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

I bought a car for no real reason.

When I was 19, I bought a '93 Oldsmobile Cutlass Ciera. Needed to. HAD to. Was his true? No. But for some reason, I got it into my head that I needed a car, so I bought one. This car specifically, needed to be bought as when I was a kid, my mom owned this type of car. Why did that matter? I don't know. But I wanted THIS car. This type of car. So I looked for one, and found it. Sixteen hundred dollars for this thing. Bought it. 

"Sixteen hundred dollars for a car that's twelve years old and that I don't need at all!? Sweet!"

I'll start from why I didn't need this thing. At the time I bought this car, I was living in my friends closet. True. I'll get into more of that story another time, but basically my last year of high school, I needed a place to stay. My friend asked his mom, and she agreed to let me stay there. Pretty crazy. So, I was sleeping in his closet. Not like closet, closet, but doors off, bed in closet, head in closet, closet. With that, I for sure didn't need a car. Getting my own place should have been a higher priority. Having my own room and a closet for clothes instead of sleeping should have been at the forefront. 

"Hey, man. You're staying at a friends. You gonna get your own place?"

"Meh, maybe. First I have to get an automobile, a PS2, and an outdoor pool. I figure that other thing out later."

Another reason I didn't need this car, was that I was actually working at my friends dads warehouse, and his dad picked us up everyday for work. Everyday. No problem at all getting there. And still, for some reason, I decided I needed this car. 

"Hey, you're buying a car. You need it to get to work and back?"

"No. Not at all. It's actually going to be way more of a hassle for me, but I'm doing it!"

I'm a stubborn weirdo sometimes, so when I got it into my head that I wanted and needed this car, I bought it. I found it in the paper, called the number, and went to the house to see it. It looked good, but this is coming from a nineteen year old who knows absolutely zero about cars and just wants to buy one. I saw it that night, drove it around the block, and loved it. It was still sixteen hundred dollars though, so I got nervous buying it. The woman called me the next day.

"So, you want to buy the car?"

"I'm not sure. I don't know if I have sixteen hundred right now."

"Well how much do you have? I trust you. Give me what you have now and give me and you can give me the rest later."

Right here I should have said, 'well that doesn't make sense. The car must be in terrible shape. Good day, lady.' But I didn't. I said, 'I'll take it!'

I pick up the car with my friend who's closet I was living in, and decided that the first song that came on the radio would be the cars song. That song, was The Hollies 'Long Cool Woman'.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1l0xpkk0yaQ

Which, thank jesus. It could have been ANYthing. Could have been 'Pictures' by Kid Rock. I like that song, but as a cars theme? 

"Alright, guys. Ready to get nuts? Let's start this road trip with the beast!"

*Presses tape into tape deck*

"I put your picture awaaaaay, sat down and cried todaaaaaay.'

"..... Can you take me home, Nathan? I'm feeling sad for some reason."

From then on, the car was referred to as the long cool woman. Which was great, because it's not small. It's a four door family sedan. I had so many ideas for this car. I wanted to lower it. I wanted to tint the windows and paint it black. I wanted to put rims on it. I was 19. I wanted to do all the stupid things that are done to cars. And I was still sleeping in a closet!

"Hey Nathan. You going to sign a lease on a new apartment so you don't have to wake up looking at clothes above your head?"

"Nope. Going to get spinners on this thing from the 90's. Who needs their own room? They spinning!"

This car, being from '93, only had a tape deck. So I bought a tape to discman converter, and velcroed a discman to my dashboard. Dead serious. When I wanted to change the CD, either the person in the passenger seat had to change it, or if I was alone, had to stretch over when I was stopped at a light to get some different songs going. At the time, most different songs meant Mike Jones. Don't care, I love Mike Jones, and I won't pretend that ASAP Rocky didn't take tons of sounds from him. Either way. I loved this car. Just loved it. But it didn't take long for it to start falling apart.

First, the power steering went. I went over a bump, and somehow that cut the power steering cord. Power steering fluid just poured out, and the steering wheel started to seize up. You ever drive a car without power steering? It's like driving a ship on land.

"Avast! Thar be the gas station. Start pullin er into the dock, we're gonna pillage the potato chip aisle. Yar!"

Another problem with this car that I couldn't know at the time I bought it, was that the gas gauge didn't work. It would only work up to half, and then below half you would have to guess at where you were at. This sucked MANY times. I never knew where I was gas wise. Playing Russian roulette with myself.

"Oh, man. How far can we go? It's below half! Way below or like a quarter tank? No damn idea! Turn that Mike Jones up!"

Twice I completely ran out of gas. Once was coming down a hill, and seriously and thankfully, at the bottom was a gas station. I was barely able to pull in there. Second time was on my way to work at 7 am. Pulling out of a parking lot, the car completely died on in the middle of the sidewalk. I was half way in the street, and half way in the parking lot. Had to call a friend to help me push it, then walk to a gas station to fill a can. This part of the car was never fixed.

Didn't know this either when I first bought it, but the brakes were complete trash. Going down a hill once, (most of the issues were on a hill) the brakes just started grinding. Sounded like metal on metal. I was with a friend and I went right to Canadian Tire. Best idea? No, but I was nineteen and clearly didn't care about money at all.

"You can buy these chips for two dollars."

"Here's five, keep it! I'm over paying on car repair, why not everything!"

I was with a friend of mine and told him that I would be alright with any price, as long as it wasn't a thousand dollars. Just then a Canadian Tire employee came out.

"Who owns the '93 cutlass?"

"That's me."

He sits down beside me, and said, 'It's going to cost you a thousand dollars to fix those brakes."

My friend thought was hilarious, started laughing and ran away. I told the guy that I didn't have that, and he said it would be minimum four hundred to fix it. So I paid him four hundred, they fixed the brakes, and me and my friend drove to the casino. I did not win that money back.

If I knew anything at all, when I was bought this car I would have checked the tires. Would have looked at them AT ALL. I didn't, and that came to bite me one day. The tires on this car, were bad. Bad bad. I was driving once, and a front tire exploded. Crazy because that day I had driven EVERYwhere. I had driven people home, I had been on a highway! Not where it popped though, thankfully, and seriously, happened on a side street while I was going down a slight hill. This car was not good on hills. 

"Where do you live? Down there? Can't do it in this chariot of bustedness. She can't handle going down."

I ended buying brand new tires, and the car felt great. At this point, I had put more into the car than it cost, and I still, in no way, needed this car. Brand new tires on a  car, and my bed was a broken futon in a closet. Ridiculous. 

"You have your own car? Sweet. Your place must be great."

"My place is someone else's place. And my room is a room in someone else's room.... Let's stay in the car."

At the end of the day, this car cost me thousands of dollars, with repairs and everything, and when I moved to Toronto I sold it for a thousand. Someone bought it for parts. I had had this car for about seven months. That's it. Seven months with the long cool woman. Still loved that car though, and even though I didn't need it, I'm happy I bought it. 

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