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Broad’s Eye View

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J.ALL OP Columnist

As | write this column | have exactly six more hours before | board a plane bound for Manitoba. Winnipeg that is, swimmin’ holes and hockey stars. | am going home for a wedding and | think that for the first time I’m not dreading the trip. | drove out of Winnipeg cursing everything in sight, swearing | would never return. | think | am finally over it—the shame of being Manitoban. | think many young Manitobans feel this way. | mean you can only be called a dirt farmer so many times before it smarts. When | moved to BC | would squirm every time someone asked where | was from. “The prairies” | would say and smile apologetically. I’m coming out.

The anti-Manitoban sentiment is especially prevalent here in Vancouver. Which is amusing as | suspect Manitoban ex-pats in the Lower Mainland nearly outnumber Vancouver natives by now. And you all should be happy to have us. We brought you Hunky Bill, Silver Jeans and kick-ass prairie hip-hop from FarmFresh. | apologize for Biff Naked though; they had orders to shoot her if she ran for the border. We’re a hearty bunch, surviving revoltingly hot summers and_ thigh-numbing winters. Hell, we even built a city on a swamp—who’s a stupid dirt farmer now? Okay bad example, but it hasn’t sunk yet.

Perhaps the most Manitoban event is the social. | was flabbergasted to learn they do not exist outside the province. A social is a party, usually thrown by an engaged couple to earn money for their upcoming wedding. Socials are pivotal to teenagers as ID is rarely required and the beer is cheap. It’s rare that you would actually know the people who are hosting it. Tickets are sold to anyone willing to shell out $8 to drink in a rented hall (often the Legion) and dance to a lot of Steve Miller tunes. They are huge and everyone goes.

The parking lot outside the social is often more exciting than inside the hall. Besides the inevitable drunken car-sex and pot smoking, | witnessed some of the most spectacular fist fights outside socials. Of course, everyone would take pause from their outdoor activities to come inside at midnight for the heaping plates of Colby cheese, Ritz crackers, KUB rye bread, garlic sausage and sweet mixed pick- les lovingly put out by someone’s dour-faced aunt and uncle. Sounds disgusting, but with bellies full of Club beer, (locally brewed “for people like you by people like us”) the food tastes heavenly. Sigh, | can hardly wait. Friends of mine have bought me a social ticket for the night | fly in. Best reception | can imagine.

| don’t know why | am telling you all this. Perhaps | still feel defensive and want to convince you all that it’s not such a bad place. | don’t expect miracles. | am just com- ing to terms with Winnipeg, or the Peg as we call it. | don’t suppose I’ve convinced many of you how great it can be, and | doubt Tourism Manitoba is going to be thank- ing me for my representation. So, I'll leave you with one last thought: Winnipeg is desolate and flat, but the beer and women aren't.