Stevie, baby, it’s all wrong. You’re messing with travel here, Harpy boy. Nobody cancels March Break. I mean, cyclones, plagues, revolutions, monetary collapses, Lindsay Lohan, we get those. We’ve dealt with worse. But getting your jollies by playing chicken with the opposition? Like that’s a good reason to pull the sand from under a cold Canadian? We’re talking vacations, here. Not cool, dude.
It’s like our one chance to make up for the lousiest season since back in the winter of 2009. The hotels are counting on those flabby white bodies to fill their deck chairs. To buffet. To get belligerent after too many of Jose’s triple shot margaritas, sin sal, por favor. (And I did not pull the lifeguard’s trunks down when he ran from my cabana. He slipped and I grabbed them, to keep him from, um, falling.) It’s a crime to come between Canadian families and their all-inclusive. I hope you’re ashamed of yourself, Mr. Harper.
