I don't know where I heard that first, 'the wild blue yonder'. Perhaps in a comic book or an old western or something. No idea. Point is, 'yonder' was a place that wasn't Labrador City, and as much as I loved the place, at that point in my young life, it wasn't a 'happening ville'. It seemed stuck, or I was stuck, or something. I suppose as comfortable as living in my hometown was, I was in need of adventure. I was excited about 'Yonder'.
Yup. the adventure had started. The WW2 Flying Ace guy is true! Called himself the 'Rabbit'! I want to believe it was true. Anyways Dorval was a lovely little spot... in the dead of winter...frozen and bleak. The pub wasn't too far from the train stop that we were boarding the westbound Via Rail at 11:59 pm (I was and still am amazed that the train schedule was down to the minute). I know I slept on the train but I don't remember what time. I had my head laid against the window like I used to when taking the QNS&L out of Labrador, feeling the rumble and the buzzing of the rails. The train gathered speed as we left Montreal Island in the past and the lights shining outside in the snowbanks eventually disappeared, only occasionally interrupted by a rural crossing. The whistle blowing was a sign to open my eyes again and try figure out where we were, then drift away again. By morning everything would still be different!