After crossing the great expanse of nothing called Manitoba, I was looking forward to taking a much-needed break just inside the Ontario border on Highway 17 – otherwise known as the Trans-Canada. There’s a nice little rest area off the highway, tucked away in tall pines. Tables, washrooms, drinks – all available there.

Okay, there used to be a rest stop there.

The dumbasses in control of those little things that make all the difference when one is traveling the highways and byways in the once and former great Ontar-i-ari-ari-o have decreed the place to be closed. Now one must once again search out the nearest tall – or short (no prejudice here) – tree to urinate, defecate, throw out trash and generally cause and create mayhem.

For all, it’s a return to the snowplow turnout to make deposits like wild animals roaming the deep, dark woods, huffing and puffing and snuffing out a spot to do our business. The north is given the privilege of contributing billions to the economic life of southern Ontario, while the buffoons governing the province force travelers and citizens all to piss against trees and bury waste in the moss.

Too bad, so sad.

But don’t despair, good traveler! If you can wait until you get to southern Ontario to urinate and defecate, you will be warmly welcomed into a rest stop such as this.