Wiretap - The Honeymooners

Episode Date: July 13, 2020

Live from the Winnipeg Comedy Festival, Jonathan tells the story of his trip to Puerto Rico where he retraced the steps of his parents' honeymoon. Plus, Josh thinks it's about time he and Jonathan take their relationship to the next level: bromance. Musical guests Imaginary Cities.

We're in the midst of the dog days of summer. And it's called that because during this period, Sirius, the dog star, rises with the sun in the morning. Not because it feels like several dogs are breathing their humid breath on you all the time. Can you tell he's a cat person? Hello, I'm Neil Kerkstel. And I'm Chris Houghton. We're the co-hosts of As It Happens.

But throughout the summer, some of our wonderful colleagues will be hosting in our place. We will still be bringing you conversations with people at the center of the day's major news stories here in Canada and throughout the world. You can listen to As It Happens wherever you get your podcasts. This is a CBC podcast. I'm Jonathan Goldstein, and you're listening to Wiretap on CBC Radio 1. Today's episode recorded live at the Winnipeg Comedy Festival, The Honeymooners. Hanging at the station waiting for the final ride, time passed by, and it's getting harder to pretend.

all the cracks in the pavement subdivide. Don't ask why, but I'm moving closer to the edge. Minutes go slow, like the hours in my head. Finding that a ride back on that train again. Turn to Mr. Driver, here's my own. Holy friend I hope he knows his way to know He could be out this one

He could be out as once a board He could be out Try to make your mark Try to keep from fading away Tell me lies How to live and what you recommend The seasons go slow like the years in my head Finding that I'm right back on that train again

Turn to Mr. Driver. He's my only friend But I'm just a temporary resident Looking on my window I'll be home again, home again. I hope they know to stay to go. We could be held just once a home. He could be held just once a more.

We could be held. Ladies and gentlemen, Jonathan Goldstein. Thank you, thank you so much. Thank you, guys. Imaginary Cities. I had initially asked the organizers if I can have one of those stools to sit on while the band's playing. I was like, you know, like the way Stuart McLean has, you know, he sits on the stool and he claps his hands and taps his foot and they said, He said, you have to earn the stool. All right, so this is a story about Puerto Rico.

So you're off to Puerto Rico, my friends say. You mean Puerto Rico, I say, rolling my tongue with sensual languor. This is perhaps why I do not have many friends. But it's true. I'm off to San Juan for a week-long holiday. I'd been in need of a vacation for some time, and as my apartment was being fumigated due to an incident involving Howard, hobos, and something called a weevil festival, it seemed like the perfect time.

I pulled my friends and family for a suitable destination. Tony suggested pitching a tent in a pie factory parking lot, and Gregor made an argument for going to a nudist resort where I'd get twice the fresh air for the same money. But in the end, it was my parents who won me over, Puerto Rico being the place they spent their honeymoon in 1966.

There's a soda shop on San Felipe Street that makes a five-cent egg cream to drop dead for, my father said. Ask for little peppy. Tell him Buzz sent you. That was over 40 years ago, my mother yelled. Little peppy is probably a skeleton

hanging in a Puerto Rican high school biology. class by now. Nevertheless, before we get off the phone, my father instructed me to bring him back a soda in a to-go cup. Despite the weakness of my father's case, I'm won over by the idea of Puerto Rico. It'll be warm, scenic, and what's more, I can retrace my parents' footsteps. Pay homage to the trip that led to my eventual existence. It'll be like a cross between Back to the Future and Mr. Bean takes a holiday.

The thing is, I've only ever heard my parents tell the same two stories about the trip. One, Buzz had the best egg cream of his life. And two, Buzz spent two dollars, two whole American dollars on a 10-cent comb from a store in the hotel lobby. Before leaving, I call them up to dig for more memories, to get some indication of things they should see and do while there. My mother answers, and I tell her to have my father pick up the extension. He's in the middle of watching Jeopardy, but he agrees to pick up the telephone, begrudgingly. So what did you know about Puerto Rico before you went there?

