VANSTONE:
How to capitalize on a reunion.
OTTAWA — I was under the impression that Ottawa was a cold, boring government town.
It turns out that I supplied the “cold” and “boring” — my wife can attest to that — but time spent in the nation’s capital was an absolute joy.
It took me 53 1/2 years to get here for more than a day. Back in 2007, I had zooped (is that a word?) in and out for a sports editors’ meeting, to which I contributed nothing, and didn’t even see Parliament Hill. Very poor zooping, I must say. Fortunately, I was blessed with another opportunity to visit Ottawa, where the University of Regina School of Journalism Class of 1987 held a 30-year reunion from Sept. 29 to Oct. 1.
I think the world of everyone in that class. I would not miss a reunion, regardless of the destination.
Ottawa was chosen for four reasons: (1) Happy 150th, Canada!; (2) The Saskatchewan Roughriders were in Ottawa for a Sept 29 CFL game; (3) Our other reunions had been in Regina, which is near Grand Coulee, so we decided to diversify; and, (4) I can’t remember the fourth reason, but I’m sure it was a good one.
While embarking for Ottawa, my expectations were high because of the wonderful people with whom I was about to share some priceless memories, along with an impossible number of laughs.
But I wasn’t sure what to make of Ottawa. I knew about the Rideau Canal, the Oscar Peterson statue and the Parliament Buildings, but I wasn’t teeming with excitement about the city as a whole.
Boy, was I mistaken!
I loved, loved, loved Ottawa. Every second of the six-day visit was something to savour. So were all the seconds. (Yes, I ate too much.)
We stayed in the ByWard Market district, which is full of cool stores and nice restaurants and interesting people. On one street corner, it seemed that someone was always playing jazz guitar.
At every stop, people were friendly — not cold or corporate or cranky or anything else beginning with “c.”
An ice-cream stand offered a grape milkshake, which added to the flavour of the city.
The skyline was picturesque, especially from a rooftop lounge.
And the hotel had cable.
The plan was to hang around in Ottawa for three days after the reunion, just to look around. It was an atypical smart decision by yours truly.
The Rideau Canal was amazing. A three-hour walk — I must have gone at least 19 metres! — was a highlight.
Another highlight: Visiting with Bill and Esther Hamilton, who recently celebrated their 70th anniversary. You will not meet nicer people. That explains why their fine son — former Regina Leader-Post colleague Ian Hamilton — is such an amazing person.
Another highlight: Spending time with the aforementioned statue, honouring the greatest musician of all time. Music was perpetually playing near the peerless pianist. One passer-by was so impressed that she started dancing.
Another highlight: Buying a new Denver Broncos hat, on to which the signature of receiver Emmanuel Sanders was stitched. I was so proud that I tweeted a photo of the hat — which is so stylish that Sanders himself pressed “like” when he saw the tweet.
Another highlight: Endless pizza slices from the take-out place near the hotel. Pepperoni, pepperoni, pepperoni!
Another highlight: The Roughriders held a walk-through on Parliament Hill. It was a suitably gorgeous day. I wrote a column but, really, it wasn’t work.
Yet another highlight: The Roughriders/Redblacks game. Ottawa led 17-0, only to collapse and lose 18-17.
After visiting TD Place, I can now say that I have seen a game in every traditional CFL city. I had been one city short since 1996, when I covered the Grey Cup at Ivor Wynne Stadium and crossed Hamilton off my list.
Walking toward the stadium, I felt like a wide-eyed kid instead of a wide-bodied scribe. There was only one problem: I had absolutely no idea where I was going. Hull, maybe, or perhaps Gatineau.
I woozily approached a lady at one entrance to the stadium and warbled, with all professionalism, “How do I, like, get to the, er, press, um, box?”
Instead of simply pointing me in the right direction, she said: “Come with me.” She then personally escorted me all the way to the elevator that led to the press box, going far out of her way to do so.
Her good nature typified the trip. It was perfect — absolutely perfect — and I wouldn’t change a thing ... except to lengthen the stay.
Thank you, Ottawa. It truly was a slice. Several slices, in fact.