PEI or DIE

(please God don't let me die in PEI)

Once again I find myself sitting in front of my computer posting my dying wishes on the night before embarking on a dangerous wintertime road trip. With all the recent trips I've taken, it could almost lead one to think that I have lots of friends of something. But sadly for the fact that I have only three. And one of them just happens to have a car.

Bright and early tomorrow I'll be packed back into the Volkswagen station wagon with Library Girl behind the wheel. [insert nervous laughter here] This time, however, I'll be accompanied by the second third of my friends, Bish, and two young chaps I have yet to meet. We'll be taking the longest bridge over waters that freeze in the world (whoop-dee-doo!) to that mound of red dirt cow and potato covered island known as PEI.

For those of you unfamiliar with Prince Edward Island, I'll tell you everything you need to know about it: It's. An. Island.

Oh, and one other thing: Nobody. Lives. There.

So should I drown in the frigid waters of the Northumberland Strait after our vehicle plunges over the side of the Confederation Bridge, be pummeled to death by potatoes after what few locals there are catch wind that I'm coming, or be crushed to death during a late night drunken cow tipping adventure, I leave all my boring b&w subtitled films to Blandy, any album made by a band with a member that was born or has spent time in Britain to DJ Max, and everything else goes on eBay with all the revenue going to my father. Who's birthday last Wednesday I forgot.