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Hello My Name is Rugged Fox

I am a 30-something bachelor living in Vancouver, BC, Canada. Pour yourself a glass of wine and join me on this tale of questionable fashion choices and epic dating fails.

We're Going to See the Backstreet Boys!

We're Going to See the Backstreet Boys!

It was approximately five thirty in the morning when our trip to see the Backstreet Boys in Vegas got off to a bumpy start.

In order to save money for cocktails, my leading lady Valli and I decided to fly domestic out of Bellingham, Washington. Pulling up to the American border, I turned down “I Want it That Way” blasting on the speakers, and advised Valli that everything was going to be just fine. The truth is, I have been nervous driving into the United States, ever since our family station wagon was pulled over and searched for drugs when I was five years old.

As the light turned green, I pulled my hatchback forward and rolled down the window.

“Good morning officer,” I greeted the Border Patrol Agent, whose gender I am still unsure of.

“Do you have any guns?” they replied.

Half-asleep and on a five-second delay, I started to panic when I registered the question asked of me. As the steam from our Tim Hortons coffees dissipated onto the windshield, I felt my sense of rational thought vanish with it. In desperate search for an answer, I turned to Valli and mouthed the two syllables “do we” punctuating a question mark with my eyebrows. As soon as I saw her jaw begin to shift left and right, I snapped back to reality.

“No Officer,” I confirmed. “We are currently not in possession of any firearms or illegal substances.”

I looked back at Valli whose forehead had dropped inconspicuously into her hands. While her voice remained silent, I could hear her screaming telepathically, “WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU?”

“Passports,” the Border Patrol Agent commanded.

Okay, now what happened next, I admit was roughly 62% my fault. The rest of the blame can be chalked up to bad timing.

You see, whenever I travel, I always plan for at least three outfit changes per day of the trip. Plus, I pack an additional two outfits for whenever I spill red wine on myself. Now I know what you are thinking, what do my clothes have to do with our Passports? Well, the answer is – everything.

Dressed in a cute blue bomber jacket with a floral print sweater and Werther’s Original caramel trousers, there was nothing wrong with how I was dressed; except for where I decided to store my Passport.

Reaching my right hand into my left inside coat pocket, I froze when the Agent jumped back.

With their right hand nearing their firearm, and their left pointing a flashlight directly at my chest, I started to panic again when I realized the error of my ways.

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING?” the Agent cried out to me.

“My Passport, Officer,” I exhaled deeply before inhaling a huge breath, “It is inside my jacket pocket.”

When seconds (which felt like decades) passed, I handed over my Passport as soon I was given permission to move again. Reaching over to retrieve Valli’s official documentation, Beverly D'Angelo, I did not have to look her in the eye to know that she was notably unimpressed.

“Where are you headed to?" the Agent asked.

Finally, a question I could answer.

“We are flying to Las Vegas to see The Backstreet Boys in concert!” I exclaimed.

“I was always an ‘NSYNC fan myself.”

“Gosh darnit!” I bit my tongue. My worst fear had come true.

After ten seconds of suspenseful direct eye contact passed, I thanked Meryl Streep and the Border Patrol Agent when our Passports were stamped.

Merging on to I5, I turned the volume back up on the speakers.

“Well, I think that went well,” I said, glancing over at my co-star.

As the lyrics to “All I Have to Give" fluttered into the air, I crossed my fingers she would forgive me by the time we touched down in Nevada.

To be Continued. Next up, "Ten Minutes Off the Strip."

A Quick Shuttle Bus From the Strip

A Quick Shuttle Bus From the Strip

Rugged Does Vegas/Vegas Does Rugged: A Flip-Flop Series

Rugged Does Vegas/Vegas Does Rugged: A Flip-Flop Series

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