22 years ago, I arrived home in the wee hours on the morning of 9/11 .... after returning from a trip to Canada for a bit of walleye fishing. I was there with a group of ne’er do wells from some obscure internet site on the dark web. Once I arrived home from the Tampa airport, it was just a matter of hours before the whole world, as I knew it, changed drastically.

As it turned out, ol’ T-Dub and Marg almost ended up with a long-term visitor. No flights out, no rental cars, no busses … heck, it wouldn't have mattered, the border was closed anyway! Luckily, the rest of the group had earlier flights out. As dark as that day was anyway, it would have been even darker for a couple of Canuckian households if that infamous date had been one day earlier.

If it had been, the rest of the crew and myself would have been temporary residents of Canuckia. I’m sure there would have been a vote among the group to force Bucky on the Johnboy household and us normal people would have occupied the Whisky-Jack basement. Then again, upon second thought, I may have pulled rank and volunteered to replace Buckrub since that would have been more acceptable to John and Bev, as John and I were the only non-smokers in the group.

As far as Marg agreeing to take in all those other losers, I have a feeling they’d have ended up camping out back, next to the Dubber’s worm farm. There’s no way in Hell she’d have put up with all those Yankee renegades walking on her brand new kitchen linoleum.