Up before the dawn. Barely caught our plane. Changed in Baltimore. Rented a smokey-smelling car a mile from the Buffalo airport. And drove across to Canada.
By the time we got to our hotel, the afternoon was fleeting, and (vacationing being hard work even on day-one) we were hungry again.
“Queen Street,” the woman behind the counter said. “There are cafes and clubs on Queen Street.”
It was just a few blocks away, and we found the perfect place where we could sit outside in the shade. (Upon seeing That’s Amore Pizzaria, Trudy declared, “I’m really hungry for pizza.”)
We sat down and asked for two iced teas and were puzzled when the waitress brought to plastic bottles of Lipton sweetened with tons of corn syrup.
“You two must be from America,” she said. “This is the only kind of iced tea we have up here.” We confessed to being from Texas, and the three of us agreed that that explained it.
While we waited for our pizza, Trudy pulled out her map of Niagara Falls and got down to business plotting out our post-dinner strategy.
And happily, as you can see, the lack of real iced tea was no impediment whatsoever.