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We felt it appropriate to move away from our travel log in order to take a moment to mark the day that saw the crumbling of a political career and the death of a failed, and pretty much imaginary, nation. This afternoon at 4 pm in the small village of La Restinga two Canadian’s eagerly entered the far too complicated password to an internet network, desperately seeking news from home. They had counted down the hours until the allotted time; keeping busy by tidying their boat and finally greasing the steering wheel enough to stop that @$%*^ squeak that had been driving them mad since last summer. But after toiling the day away it was finally 10 am at home and they held their breath as they waited for the Globe and Mail website to load. They let out their breath again, in order not to asphyxiate, as they continued to wait for the website to load, and to curse the café’s internet connection. But then it happened. The all too familiar image of a smug, bloated face appeared above a caption that announced what had seemed reasonable but impossible: the removal of Rob Ford from public office. The Canadians looked around in shocked amazement until the silence was finally broken by the crack of their awesome high-five and shouts of disbelief as they continued to wait for the article to load.
After confirming that it was not some tricky media ploy, the Canadians were free to embrace the giddy amazement that they were feeling. Soon they were joined by the only two other Canadians on the island and the four of them commemorated the event by remembering the good times during the last two years. Remember that time Ford gave the finger to the mom and daughter who chided him for texting while driving? Remember when he tried to get rid of the “tax” on plastic bags? Or when he decided that he didn’t need a driver because reading while driving on the Gardener was okay and it also freed up time for his assistants to “volunteer” with his high school football team? Oh Rob Ford. Remember how every time he opened his mouth crazy things would inevitably come out, the kinds of things that could make you grimace and die just a little bit inside?
That night by the pale light of the citronella candles, four Canadians and one Brit celebrated the day by symbolically blowing out the light on their RIP Rob Ford cake and raising their glasses in a toast to conflict of interest, to only 14 more days, and to the guy who made it all possible – Rob Ford. Sure the man is probably here to stay but hopefully, if there is a Santa Claus, his political career can be interned in its final resting place, that big gravy train in the sky.