It's said that when a butterfly in the Amazonian rainforest flaps its wings, that small movement can affect the earth's climate. In a similar way my involvement with a recent incident in Niagara Falls affected the political climate in Canada. More specifically Quebec separation! All thanks to me.
It did make the newspapers in Quebec but went unnoticed in the rest of Canada. It was hushed up. What happened was, a group of French tourists visiting Louis Tussauds Wax Museum in Niagara Falls, for some inexplicable reason attacked and destroyed a brand-new wax effigy of Quebec premier Jacques Parizeau. They dragged it out of the museum and onto Clifton Hill where they proceeded to tear it apart, limb from limb.
This was thoroughly disheartening for Quebec, because ever since that day in 1967 when President Charles De Gaulle of France stood on a balcony at Montreal City Hall, and called out "Vive Le Quebec libre", Quebecers have always believed that France would always support them in their bid for independence. You can imagine the effect of the headlines: “Parizeau pummelled by paranoid Parisians!” Even worse, what remained of him was rescued by the R.C.M.P. musical ride team, who just happened to be going through their paces in a nearby park; of course, when they saw the melee, they came riding to the rescue, just like a scene from Rose Marie. Well, this convinced enough Quebecers that: in this big cruel world, it's important to remember who your real friends are.
Now you're wondering what small part I played in this incident. It all began like this: I was in Niagara Falls for a convention. I had arrived mid-afternoon and decided to go out for an early supper. As I went down Clifton Hill, I noticed a small French restaurant. I was alone so I thought I'd treat myself to a gourmet supper. I had a terrific meal, the only problem, due to poor communication (I don't speak much french) I seemed to have ordered twice as much as I could eat. The waiter was most understanding and gave a me Doggy bag, a large box with the name of the restaurant on it "Mange Paris".
It was still early so I thought I'd take a walk down to the Falls. At the bottom of the hill, I stopped at the lights and waited to cross the street. Just at that moment a tour bus stopped right in front of me and began to unload about a couple of dozen tourists, straight from France by the sounds of them. They looked a little tired from their journey, but they were still smiling and very friendly. They also looked hungry, and since I had this large box of food, I figured I may as well offer it to them. They were incredibly grateful. It was like the parable of the loaves and fishes. Anyway, the light changed, and I said goodbye, and continued to the falls. They were going that way too because we all crossed the street together.
What I didn't realize until much later, was that because of the box of food which read "Mange Paris", and whatever else it said in French. They had mistaken me for their tour guide. It wasn't a problem though, we all wanted to see the same things, so off we went. It was fine, except when I stopped, they all stopped. When I walked, they all walked. Cameras clicking and flashing, VCR's whirring. Between the American Falls and the Horseshoe falls they must have shot enough film to make another sequel to Gone with the Wind. They were taking pictures of me, I was taking pictures of them, and we were all having a wonderful time.
They were such a happy, friendly group of people, although not one of them spoke a word of English. Me, I only had the few words that were on my "Mange Paris" box. A problem did arise when I needed to visit the washroom, because it got a little crowded when they all followed me in.
Eventually it was time to return to my hotel so off I went. Of course they followed me, right back to the Venture Inn. I naturally assumed they were staying at the same place. Great I thought, we can have breakfast together the next morning. They were such a great group of people; we were all the greatest of friends by now.
By coincidence, our rooms were all together on the sixth floor. I was thinking there might be a get together in one of their rooms later. It looked as though they were thinking the same thing, because they all stopped outside my door. It was then the awful truth dawned on me. Not only had they mistaken me for their tour guide, but they also didn’t have any rooms, at least none that I knew of.
Nice as they were, I wasn't planning to share mine with them. I had to get rid of them, but what to do? Feeling like the pied piper I left the hotel and returned to Clifton hill. By this time, they no longer seemed quite as friendly. I realized I should try to escape, but how? Half way down I spotted the wax museum. Catching them by surprise I dashed across the street, right into the museum. There, right in front of me was a life-size figure of Quebec Premier Jacques Parizeau, his arms outstretched, with a sort of expectant look on his face.
A brilliant idea struck me. Into his hands I shoved the "Mange Paris box. I then had to hide. Just off to one side was a display of superheroes, Schwarzenegger, Stallone, Van Damm. Perfect, I whipped off my shirt and joined them, striking a suitable superhero pose. When the tourists entered, they never recognized me. By now though they were very tired, and not so good natured anymore -- who would after twelve hours on a plane, three hours on a bus, dragged around Niagara Falls, no hotel rooms and only leftovers for supper. Poor old Jacques, he was simply in the wrong place at the wrong time.
First the yelling began, then the angry gestures, followed by pushing and shoving. But when a voice from the back of the room yelled De Gaulle; they went berserk. They dragged Jacques out of the building and into the street, and, as they say, the rest is history.
What happened to me? I preferred to remain inconspicuous, so I maintained my Schwarzenegger pose for a while. It must have been impressive, because an attractive women entered the wax museum and stopped right in front of me, staring intently. She then walked around, poking and prodding me. "What a magnificent specimen" she said, "I sure wish I could take you back to my hotel room."
David M. Hobson October 16, 1994
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