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The Amazing Adventures of McLean and Figueiredo

Dave and I have known each other since high school. We met during our high school play (Bye Bye Birdie) and would take the late bus home together after rehearsals. We bonded due to our similar sense of humour and our love of Lloyd Bridges.

We kept in touch with each other over the years, and have always been there for each other as good friends should be. Dave and I eventually worked across the street from each other in downtown Toronto, and would go for Chai Latté once a week.

Dave has since moved to Ottawa, and I miss the big lug. Once or twice a week we will play Jedi Academy, and we chat on the phone once in a while (usually while soaking in the tub). At any given time, if you mention his name, a dozen stories will pop into my head. I will relate some of them now…



The Rafting Adventure

You already know that Dave helped me out when I was in a pickle (or was that helped me out with my pickle?). The day after the barfy night, we all boarded the raft that would carry us on our first of many rafting adventures on the Ottawa river. The first series of rapids is known as McCoy’s Chute (by the Wilderness Tours Adventure Company, anyway). It’s relatively mild, but once every couple of minutes someone will get rocked by this sucker. We had spent a little while watching several rafts go through, and it didn’t look so bad. So when we hit the Chute, we never expected to be hit as hard as we were. The raft almost folded. Everyone in the front got thrown back (Dave got essentially catapulted, and slid all the way back and off the boat. The movie footage is hilarious).

Dave wore tearaway pants and running shoes. The poor guy’s pants ballooned up with water, dragging him down the river like so much flotsam. He was eventually picked up by a kayak rescue guy (Come here often?) and dreaded the next rapids. He wanted to go home, and no one can blame him.

However, he never went home. Instead he had a great time for the rest of the trip. So much fun that we ended up going twice more after that.



The Early Departure to Sleepyland

Dave is younger than I am. Dave used to throw kickass parties (He still does).

Thus, when I was at his parties, I would invariably be one of the older guys there.

Dave threw a big party once when I was in first year university. He and quite a number of folks there had not gone to university yet, so I was relating a lot of my experiences about it to them. A lot of them were not so much afraid of University as apprehensive. They didn’t know what to expect.

Dave was mixing drinks that night. I had Black Russians, White Russians, and Evil White Russians. Another one of his friends was mixing Caesars, and of course, there was beer. I drank other things that night, but suffice to say I was a little tipsy.

Indeed, I was right hammered. Remembering conversations from earlier in the evening, I decided to calm everyone’s fears about university by making a speech about how you weren’t just a number in university and how it’s not so bad and blah blah blah. I thought that everyone was hanging on my slurred words. I don’t see how they had a choice, as I was speaking at the top of my lungs.

I finished up my dialogue and then went to bed. At 23:30.

I have never lived this down.


More adventures to come…