouncing on his head. One this trip I went on a gator tour that was sweet. Forty minutes outside of Orlando, on an airport, out with gators in gator country. This was great, but another reason that vacationing is hard is that a lot of people you meet on vacation try to fit where they're from into the weirdest things. People REALLY want you to know what town they're from.

"Hey everyone, look over there. Gator."

"Oh, gator! We don't have this kind of thing in Plastic Bag, North Dakota."

... Yeah, of course you don't. Most people don't. That's why were here. You think people that see gators all the time are on these tours? Or vacation around them? Just say where you're from if you have to. You don't have to jam it in.

"Ah, The Incredible Hulk rollercoaster. We don't have things like this in Touch Yourself, Illinois."

We know! There's one of these! It's here! That's it! Then you have a to have a conversation about it.

"Oh, you're from Dust Storm, Arkansas? Nice. Hear it's nice this time of... Ah, god! You and I both know I haven't heard of it. And you're gonna say, 'Of course you haven't', and laugh to yourself that no one knows about it. I get it!"

Vacationing is also hard because it's gonna take a couple days to REALLY decompress from your regular life. Day three you're really feeling it, and day six you're outta there. All vacations should be an extra couple of days. If you have a week, it should be ten days. First three, you're just put in a decompression chamber.

"Okay, so put your bathing suit on, and slide right into this dark tunnel. We'll wake you up and throw you on the beach. You'll have a full five days of chill time. Watch your frisbee. I'm gonna lock this up now."

I'm going to try to make sure it's not another five years before I take some time off. 

Twitter @nathanmacintosh

Best Dancer In High School.

There was a point in high school where I was drinking a ton and was really depressed. I didn't really know at the time that I was depressed, but I wasn't in a good place. I hated going to school, just hated it. I was showing up to school hung over every Thursday. Me and some friends called Wednesday 'Wasted Wednesday'. I was going to improv classes, then meeting up with friends at a place we called 'The Bar.' The Bar was a flipped over fridge we found in the woods. Every single Wednesday, we'd meet at 'The Bar' and drink. I'd drink a full quart of rum to myself, then go to school the next day. I was going to school every Thursday like I had lost my job at the plant. 

"Nathan, you okay? You look terrible. The factory shut down?"

"No. 'Wasted' and 'Wednesday' sort of go together. That's it."

Every Thursday, the first class I had was english. At 9 am. I would basically be crawling in there. One day after class my teacher stopped me. 

"Nathan, I know you're showing up to class drunk."

"I'm not drunk. I'm hung over. And can you be little quieter? My head is going to explode."

I was in a bad way. One time in this class, I had my head on a desk trying not to spin or whatever the hell was happening, and a girl looked at me and said 'You're hot'. Now, had I not been hung over, my head pounding and this girls voice not destroying my fibre, I might have responded differently. But all of that happening, I said 'Fuck you.' That was my response. 'Fuck you.' Just awful. 

I was really down, and on a path to nothing good. I decided after grade 10 that I wasn't going to go to school for the first semester of grade 11. Just wasn't going to do it. Everyone told me that I'd never go back to school. Every single person told me that I'd never go back and finish high school. I knew that I would. I knew I would go back and finish school, I just needed to change some things. I took the time off of school, got a job, and quit drinking every single week. 

"Nathan, you okay? You look alright. The factory open back up?"

"No. I just decided to stop drinking like my wife passed away in a car accident."

I started to be in a better mood. I started to hang out with people who were fun, didn't need to drink and do drugs, and were into the same things I was. I started to think more positively. And I started to think about going back to school the next semester. Also started to think that I wanted to go back in a different way. I wanted to be that dude at dances. You know, THAT dude, the guy that had people circling him. The guy that was crushing it on the floor. Wanted to go back and be that guy. I remember walking around the dances before I stopped going to school, and I felt weird and out of place. I didn't like it. I would only try to dance with girls that I was friends with, and pretty much only slow dances. Then, 'the dude' would just start tearing it up. People would be excited. People would circle around, jump around and smile. 

So, I set out to do that. At the time I had started to really love Michael Jackson. I don't remember why, or really how it started, but I loved the man. I bought everything, and I'd come home after work and learn the moves in my mirror. I would dance to Michael Jackson, staring at the mirror, thinking of being the dude in school. This went on for months. Me working a fast food job, coming home, tossing on Michael and power dancing in my mirror. 

"Nathan, you okay? You look greasy and tired. The music factory start up again?"

"I'm started not to know what these comments mean. Please stop them."

