Prince Rupert Weirdness Flashback

Prince Rupert is a border town. And it’s in border towns where the Weird goes down.

I pulled into PR early, I had stayed only a few hours away and having slept well and early, I got up early and hit the road. I found a small, sleepy village that seemed to have too many Chinese restaurants, nothing against Chinese restaurants (Chens), and very few Chinese people.

Half the town looked dead, and the other half, very much alive, with both halves very much mixed. I think towns like this thrive on the tourist trade that comes like a flood with the arrival of the cruise ships. It seems to leave the town in a state of half-open preparation, not enough local business to justify full time hours.

I got my ferry ticket (to Juneau, then on to Haines) and to kill time, decided I’d do some laundry. A small old guy with large thick glasses was tending to the Laundromat. He eyed me suspiciously, then at some point (I don’t remember what prompted it) he came close and launched into a monologue. “I told my sister, I sez, when I die, I’m coming back to haunt all the people who made fun of me! I’ll haunt all those people that called me names and made fun, and I’ll scare ‘em so bad, make their hair turn all sorts of colors… blue, red and green! And I don’t need no pallbearers, no sir. I’ll carry my own casket. And I want a rec. room down below so I can have a skeleton party! How bout that?”

I told him I thought it was the best idea I’d heard all day.

I left my clothes to the wash cycle and went to the restaurant next door, a place called “Rain”, whose graphic look was suspiciously close to a certain Vegas night club’s, and completely out of place in this town. The interior was night club Vegas-y too. Or at least Prince Rupert’s best shot, but I felt at home.

The restaurant was busy. The served some kind of Asian-fusion and had a nice bar. I sat down and ordered two happy-hour local pilsners from a friendly bartender. She was originally from PR, but had hitch hiked all around the Yukon and Alaska. Sick of home again, she was planning on heading to Whistler, or Nelson. She had no idea where the town of Nelson was, but it didn’t matter. Sounded familiar.

Two young dudes sat next to me at the bar. Turns out they’re Americans (from the lower 48) on a commercial fishing boat out of Ketchikan and had just pulled into town. They immediately asked if I had any weed. I said, contrary to my appearance (my beard and knit cap are putting me well into either logger or marijuana farmer-fashion territory), that I didn’t.

I asked about their jobs. They said some guys up there were making $35k in two months or so, but that they were on a sort of transport rendering vessel and were making around $10k for two months work. Still, they loved the work. And they wanted weed badly.

I went back and finished my laundry, then watched as three deer ate grass in a park under a totem pole. Actually, maybe this place isn't weird. Maybe it's exactly as it should be.