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The Citizen, 1992-07-15, Page 5Arthur Black THE CITIZEN, WEDNESDAY, JULY 15,1992. PAGE 5. The Who are you going to blame for hard times? In 1989, the Tories bulldozed the Free Trade Agreement through Parliament. I knew that the agreement was tantamount to popping Canada's natural resources into a shopping cart and pushing it across the 49th parallel, but I said nothing. In 1990, the Tories stacked the Senate with bumboys and yesmen to insure passage of the Gouge and Screw Tax. I knew the tax was no more than a calculated snatch and grab, a plot to plunge government's jammy fingers even deeper into the Canadian taxpayers' pockets. Yet I stood idly by. I uttered scarcely a peep when Mulroney’s minions gutted the Armed Forces, destroyed passenger train service, and treated Canada's Medicare system to that fine old Chinese surgical tradition, the Death of A Thousand Cuts. Still, my lips were sealed. Nosiree, Bob. It takes more than a bunch A not so serious look at the airlines A few years ago I did a couple of articles, rating the various airlines on which I had flown and offering a few serious and not so serious comments on their performance. I heard that these two articles had reached the airlines in question and were being circulated. Since I was never refused passage on any of them subsequently, I can only assume that they were taken in the spirit in which they were written. Here, then, is an update. AEROFLOT - Good morning, comrades - oops - ladies and gentlemen. Welcome on board flight No. 111 of whatever name our airline happens to have at the present time. Our flying time will depend on which airports are still a part of the new Russia when we get in the vicinity. Due to the shortage of money in Moscow, we will be taking up a collection among the passengers to buy us gas along the way. You can also help by winding up the rubber band every 10 minutes that you see in the aisle beside you. This helps operate the flaps and the landing gear. YUGOSLAV AIR TRANSPORT - Good morning ladies and gentlemen. The following people are not included in this greeting: Bosnians, Croatians, Slovenes, Macedonians and any Albanians who live in Serbia. Since Belgrad is now the only city at of politicos systematically unravelling my country sinew by sinew to gel my dander up. But this time, by thunder they've gone too far. The Tories have closed Lulu's. Well, not personally, I suppose. I don't imagine John Crosby and Joe Clark and Mike Wilson showed up with a flying wedge of bailiffs to nail the “For Rent” signs across Lulu's front door - but hey! It is the dreadful palsied hand of the Tones that's been on our economic tiller for the past (Lord, has it only been) eight years. Hard limes closed Lulu's. And who are YOU gonna blame for hard times? Beg pardon, madame? Who is Lulu, you ask? Not who - what. Lulu's is - or was - Lulu's Roadhouse, of Kitchener, Ontario. It just happened to be the biggest damn bar in the entire world. It's true. You can look it up in the Guinness Book of World Records. Lulu's boasted a stand-up bar that stretched for 340 feet, which is about the length of a football field, or, if you prefer, one Greyhound bus longer than the Statue of Liberty, from torch flame to tippytoe. But to tell you the truth, Lulu’s had many facets more captivating than that overachieving beer counter. The place was cavernous - as big as an aircraft hanger. It could handle 25 hundred thirsty patrons at a time. Picky patrons too. Lulu's was studded with satellite bars where you could order (at your peril) goofy alcoholic concoctions with which we are allowed to land, we will be flying a circular course around Serbia. The machine guns beside your seat are for the purpose of firing at anything that is flying nearby which is not Serbian. When we land, everybody will be required to do six months military service. LUFTHANSA - Guten Tag, meine Damen und Herren. Welcome on board the most precisely run airline in the world. We will arrive at precisely 10:54 p.m., you will be served a dinner at exactly 6:32 p.m. and you will finish your dinner at not a second after 6:51. Before and after your dinner you WELL have a very good time. Danke. AIR CANADA - Bonjour ladies and gentlemen. Welcome on board flight No. 142 from Canada to London, England. For your convenience we would request that all separatists sit in rows 17-24, all members of the Alliance for the Preservation of English in Canada in the luggage racks and illegal immigrants in first class. So as not to offend either linguistic group, all communications and instructions will be given in Esperanto. US AIR - Good morning and a hearty American welcome to one of the greatest airlines of the positively greatest country in the world. I know you will enjoy every minute of our two-hour flight time from London to Pittsburg. We will be serving you with the finest of American beer with complimentary chewing gum when the plane finally begins to descend. When you arrive, please remember not to go out after dark. Enjoy. SWISSAIR - Gruetzi wohl. Bonjour, buon giomo. We have the pleasure of welcoming you on board Swissair Flight 172 from Zurich to Dubendorf. Our pilot is doing his military service so that we will be flying down a few valleys. Be sure to look up at the mountains. Instead of a movie, we will be hearing a lecture on the history of the Landsgemeinde or How the Swiss Cheese even dopier names. And then there was the clientele. It's tough to describe the regular crowd at Lulu's, but if you recall the famous bar scene in the movie Star Wars, that's close enough. On any given night you could expect to run into bikers, chartered accountants, punk rockers, urban cowboys, yuppies, bimbos, bozos, preppies, good ole boys and sundry unclassifiable UFO's. And what brought them all to Lulu's? The part I haven't mentioned yet. The certified best reason to enter the mad world of Lulu's. The entertainment. Lulu's was a pop time warp. They brought in acts you hadn't heard in 25 years. And lots that