Restraining my metropolis desires in Whitehorse can be hard. Community members aren't privileged with many urban opportunities, so when I get together in the "WH" with my community comrades, it is usually nothing less than a blur of gluttony, to say the least.
The feelings I get when arriving in the "Horse" reminds me of my remote camp days when even the smaller towns appear as Las Vegas during time off. We become all-inclusive tourists because you'll soon be departing to a place where you can't get these things.
We are the people you see entering Canadian Tire at a jog with Christmas-morning smiles. This is one of the top-priority stops and we set aside a few hours for this special time.
I'm not sure if there's public shares for Canadian Tire, but, if there is, I should get some. All people are plagued with the self-convincing argument, I didn't know this thing existed, nor do I really need it ... but I better get it because it's pretty slick.
Community members add the purchase justification of I might not be back soon, so I definitely better get it. Resultantly, we roll out with a few shopping carts in tow.
Generally, in the communities the only culinary genre is "trucker", so we especially appreciate the city's tasty options. How does one fit it all in, though? I like "Timmy's" in the morning, American chain food for lunch and ethnic food for supper.
And, at night, we are overwhelmed with the social-drinking opportunities. Sobriety is not on the menu. We are the ones asking the server to recite the draught list twice; because, to be frank, we may not have draught, let alone a draught list back home.
Fresh kegs and socially happening atmospheres go to our heads. And the inebriated nights are long and frequent. With multiple pubs to facilitate a pub crawl, we put in the rounds.
To provide some perspective; hypothetically, a metropolitan dweller has a night on the town once a week, which equals 52 outings in a year. We need to fit these numbers into a few weeks a year (dialysis, please).
And, of course, the romantic partners can't be overlooked. There is a definite need to treat the missus to some smoosy evenings – maybe a nice dinner and a movie.
I do believe this was a covenant in the "Let's-Move-to-Rural-Yukon" contract, and non-compliance would be unacceptable.
And, let me tell you, after a week of balancing heavy consumerism, romantic outings and binge drinking, we're more than happy to return to our sleepy communities and recover from our self-induced urban overdose.