Alberta Trip- Part Three

Our Alberta trip was shaping up to be memorable one as we headed into the weekend of the summer fair and rodeo. The town that we were staying in was known for three things, a good rodeo with professional chuck wagon races, an agricultural collage and....*drum roll please* a fire training school (aka- Beehive of Hot Firemen.) I am not really a 'man in uniform' kinda girl but have always ranked firemen right up there around the hotness level of cowboys (*note* -both still rank WELL below my gorgeous DB... of course:) *wink* Love you, honey...

Needless to say we were pretty jacked up about getting into the notorious dance and beer gardens of the fair that night and spent a little extra time 'beautifying' ourselves. We dressed up in our tightest Wranglers and put on our biggest belt buckles; Laid on an extra coat of mascara and dabbed a little perfume where we hoped it might be appreciated. Black cowboys hats, my best push up bra and low cut tank topped off an outfit that screamed "young and trying hard"! I still remember walking into the big long show barn, crammed cheek to jowl with tables, chairs, and speckled with black and white cowboy hats. There was a big dance floor in one corner and a live band pumping out country music. It was everything I had ever imagined and then some.



Ash's cousins, both nice young men, had insisted on playing chaperon and proved to be all the entertainment we would need. These two brothers were a never ending source of humor, pranks and chivalry and were both excellent dancers. I had never learned to two step and certainly had never done the Polka. Before I knew it, I had been whisked on to the dance floor and boot scooted around in a quick little two step, bouncing to the beat of Brooks and Dunn. I managed well enough until the youngest brother tried to get me to Polka. Uncoordinated at the best of times, I barely kept my feet while literally being bounced around the dance floor like a rag doll. I would have barely touched the ground when I'd get lifted into the air once again and set into a twirl. I felt like a feather dancing in the wind. The fast pace and lively action was so exhilarating I was breathless in a moments time. Just as the song neared its close, and at the height of a bouncing step, my head began to swim with dizziness. As I came down, my feet slipped right out from under me! With a dramatic arm flaying, leg splitting, totally ungraceful splat, I hit the dance floor. The Polka being a fast action, quick stepping dance, it took a moment for the people around me to notice my sprawled form. A few tripped and many stepped on me before I was rescued my partner. He dusted me off and apologized profusely, thinking that he had dropped me. I limped off the dance floor and settled into a chair to catch my breath. The room seemed to swell with the beat of the music with the rush of dancers, and press of people flowing around me. It was wonderful to sit back and be surrounded in such a friendly, jovial crowd. The festive atmosphere lent a air of good will, for the most part...


Until a ruckus broke out from the table next to ours. Ash and I had taken notice of a group of big burly (and extremely hot) men that were crowed around the neighboring table, drinking, laughing and clearly having a good ol' time. We noticed that they tended to keep to themselves, where not dancing and seemed removed from the sense of close knit community that the others shared. I asked Ash's family about them and was told that these were a group of out-of-towners from the local fire training school. I guess some of the local boys had taken offense when one of the these strangers decided to jazz the party up a little by adding some chip n dale style entertainment to the mix. He was clearly pretty cut up and meant no harm but his strip tease was not appreciated by the other lads. Having stolen a glimpse at the chiseled wares being offered, I was inclined to disagree but keep my opinion to myself....


In an attempt to quell the impending riot, some older men had come over and encouraged the firehotties, I mean men, to settle down, which they promptly did by striking up a conversation with Ash and I. We quickly learned that they we in a summer course to become professional firefighters and had come from all over Eastern and Western Canada. Some were married or engaged while others were single, and at least claimed to be for the time being. The group, seriously lacking for feminine company, quickly took us under their wing and proved to be, for the most part, gentlemen. A particularly large specimen caught my eye but was one of the honest variety and while we danced and had some good laughs, he kept his wedding ring in plain sight. When we left that night we had a standing invitation to visit the fire training school and watch them at work, that is, if we so desired. If we so desired? We were eighteen, single, footloose and fancy free. So, yah...we desired. As a matter of fact, we were all over that idea like white on rice.

The next day we headed out to the school. We were given bright yellow hard hats with "Visitor" written across the front, loaded up in a Gater and driven out to a massive 6 story steel structure that afforded us a view of the grounds. We climbed up to the third floor and spend a few hour watching our new friends fight oil tanker fires. When they finished up for the day, the whole group of men, some 20 or more in all, called us down to visit while they cleaned up. Of course, having just fought fire for hours in the middle of summer, wearing big heave suits, they were inclined to strip down to bare chests and trousers. It was all I could do to keep my tongue in my mouth. Ash and I did managed to get a picture of all the men standing together in their bright yellow outfits and dark tanned skin, with the two of us, blissfully happy, standing in the middle. I would share it with you all but it just wont fit in the scanner....seems how I had it gilded n' all.

When it was time for us to leave we were cordially invited to meet them the next night in Edmonton at a famous country bar named Cowboys. This is the same bar that Prince Harry made the news with last summer when he was allegedly given a lap dance by some of the hot hostesses. We should have been in for a good time. I mean, if Royalty cant contain themselves in a bar like that, how would we be able to?....