After that full semester of working and dancing alone, I went back to school. Before a dance rolled around, there was a karaoke contest in the school. I signed up. Could I sing? Not at all. I hadn't come home after working a fast food job and sang in the mirror. So what did I do? I danced. I danced to Billy Jean. Had all the moves down. I was up there feeling great. I knew I didn't sing so I didn't think I was going to win, but I just wanted to perform. The contest winner was based on audience applause, and I won. I won a t-shirt I'm pretty sure. I was so excited. People were telling me how great it was. Dancing in my mirror alone like a nut paid off. 

"Nathan, you okay? You dance at night alone for the future enjoyment of others. You want a job at a factory instead?'

"I swear to christ, stop this."

Dances came around, and I became that dude. Well, one of the guys. There was another dude in my school who break danced. He was great. We would be the dudes at dances. People wanted me at dances. They'd come around, and people would ask me if I was going. Lots of people. I put on shows at school with another friend of mine who was a pop locker. I had a bunch of confidence and was having fun. I wasn't hurting anybody, mostly myself. Wasn't drinking or doing drugs. I was doing good in school. Having fun with just life. This went on for a couple years, and I was voted best dancer in my high school. Was I that good? No, but I was known. And I mean, how many people are even dancing in high school? 

Now, I didn't think that was thing that would upset anyone, but it did. There was someone in my school who hated that I was voted best dancer. They thought they could dance better than me. When they would see me in the hall, they would start dancing. Just stop mid conversation, and start dancing. 

"Yeah, you know, I'm probably going to go to that par..."

Then he'd see me and just start crushing. I knew he was mad at me, but I didn't get it. He wasn't dancing at school. I asked him once if he wanted to put on a show with me. We could both dance, entertain people. He just stared at me, then was like 'naw, man. I ain't into that.' Okay, well I tried. I thought that would be the end of it, but one time while walking home from the store, a guy came out of nowhere.

"Yo, you think you can dance better than my dude?"

It was winter time. I had a big coat on, was holding some gummy bears I had bought. 

"What? Who is your dude?"

"Yo, you serious? Yo, man, he don't know who you are!"

Then, also out of nowhere, came the guy who was mad I was voted best dancer. 

"You don't know who I am?"

"Yeah, I do man. I didn't know he met you. What's up?"

The other dude jumped back in.

"You think you can dance better than him?"

"Man, I never said that."

"Let's go around the corner and have a dance off."

This was actually said. This guy wanted me to have a dance off with his friend in the winter behind a bar. I'm guessing he'd be the judge? And this was exactly what I'd come up to him about in school! But do something like this in front of an audience, not in the snow behind a bar I used to go watch drunks fight in front of.

"No, man. I'm not doing that."

"Ahhh, look at that. He's scared to go around the corner with us because we're black and he thinks we'll rob him."

Not in anyway was that what I thinking. I was thinking 'it's cold. This is ridiculous. I'm going back to my friends house. Can I just eat these gummy bears.' Thought I'd run the show thing by him again.

"Dude, why don't we do this at school?"

"Naw, man. You scared."

Then, they walked away, and I walked away. We never had an interaction again, and I graduated soon after that. After school, pretty much quit dancing all together, and started doing comedy. In a lot of ways, should have kept dancing. Comedy does not NEARLY make women run like dancing does, and nobody has ever asked me to go behind a bar with them and have a joke off. There's no 'Step Up' movie about punchlines. 

"Yo, he can tell a joke? I bet he's good in bed."

None of that. But either way, for a little while, I was that dude.

Twitter @nathanmacintosh

Sibling Day.

I know. Sibling day is not a real day. It's an internet thing. But still, it made me think of some things. I have a younger brother. We look very similar. Same father. Same mother. Both of us have red hair and skin pale enough to use as wax paper. My brother is two and a half years younger than me. I was around for a couple of years before he showed up. I was the only child for awhile. I don't remember too much about it, but I'm pretty sure it was great. 

The Dust Buster - One day my brother showed up. I wasn't a fan. Now there were two of us? How the hell was this gonna work. I wanted all the attention. One night my mom was downstairs. I went to his crib, and took a dust buster to his head like an ECW match. The dust buster was sucking up his tiny hair, and he was balling. I don't know what I was trying to do, I just wasn't a fan of him. My mom came running upstairs to see why he was crying, and I hid the dust buster. 

The Reese Cups - I was in grade two, and my brother wasn't in school yet. I got off the bus home, and my mom said, 'Hey. I got you guys some reese cups. Alex has them in the room.' I went into our room, and my brother couldn't be found. No brother. I looked around, then opened up the closet. There was my brother, on the floor, eating all six reese cups. Weird look on his face. He was probably sick from all the chocolate. I'm pretty sure I started to cry. No reese cups for me. 

