Scratch Prince Rupert off the list of places I’ve never been.

SeaFest 2010, Prince Rupert’s 100th birthday, was celebrated on the 2nd weekend of June 2010. And as if a hot dog eating contest, a 1000+ seat hockey arena-turned-beer-tent and a Fleetwood Mac tribute show at The Performance Art Center wasn’t enough, the crazy Prince Rupertians arranged for a Comedy Show at the Casino. And what do you know; I was one of the Comics sent to the call.

We were flown up in a Dash 8, the first propeller flight of my life, which in hindsight indeed wasn’t a death trap. When you land in Prince Rupert, you actually land on an Island across the bay from town. I’m sure there’s a reason, likely the need to ensure travel is as slow as possible. Once the plane lands, everybody – everybody – gets on a bus that sits out front, the bus goes to the boat, the boat takes you to Price Rupert, and on your merry way you go.

The Bus sat for an hour for no reason detectable to witnesses. Off to the ferry we went for a relaxing trip across a beautiful northern British Columbian Bay. Of course, the Bus broke down on the boat, and we were loaded into yet another bus sometime later, and taken downtown.

Once dropped of, we (for I was with two other comics, Toby Hargrave and Damonde Tshcritter – great, funny guys the both of them) realized we didn’t know where we were staying. After a brief misadventure that included laughter and scornful looks from a front desk clerk, we were able to contact The Casino, who apologized profusely for not having met us at the Bus Terminus. They would send someone ASAP.

And they did. Within minutes, a van pulls up and the kind gentleman whose name eludes me now hushes us into his van for the ride to our hotel, which happens to be, honestly, across the street. I could see the door from where we stood.

The show itself was not the kind of show to right home about, or necessarily even blog about. It was in a long room. Like a long square. The stage, naturally, was in the worst possible place, the sound was off and there were windows streaming in daylight – perfect for Show Biz. I had angry meathead’s utter mild threats and surly energy my way, so I knew, at least, that I was on my game.

The next day, as we waited for the School Bus to take us back to the airport ferry, the shore was alive with feats of amazement in celebration of Price Rupert’s Birthday. Planes flew low, fastly; boats circled, loudly; I watched, fascinated. I was honored to witness the celebration of this city’s (town?) Centennial. How lucky was I to be here, of all places in the Universe, to help celebrate this with them my rape jokes. I vowed then and there to put Price Rupert on the list of places in which I will one day outdraw a Fleetwood Mac Tribute Band. On to the next one…
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