Small town Friday night

By popular request a longer blog post about my adventures. To Orangeville for a wedding 18:00 Friday night. We get a lift in a Chevy Cavalier. We are running late in the traffic towards Dufferin County which has been buried in the recent snow. We creep into the back of the Catholic Church wondering whether the couple are actually married yet. We decamp to Il Corso, an Italian restaurant, where a jolly party gets underway. Turns out the priest is an anglophile and points out the Brits present - he is distantly related to Malcolm Muggeridge. The boss tells of working long hours seven days a week while I blag a red wine at the bar.
Back to the motel late where they are wondering if we are ever going to show. I've just gone fast asleep when there is a loud banging on the door - police. What in the hell's name can they want? "What can we do to assist you" say I. Turns out there has been a break-in at an adjacent strip mall and footprints lead to one of the four rooms on our block. We hear a shouting match starting next door. Finally get to sleep when 06:00 and the alarm goes off - who needs "the wind beneath my wings" at this time of day. Up early and the motel fails the drop test - no hot water for a shower. It is snowing so we take a taxi to the 'bus station' - a convenience store where English is seldom spoken. We buy our Greyhound tickets and trudge across the street to the A&W, 'The Dub', for breakfast. The 'hound shows up right on time and drops us at Islington subway station in 65 minutes. We are home in short order after our trip to the country.