you had. Chuck Berry. Fats Domino. The Everly Brothers. Buddy Rich. James Brown. They all played Lulu's. So did Neil Sedaka and Del Shannon and ancient Jazz Greats like Billy Butterfield and Slam Stewart. The Drifters and Little Richard were slated to play there this summer, but that won't happen now. The World's Biggest Nightclub is, as they say, in receivership. Which means that on any given night from here on in, 2500 would be patrons with a thirst for strange drinks and wonderful entertainment have nowhere to go. Twenty-five hundred edgy people. Every night. If I was a Tory politician, I'd be checking real estate in Pago Pago. Gets its Holes. Lunch will consist of a large bowl of Birchermuesli. To those who open a deposit in a Swiss bank, Swissair will donate an autographed copy of the debates in the Swiss Parliament. BRITISH AIRWAYS - Good Morning chaps. As soon as the crew has tea, we shall be taking off. In the meantime we shall be showing a film of the latest test match in cricket. Our flight today from London to Rome will detour by way of Moscow in order to pick up a member or two of the Royal Family. We would especially welcome all passengers from the colonies, especially monarchists. If your ticket indicates that you are a Scottish or Welsh separatist, the stewardess will be around to collect a surcharge before you leave the plane. SCANDANAVIAN AIR SERVICES - Ladies and Gentlemen, we will be arriving in Oslo, Norway in a few minutes. Would you kindly set your watches back 10 years. As we are not landing in Copenhagen, passengers for Denmark will be issued parachutes and instructed as to which exit to use. If your parachute does not open, we will be pleased to issue you with another. EL AL - Shalom passengers. If you do not know the person sitting beside you, it is likely a security guard. Although the destination of the plane is Tel Aviv, we are not allowed to fly after sundown on Friday, therefore we will be landing in Athens for 24 hours. A hot meal of chicken soup will be served shortly. So that we may have a peaceful trip, the following topics are not to be discussed: elections in Israel, the Palestinian question, Saddam Hussein and Lebanon. There you have it. Now you know what to expect when you travel on any of the above airlines. If you have chosen another airline, please have your travel agent check with me for the latest assessment Short of it By Bonnie Gropp Sundays, a precious commodity Well, for the first time in some time, it was a pretty uneventful week ip the Gropp household. Though it was my weekend to work, it was a pretty quiet one, so I actually had the chance to curl up with a book during breaks from watching the Blue Jays lose yet again to Oakland. Sunday, our normally bustling house was uncharacteristically quiet; the rest of its inhabitants being either away or resting; and with the typical weekend weather there was no argument that I should get outside and pursue a more physical activity. So, I simply relaxed and enjoyed. With so little else to occupy the space between my ears, I found myself thinking back to what Sundays have been like for me over the years. Going back to as early as I can remember, the first thing that comes to mind when I think of Sunday is church. With a father, who was Sunday School Superintendent and both parents singing in the choir, perfect attendance was not only expected, it was gospel. We would not have missed it anymore than we would have missed school. Even staying over at friends' houses was no excuse to miss church; they were all Lutherans, too. When we got home we always enjoyed an old-fashioned brunch. Then Mom got the roast in the oven and the potatoes peeled and everybody piled into the car to go for ice cream. Illis was a real highlight for our dog, Tiny, who used to get his own cone. Often we would visit family and I would have the opportunity to spend time with my cousins. After my sister married, the only change was that the Sunday drive usually found us on her doorstep. It had always been a day of family, now the location had changed and the family had grown. I don't know if she liked it or not, but I guess Mom decided it was her tum to put the roast in and peel potatoes. As I hit my rebellious teen years, however, my parents seemed to get struck by something, too. Following my confirmation, my dad retired as superintendent so said less about my sporadic attendance at church. My sister's family had moved to Peterborough by this time and my brother was courting, so Sundays were now pretty much Mom, Dad and me. As a typical teen, I certainly wasn't spending my spare time with my parents, so Mom and Dad pretty much got to the point where they either stayed home and slept or went off on their own to visit. By the time I was a young mother, my parents were spending many of their Sundays out-of-town and the rest of our family had grown up and away. The ideal of family Sundays was a distant memory, the day becoming instead a time for friends. Each weekend was almost a festive time with our close circle of aquaintances taking turns hosting the gathering. As the years passed, the faces sometimes changed, but the idea remained the same. Eventually, though, changing times and increasingly busy lifestyles have distanced many of these friends so that it is less often that we get together, more often by chance than by circumstance. When we do, it is always a treat but not a necessity. Now, strangely, the girl who always had to be busy, for whom Sundays had to be full, finds the greatest contentment in just being. Sometimes I even shock myself, when I realize that the perfect Sunday for me is to stay at home - ideally surrounded by husband and kids if I can manage it. I am most content when I have no where to go, or am not expected to be anywhere. To have my family home with me or some unexpected company drop in is a highlight, an added bonus. My kids say I've gotten boring. Perhaps. But to me my Sundays have become a precious commodity. I value them and the time they give me to just sit and be.