i will tell you something, a story. it's a true story and it happened to me when i was in canada. it's a love story and it ends in a tragic comic farce, much like most of my love affairs, it is riddled with the surreal and the bizarre, it is my life in one short moment. a metaphor, you will laugh out loud and then you will feel something else....

i was young, travelling around america and canada, i made my own way up north hitching and meeting renegades, living rough, stealing food from restaurants, picking up nickles and dimes from passing strangers, until i reached montreal, where some family lived.
my aunt joan was a professor at mcgill university, she specialized in first people culture, she was an academic, head always buried in some interesting book, her husband dan was the same kind of man, a reader and a comic, he had a deep booming laugh and a peaceful calm nature, i blended in with the family perfectly, we would gather in the basement reading silently for hours, all three of us in our own worlds, it was beautiful.
my cousin also lived in montreal, he was working for an airline and was in charge of their security. one day he made me a proposition, i had no cash, nothing and it sounded exciting. he wanted me to work for him.
basically i would be the guinea pig, testing the security of all the staff involved in the airline, he would train me and teach me what to do and i would go out and do it, we would be testing the integrity of security system. he did mention there would be risk involved but i would earn a ticket to anywhere i wanted. so i agreed.
i was given a script, it was not a fixed script and i was allowed to improvise around it. basically i took a wad off cash into the airlines office downtown and booked a flight with about 4 major stops, ie, montreal, vancouver, rome, london i would pay with a wad off cash and ask some questions about the security and what kind of hand luggage i would be allowed to take on board. the questions were not to obvious and being a creative sort i used a lot of flirting techniques within the conversation, to make it quite natural. the assistants always enjoyed my exuberance, i hammed it up and left them smiling. so i would have a ticket, and on the day of the flight i would carry a large canvas bag which i would check in. inside the bag amongst my jeans, scarves and books was a small box filled with electrical components, yes remarkably like an explosive device. the idea being that when the airport security searched my bag they would discover the package and do their job, while a team of observers would watch from the wings. invariably security was called, sometimes they would grab me or push me around before the observers got there. one day i was at the airport bar waiting for my flight to be called. i 'd had a few drinks and started talking to this french canadian girl who was absolutely stunning. stunning i tells ya.
not only was she beautiful but she had this cute french accent and was really interested in me, telling me that she will show me around montreal.i smiled and she grabbed my face and kissed me.
then they called my flight.
'look wait here i'll be back in a moment.' i whispered.
then i ran down, grabbed my bag and joined the queue for the check in.
when they started opening up my bag they pulled out the small box and asked me what it was.
i followed the script, 'i don't know i never saw that before.'
as i pleaded my innocence about twenty swat guys stormed the room and encircled me with their machine guns pointed at me.
i put my hands up and they marched me away. i looked around for my cousin but as i looked above me i saw the cute canadian girl staring down at this horrific scene unfolding below her. i was led into a small room and then my cousin appeared.
by the time i made it back to the bar my girl had gone.
that's the way it goes i guess but i will never forget her face, the look off absolute horror and disappointment. the sadness in her face, i could almost hear her heart breaking. and that's the way it is with me and girls, good intentions, the road to hell.