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Niagara Falls
My dad and I traveled to Cambridge, Massachusetts in 2011 because his sister died unexpectedly. I lived in Portland, Oregon, and he lived in NW Indiana, an hour from Chicago.
There once was a man from Niagra
Who took a big dose of Viagra.
The sail went aloft,
But soon it went soft.
No seaman, that man from Niagra.
‒Barbara Wiget
My dad and I drove from Seneca Falls to Niagara Falls. That’s a lot of falls. Before we arrived at the Falls, I assumed we would see highway signs leading to them, so I wasn’t looking at the atlas. We ended up at the Canadian border and turned around. Awkward.
“Turn around” makes it sound simple. We had to explain why we used the wrong lane, and we spent a few minutes sitting in a waiting room. Other people were waiting before us and were still waiting when my dad and I left.
Too bad my dad didn’t remember to pack his passport. We could have visited Montreal.
I got out the atlas while we reentered the country… and figured out what to do. We ended up in a run-down town called Niagara Falls — vacant shop fronts, potholes, and all. The town of Niagara Falls is grim and dismal. Neither my dad nor I had previously visited Niagara Falls, and we were astonished that this…