The Dinky Car - My mom drove us to the library once to drop off a book. I was five, brother was almost three. I had a little dinky car that I was driving on the door. A dinky car from the 80's. Just a pure piece of metal. My mom goes into the library, and my brother starts calling me a bum. I told him, 'Say it again, and I'm throwing this dinky car at your head.' He looks around super coy, then looks at me, 'you're a bum.' I hauled back and whipped this thing at his head. Bam! Hits him above the eye, and he bursts open. Blood is running down his face, and he's screaming. He's bleeding bad. Bleeding like he's in an ECW match. I run into the library. I tell mom that something happened. She gets to the car, and sees this complete mess, and I tell her that Alex was jumping around, fell, and hit his head on the door. We drive to the emergency room, and instead of stitches, the doctor glues his head back together. This surgical glue or something. As he's gluing the wound back together, the doctor glues his glove to my brothers head. My brother is screaming as this doctor is pulling on a glove that is stuck to his forehead. 

The Chin Explosion - When I was little, I had superman pajamas. They were great. They had a little cape attached to them. My mom asked me to take some towels up to the linen closet. I get to the bottom of the stairs, and start thinking superman in these sweet as pajamas. I tear up these wooden steps, wearing socks, and slipped. I come down directly on my chin. Bam! Opens right the hell up. Opens up like I'm in an ECW match. My mom rushes me to the emergency with my brother. We get there, and have to wait. I'm holding one of the towels I had been taking upstairs to my chin, bleeding everywhere. My mom asks my brother to take a dollar and get a ginger ale. He puts the dollar in, and no ginger ale comes out. So, my brother starts kicking the machine. Just booting it. Other people in the emergency room are cheering him on. 

"Yeah! Get it! Kick it!"

Ginger ale falls out. The emergency room cheers. My brother brings it over to me. 

"You need it, Nath."

The urine - My brother and I were really into video games growing up. Had just about every system over the years and spent countless hours playing and beating games. Majoras Mask came out for Nintendo 64, and my brother pretty much locked himself in a room for three straight days. Came out of the room, looking like he'd been to Nam or involved in an ECW match, and went 'beat it.' I was in there a day or so later with my girlfriend at the time. We were fifteen so it was pretty innocent. The room was dark, and there was a bottle of coke on the floor. I took a sip of it, and it was the strongest tasting thing ever. I thought, 'Maaaaan this is flat!' Because I'm stupid, I took another sip. Just another blast of hell to the mouth. THIS time I figure out what had happened. My brother, while beating this game, DID NOT leave the room to piss. Instead, just right into this coke bottle. My girlfriend is going, 'it's that bad? Let me try it!' 'No! No! It's awful. I'm getting rid of it.' I assume this was my brothers way of paying me back for the dinky car. 

The Clothesline - My brother and I hung out a lot when we were very little. By the time I was about twelve, I thought it was kind of stupid to hang out with my younger brother. Thought kids would make fun of me. Really stupid thought, but I was little. One time we were at my grand parents house. I'm pretty sure that we had been arguing a bit about some stupid brother thing. I went outside to get our clothes off the line, and my brother locked me out. I took his clothes, and through them on the ground. He let me back in. 

"Why did you do that? I was just getting out clothes?"

"You were? I thought you were going to do something bad to them."

Then he started to cry and said, 'we could have been friends again.' Kept crying. I felt bad about that at the time, and honestly, still hits me a bit now. He just wanted us to hang out again. Really dumb that I thought hanging with my little brother was stupid. 

The Porn - Rogers used to have a cable box. On that cable box, you could order porn. My brother and I were both in the age for porn. When I would order it, I would try to find things that sounded like actual shows or movies. 'Sopornos.' 'Forrest Hump.' That sort of thing. So that if I did get questioned, I could say 'I messed up! Was trying to get something else.' My brother? Not the same. Would just get ANYthing. 'Whores.' 'Super Whores.' 'You won't BELIEVE what these Whores are doing.' One day we were in our room, and our mom kicked in the door. 

'I just got a bill for four hundred dollars! Which one of have been ordering these dirty movies?!'

Me and my brother both say, 'wasn't me.' Our mom is LOSING it.

'None of you, huh? NEITHER of you ordered these skin flicks?'

To this day, 'skin flicks' said by my mom is the most disgusting thing I've heard. Both of us still did not own up to it. Our mom went on to call Rogers, ask them if there was anyway there was a mistake, was told that those movies were ordered from that our house, by our remote. No mistakes. My brother and I never talked about it, because we both knew we were wrong, and both thought we were the only ones ordering them. 

The brother - There are many other stories about many other things, but basically I love my brother. He's always been an inspiration to me even though he's younger. He's hilarious, an amazing writer, interesting, and speaks his mind. People think that I may be loud at times and talk a bunch, but I was always the quiet one between the two of us. I love my brother.