With Collage held last weekend hosted by the Southeast Newcomers Service, it got me thinking about a newcomer's first impressions of Estevan.
As something of a foreigner myself - some people think Ontario is another planet, I've heard Ontario is the sarcastic centre of the universe a number of times - I have my own first impression of Estevan, albeit one that isn't entirely flattering.
It was probably easier for me to acclimatize to the Energy City as a Canadian. I was going from one place to a new one with nearly identical customs and culture.
I arrived in Estevan after driving 12 hours that day. I drove 12 hours the day before. But I arrived, like a refugee, with everything I own on my back. Well, a Canadian refugee has the luxury of having all his personal belongings in his car and a job lined up to start right away.
Sure, I didn't have a place to stay, but how hard could that be? I saw hotels and motels all over the place. They were, of course, all full.
I rolled up to a hotel, seeing there were no vacancies, but maybe they just never updated their sign or use the no vacancy message to discourage some of the riff-raff. I've been to a restaurant that put a reserved sign on every table in the place, whether they were reserved or not, and if the owner didn't like the look of you he just shooed you out the door. We got shooed.
I approached the front desk and got an affirmative from the woman working it that they were, in fact, full, or she at least sized me up as potential riff-raff. As a tired person who was a minute or two away from asking if I could just lie down on the lobby couch until morning, I explained that every place in this town appeared full. Did she have any suggestions?
I pleaded for some assistance because I had no energy to help myself any longer. She said she would call around to other places and started dialing numbers. I was very grateful for her effort.
After three or four phone calls and no good news, she told me that was it for places of comparable quality. She offered to make some more calls while warning me that the search will only bring back places of a seedier nature. She didn't say "seedier." It was clear she didn't want to give me false expectations of quality and cleanliness, while also not badmouthing another business in the community or sending me screaming down the highway and away from Estevan as fast as I could go.
I told her I was either sleeping in a dirty room with heat or I would be sleeping in my car, so I was open to any place with a mattress. I've slept in some weird places before. I've spent months hopping from one hostel to another, sometimes sharing a room with 30 other people. I could deal with whatever Estevan threw at me.
I ended up laying my head down at a place that wasn't exactly ritzy or lavish. Sure it was priced like a first-class resort, but the price didn't fool me into thinking I was getting complimentary room service. It was fine.
I figured as part of my exorbitant sleeping costs I must also be receiving a pretty standup, one-night only health-care plan through the motel. I noticed a pointy piece of glass in the snow with electrical tape wrapped around one end like a grip. I assumed it was a prison shiv that escaped with its inmate craftsman who I would probably be bunking next to. As a tired guy, I thought I'd just stay in my room, not step on anybody's toes and ultimately do whatever was necessary to avoid being stabbed with glass.
The sun came up the next morning, and I got to work finding a new place to stay. I don't want to say a better place exactly, but a different place different in a good way.
