A tale of two Falls.

Back in January, I had a couple of days off in Buffalo. To be clear, I think we can all agree that there are at least two things horribly wrong with that last sentence.

1. Up until recently, Buffalo was not a place I'd choose to be under the best of circumstances.

2. Anytime that you combine Buffalo and the middle of winter, that is anything but the best of circumstance.

Yet here I was. Trying to make lemonade out of bored and bitter lemons, I figured that I could go to Niagara Falls and get some of those cool frozen waterfall pics that pop up on all those nature sites. Or to rephrase, when faced with the dilemma of what to do in the Siberian hellscape that is western New York in January, my first instinct was to get the hell out, even if it was to a possibly colder place.

To an extent, this plan actually worked out quite well. There were icicles on every surface that could icicle, creating a stark kind of wintry beauty.  However, I hadn't thought this whole thing through. You see, in order to get these cool ice formations, you need a lot of precipitation. To use a totally random example, you would need lots and lots of mist coming off a not wholly frozen waterfall. And this same mist, when it comes into contact with any exposed skin (or hair or eyeballs...) makes you curse the very moment you were born. Of four people that began the trek from parking lot to waterfall, we lost two in the gift shop midway through (although one bald dude did so in order to get a hat and did continue the journey). Meanwhile, my friend and I struggled on the iced over footpath, looking like a pair of clumsy recently born giraffes that hadn't quite figured out how legs work.

We managed to stay out there for maybe two minutes before deciding "Fuck this, no picture is worth all this" and joining the rest in the gift shop. Do you know how bad it was? I'll tell you. I bought socks. Anyone who knows me, knows that I am not a fan of wearing little sweaters on my feet but this was a desperate time and desperate measures involved footwear with pictures of little smiling moose on them.

Away from the falls themselves, it was not as bad. Either that or we had lost enough feeling in our extremities that we had embraced frostbite as our new normal. Regardless which, we continued on to one of my favorite places ever, Tacky Street.

Technically, the street is actually called Clifton Hills but that is just an oversight on the part of the city planners. Imagine taking every schlocky tourist attraction you can think of (ie second rate wax museums, possibly haunted mini-golf courses, decidedly unhaunted haunted houses...you get the idea). Now put all those attractions on one street and it welcome to the world capital of kitsch.

Do you think you could stroll down the Champs-Elysees and get yourself a wax mold of your hand in a variety of glittery colors. Au contraire, mon frere. You can not. For that you need to go to Tacky Street and drop in on the Fun Factory.

And then wait for 45 minutes while said hand hardens...

And then wonder how in the hell you are going to get your wax hand home, while carrying luggage that is already overstuffed with winter clothes (plus one pair of moose socks)...

If you ever doubt that there is genius in the world, know that someone came up with the phrase "It's not a souvenir, it's a YOUvenir"

Now fast forward to March. Through no planning of my own, I am back in Buffalo. Only a couple of things have changed. The temperature has shot up to a sweltering high 40's- mid 50's and I am now, courtesy of my new Buffalonian buddy, armed with a solid list of things to do and see.

I still end up returning to Niagara Falls because I am with friends who have never been and also, it is now possible to get those wintry pics without risking hypothermia.

But for the first time ever, I am not in such a rush to leave the Buffalo area that we stop to look at the US side of the Falls. It's still not as cool as the Canadian side but realizing that it doesn't totally suck is a revelation.

We are now able to calmly walk along the promenade without fear of ending up ass over elbow at any given moment. I mean, there were still some snowy patches and I can eat it in the middle of the most arid of climates, but it wasn't the mathematical probability that it had once been.

It is still too cold to ride the Maiden of the Mist boat that goes underneath the Falls, but as far as Fall days go, this is a pretty good one.

We celebrated this accomplishment back in Buffalo by digging into our list and finding some great bars and cool veg-friendly restaurants. Where I had always assumed that the city was simply a dud, it turns out that you just need to know where to look. (Thanks, Mr. R!) But I still won't recommend it in January. That shit is brutal.