The Quest for Fergus mac Roich

This is a tale of the perilous journey to a land far away to return Fergus the King to his land.  This is not for the faint of heart.

The Quest began in rain, a bad omen, past customs, into Canada, up to the strange city of Montreal.  Once that city of iniquity was behind we stopped to re-fuel, a very bad decision.  There by the fuel pump were 2 teenage boys making out.  Bob quickly realized it was a diversion, locked the doors after getting out to pump the fuel.  But yet another problem, in the land of Canada, the pumps never work.  The muslim female attendant came out and she could not get it to work either.  Finally the two teenagers stopped kissing and left and the pump worked, some magic the gays have on pumps.  We paid by debit card, the worst mistake of the quest.

We continued our Quest with the realization that this was going to be one perilous journey.  We stopped again for fuel at another station where the pumps don’t work and many men were holding hands and kissing.  Bob thought this is the queeriest land ever and he almost fainted from all the gayness..  This time when the debit card was put in and it came back “shred this card, arrest these people and kill them.” We paid in cash and hurriedly left before they could capture us.  Our cell phone would not work.  We knew we were in the quest of a lifetime.

Getting closer to Toronto, filling tired, we must have accidentally offended the thunder beings in this strange land.  It rained like a cow peeing on a flat rock and we were forced for the first time ever to pull over and wait in a gigantic thunder storm.  Such peril we had never seen.

Finally the storm passed and we were close to our destination of Scarborough.  Such a lovely sounding village, picked because it had the number 1 German restaurant in the area.  Little did we know that our journey was to take a seemingly very bad turn.  Apparently, “Scarborough” in Canadian means “Crazy third world ghetto.”  When we got off the highway we noticed that there appeared to be a number of multiculturals driving cars.  The check in was uneventful, the hotel very nice, but when asked the pakistany front desk woman smiled when she gave us directions to our restaurant.  I knew there was to be more peril ahead.  When we tried to pay with credit card, it was rejected.  Our cards had all been canceled by our bank, fearing someone stole them and went to Canada.  Bob, always fearing this will happen to him somewhere embarrassing had brought enough cash to sustain us for a year in Canada, so we avoided this peril and laughed.

Being very hungry we cleaned up fast.  Driving to the restaurant, the neighborhood continued to deteriorate rapidly, high rise ghettos like in Chicago, lots of very scarey people drinking beverages out of paper bags.  We could not find our restaurant at first and had to turn around.  “What peril have I got us into,” lamented Bob.  Barb saw a sign for Bavarian something and we turned into a very scarey looking parking lot called “Once upon a time in a land of hate and crime.” A car license plate read “baaad 1” Thinking fast Bob took pictures in case we were did not return, maybe the camera would be found to help solve our murders.

“The Little Bavarian Inn” promised “German schnitzel and much, much more.”  As we entered with the knowledge we may never return, we wondered about the “much, much, more.”  The inside was clean and neat with very authentic Bavarian decorations,  Maybe this will be alright we thought.  Then a very pregnant Indian woman with nose ring and dot on her forehead came to greet us.  Sensing the peril immediately, Bob asked for the bar and said we only wanted a beer.  But there was no bar, and we were seated in the restaurant alone.  Just like in Animal House, Bob said ”We are going to die.”

The India woman brought us 2 beers and we asked for the check.  As we drank the beers quickly we were vigilant and then……more peril.  A large India man, dressed like a very clean, neat chef came out to greet us.  He said he was very very sad as his team had lost the futbol game.  What manner of treachery is this I thought.  We spoke for a while and then he politely excused himself.  “Run for the door” I quietly whispered to Barb, but too late, the trap was sprung.  In through the door came several members of the lufftwaffe with their frauelines.  The chef greeted them in German, some were dressed in the soccer team fan shirts.  There was to be a celebration for Germany’s defeat of Spain in the European Soccer finals.  We decided to stay for the festivities, and glad we did.

We had the most authentic and delicious German meals since we lived in Milwaukee.  Barb had cabbage rolls, coffee, sauerkraut, and fried potatoes.  I went schnitzel, spaetzle,  and red cabbage and many Erdinger Dunkel biers.  We laughed with the waitress later and said we were concerned when we came in.  “Thing are not always what they seem,” she smiled.  We knew we had learned the lesson of this part of the quest.

