Traveling with a Lisa Gags Order
Today, we took an excursion on a deluxe motorcoach aka bus into the Highlands up to Loch Ness. I was a little put off when the driver kept asking us if we wanted to look under his kilt to see his Loch Ness Monster. Not only did we refrain, but we are now joining the #wee-too movement. We actually started the day bright and early in Rob Roy country (Lisa is a more of a wine drinker though). Rob Roy, a sheep herder, was the Scottish Robin Hood. The term blackmail came from how he operated his shepherding business. No, he didn’t make charcoal etchings of Farmer MacDougal in a compromising position with Lambchop, but it was the practice of extorting protection for property (herds) from the rustlers; who actually worked for him anyway. Essentially, today’s mafia-owned garbage services owe Rob Roy a little taste of their action. Scotch guarding wasn’t just for upholstery back then. As the bus crisscrossed on its way to the Highlands, we seemed to be traveling in a pattern, which turned out to be argyle. We went through many actual set locations of the Harry Potter movies, which included Hagrid’s Enchanted Forest and the steam railroad; which serves as the Hogwart’s Express. As I haven’t read the books, I didn’t know the places, but did see many of the locales from my favorite book, “Green Eggs and Ham” spying a house, a mouse, a box sans fox, a car, a tree, the dark, in the rain, and a train. From there, we saw the castle from Monty Python’s, “Life of Brian,” where I sustained just a flesh wound.
Entering into the Highlands, our heavily accented tour guide explained that even warring factions had to provide hospitality to one another due to a tightly adhered to code, as the climate is so intemperate and food so scarce. Then, he went on a rant about Glen Campbell, who was apparently the worst guest ever in the Highlands, when he stayed with the MacDonalds. I couldn’t imagine what Glen could’ve done short of keeping the Witchita Lineman still on the line. It turns out that the tour guide was talking about the Clan Campbell, not Glen, who after the clan took the MacDonald’s hospitality killed them all the next morning. Far beats my worst houseguest, who log-jammed the downstairs bathroom during a party one time. We went to the majestic mountains of Glencoe where we had a light lunch of Scottish Broth and bread. The bread was so hard and crusty that we developed Loch Jaw.
Before debussing (it’s like deplaning, but low budget), our guide asked us if we believed in Nessie, the Loch Ness Monster. Of the 37 of us, I was 1 of 5 of the believers. Hell, last year in Iceland, I believed in the Northern Lights and didn’t see them either. We took an hour cruise on Loch Ness; but didn’t see Nessie fluke; which was much like the boredom of doing a whale watch. Bigfoot and I had a good laugh about that. Our boat’s captain sang quite a few sea shanties, of which Lisa was amazed that I knew many of the words. I guess my non-specific Ancestry.com 6-8% British/Irish/Scottish heritage supplied me instinctively with the lyrics, as I knew to take the high road and not the low road to get to Scotland before ye! Back to Edinburgh as I’m Loched out.
Rubber Chicken 