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This week I will have the joy of seeing my 11-year-old nephew, actually my other half's grandnephew, and the boy's mother, who is my soul mate except for the fact she had the fortitude to quit smoking and I don't. The lad and I both understand the importance of Lego cities, and his mother and I understand that cooking is something best done by a restaurant. Thus, I'll be perusing Lego catalogs and eating decent meals for five days, praise the Sweet Lord.
But Uncle Uncle and Auntie Auntie have promised Daddy we'd be giving his son such a good time that his Little League baseball team could do without their star pitcher/first baseman/right fielder, because he'd be viewing the glory of Niagara Falls. (His father is busy building homes in New Jersey, so we have to do without him.) And I had made big plans to impress this child, not of my blood but of my heart, that this was a grand place. He has never seen the falls before, so he'll have some fun with that. I know the best places on Goat Island, from the Bridal Veil Falls to the Three Sisters Islands. (But why the hell is that woman punching coins into "I love New York" tokens in that gorgeous place? Frederick Law Olmsted must be tossing and turning in his grave.) I know what a treasure Goat Island is, because of countless visits. It is a place that never bores me, though I may have bored a few friends and family as I trekked them through.
Of course, I must take our visitors, the son and wife of a real developer, past AquaFalls, to view the detritus left by wanna-be-but-never-will-be developers. See this ugly mudhole that has been "coming soon" for three years, li'l sugar man? This is why your dad isn't with us. He honors his commitments to finish a job, so folks don't have to live with a major embarrassment in the middle of downtown.
So what does that leave us?
No way I'm going to take this precious lad on that lame-yet-treacherous balloon ride that has wind-whacked an adjacent building on its way up and down that single thin cable, for a half-ass view at $18 a sucker ($63 for the four of us for 15 minutes -- are they kidding?). I have never trusted that cable not to snap and send the balloon hurtling into oblivion or spinning like a runaway top into the rapids.
There's a helicopter ride that I hear is great fun, and if Uncle Uncle wants to take his grandnephew into the wild blue yonder, good on him. But I don't do airborne things unless it's a necessity.
Of course, there's the Aquarium of Niagara, but I'm boycotting that entertainment facility. A couple of years ago, I defended the aquarium against the Hole-in-the-Ground Gang, those AquaFalls numbnuts, because I thought it deserved defending. It doesn't, I've discovered.
So guess what?
I'll be taking our visitors to Marineland on the other side of the Rainbow Bridge, with its two new baby beluga whales, carnival rides I still love, and actual buffalo in a region that has never actually had a bison in its midst, despite the inanely named city in the region that shall remain nameless. Maybe we'll stroll up Clifton Hill to see the Haunted House or Madame Tussaud's Wax Museum, since witchy Mayor Elia's family ensured we'd never get our own versions here.
In other words, I'm going to spend a freaking fortune in our rival city to prove to two people I love that I didn't have a lobotomy before I moved here.
I could have spent the money on this side of the gorge, if there were something to do besides just eat. Y'all eat way too much in this fat neck of the woods, as proven by Taste of Buffalo, the Italian Heritage Festival, the Canal Festival, the All-You-Can-Eat Whatever Festival -- name it, it's just people walking around stuffing their gobs with food.
Not a pretty sight.
Eating appears to have become the chief form of entertainment in the great metropolis of Buffalo-Niagara. What else is there to do on this side? Why don't you take your bursting bags of Buffalo wings and any other greasy shit that appeals to you and have a picnic alongside that unique, awe-inspiring tourist attraction, the Great American Hole in the Ground? You'll have tons of fun, I guarantee it.
I like eating as much as the rest of mankind, but eating shouldn't be a vocation, a career choice, a credit toward a college degree and an all-consuming pastime. In Niagara-Buffalo (I'm turning the tables on those Buffalonian Rudnick bastards who want to muscle in on our town), seeing red can be a full-time job. Get your priorities straight, folks, and I don't mean whether you want Italian sausage and peppers or fried dough.
| Niagara Falls Reporter | www.niagarafallsreporter.com | July 23 2002 |