Back to room, pass the Hindu Markets, falafel joints, check cashing store and high rise  ghettos.  Arriving to our room.  We put on the TV, and we discovered that we had inadvertently arrived in Toronto, on Queer Day : one million homosexuals staying in the city of Toronto for the largest gay parade in the history of the world. The interviews on TV were hilarious.  And we laughed until we cried at the men dressed in see-through Marie Antoinette costumes and old gay guys in one piece bathing suits and parasols, what manner of city is this, we thought.  Then while flipping the channels we came across a replay of the Germany versus Spain Euro cup soccer final.  It wasn't as much fun without beer, but we watched the game anyways.

We quickly fell asleep.  A familiar ring awoke us, the cell phone which had stopped working along the road, sprang to life, a miracle.

Barbara quickly reached for the phone and screamed in delight, "it's Dilla." 
"Good man," I said, " he's looking out for us."  It was good to hear Tom's voice.  We told him about the perils we had been through and he  wished us good luck on our quest.  We told him we would continue to remain vigilant.

We slept with one eye open at night, for we feared are Jeep may not be there when we awoke the next morning. We were up early and on the road.  Apparently Toronto is a rather large city, and it took us several minutes to get through it. Many of the homosexuals were also leaving at that time, all seemed to be going well.  It was a short five-hour drive, and then we hit customs waiting over an hour on the biggest bridge I had ever seen in my life with the wind blowing the car around.  The Port of Huron and bridge goes over the most southern portion of Lake Erie and it is enormous.  With my fear of heights and my palm sweating Barb tried to console me  as we listened to the XM radio and discussed names for dogs.

Finally, we were back in the United States. Route 69 in Michigan reminds you of 1950s America.  Finally we made the turn off the highway.  We were too excited to stop by the hotel and went directly to the beautiful small farm where the new litter of Great Danes were kept. Stephanie and her husband could not have been any nicer. Fergus, and his littermates were asleep, and we waited patiently until they get up Stephanie let out of her crate to and she immediately ran to Barb and gave her a big kiss.  So I knew that decision was over.  We played with her  and then went back  to our hotel room.  The people at the desk were very very nice, brought us to our room, which was close to the rear door of the motel.  We changed and got ready to go out for dinner.  But before we wanted to go and spend more time with the dogs, we went back to the farm and spent about half an hour playing with them and walking through the fields.  Than being starved, we decided to make a track to the land of  Frankenmuth and home of the Bavarian Inn.

Little did we know, as we as we drove the hour to Frankenmuth that we were about to have the experience of a lifetime.  Out past a long series of cornfields, seemingly in the middle of nowhere is the most beautiful quaint and this little German town you can possibly imagine.  I knew we were in a very special place.  When the first large sign I saw said: “Free admission, free bratwurst and free beer”, I knew we had arrived at our destination, every day is Christmas Eve there.  Everyone there is your grandparents, and it's great food and great beer.  I knew there was some place in the world like this, but I could never find it and now I have.

We chose to eat in a smaller restaurant , Zender’s, famous for its all-you-can-eat chicken dinners.  Barber had whitefish, and I had pork schnitzel.  They had beer by the pitcher, and we sat in a cozy booth which had been there since the 1800’s.

To start they bring out a relish tray with liver pate, t and vegetables spread, cottage cheese, rye bread and strawberry jam.  Next came a bowl of chicken noodles soup.  Barber's whitefish was delicious, and my pork schnitzel had a wonderful flavor.  The beer was cold and served in pitchers, another weiss dunkel.

Leaving the restaurant, we walked around, and at that time, the glockenspiel rang.  It was six o'clock.  It told the story of the pied piper.  We walked around the area of horse-drawn carriages, smiling Germanic faces and knew we had been to the Mecca for Anglo-Saxons.

We drove the hour back to the farm and picked up the dogs.  And, they did all right in the hotel room.  There were no messes.  We tried to get up early, but didn't leave until seven.  As we left, we could tell the peril was over.

The drive home was uneventful.  We stopped at an A & W root beer for our only meal.  The customs officials were very nice, and commented on how lovely the dogs were.  We got back to our house at 10 o'clock on Tuesday, knowing we had had completed a very successful quest.

So, now, introducing Fergus mac Roich, “Gus.”

Gus is a pissah, and lives up to his name.  Very active, fierce temper, wants things his way, but very affectionate, cute and loving.

And his consort, Karma.

Karma is a very sweet, easy going girl.  She has much of the same blood lines as Gunner.  But at night she turns into a Jaguar Warrior.  Very vigilant and where she hears people walking by, she lets out the scariest bark.  She was out with us by the garden and some people walked by and she went nuts barking, ran down to my car and they took off running.  She was so proud of herself when we told her how great that was, all full of herself, puffed up.