Well, Puerto Ricans come from there, don't they? And what was it like? Oh, it was luxurious, Johnny. You know, I wanted to make an impression on your mother that she married a man with class, and that it was a big spender. Yeah When I tip the cab driver A dollar

She almost fainted You know I forgot to bring a comb Yeah I I know the comb story But did you see any of the local sites Or anything like that No, we hung around the hotel

Oh, what is uranium He's obsessed with that game show You're obsessed It's almost over Did you take in any shows Wayne Newton was there But I don't go for You know, that high-pitched voice is his.

It's like you got something stuck in a zipper. Enough of that crazy talker, Eddie, Buzz. That high-pitched voice is. Okay. Well, did you try Puerto Rican cuisine? I mean, do you remember what you ate? I don't remember. Probably salmon or...

French fries, pizza. Milk shakes. Your mother never likes out of the border. Gives it a run. Does the whole world have to know my business? Sometimes you... It's enough! I decide that I want that kind of holiday.

Free of all that cultural integration and adventure stuff that's so prevalent these days, because that feels like work. I want to go back to a time before any of that was invented. In other words, I want a real vacation, one just like my folks. I tell my parents about how I'm going to Puerto Rico as a tribute to their love, a love that bore me. That's nice, my mother says. Who is Henry Kissinger, my father says? Day one. In San Juan, I unpack my bags in the same hotel that my parents stayed at and head down

to the hotel casino, where I decide to join a game of bingo, or what the hotel calls, bingy, bingy. My adversaries are three women in their 70s, and after 25 minutes of fierce combat, my heart racing, I cry out, bingy, bingy! I am so exhilarated that my voice almost cracks. The only thing sadder than a grown man on a honeymoon with himself, triumphantly calling out bingy bingy, is a grown man on a honeymoon with himself mistakenly calling out bingy, bingy.

It seems I mistook a Nueve for an ocho. No bingy, bingy, I ask, no longer exhilarated. And my competitors nod and smile at me with good-natured, holiday-spirited, Shadenfreude. Day two. I've discovered a great love of Puerto Rican food. In fact, I've spent the whole day eating so much of it that I do not dare enter the hotel pool

for fear of cramping. So when I haven't been eating, which really can't have been for more than 15 minutes of my waking day, I spend my time in the hot tub, a body of water probably invented for people too full to swim. I consider getting myself one of those arm floaties and wearing it around my throat like a neck brace so I can doze in the tub without drowning

after a large meal of tamales. Day three. It's Saturday night, and I'm told there's always something going on in the hotel lobby, and indeed there is. In the middle of the ballroom-sized room, I find a woman in her mid-60s with hair that looks like it's been set in curlers the size of toilet paper rolls and dunked in a bucket of hair spray, get up off the couch to dance with a mustachioed man in plaid shorts and suspenders. As I watched the couple, I can't help wondering what my parents

might have looked like dancing here all those years ago. I've only seen them dance at bar mitzvahs, where my father, after two astis spamantes, does this kind of kung fu kicking thing. And my mother frantically hops from foot to foot as though standing outside an unvacent toilet stall. I find a payphone in the lobby and call Montreal. What's the matter? My mother asks. Nothing's the matter, I say. I was just wondering whether you and dad danced when you were in San Juan. Your father made me, she says. He and his brother Sheldon took classes at the Arthur Murray Dance School. One of the seminars was on the cha-cha. I never knew Dad took dance lessons, I say. Your father was always afraid of being a

wallflower, she says. After putting the phone down, as the music blares, I imagine taking off my jacket and whirling it above my head like a helicopter propeller. I imagine doing one of those life-affirming, leg-kicking Zorba the Greek dances. But in the end, I find a nice wall against which I allow my inner wallflower to blossom. Day four. Hello? Hey, Mom. Johnny, what's the matter?

Don't you think that might be a little bit of a negative way to answer a telephone? I can't worry. What number of sunblock are you wearing? I'm in a hotel room. I don't need sunblock. Doesn't matter. The sun shines through the windows there.

I'm wearing 70. Get 90. Don't be a hero. OK. So I wanted to know when you stayed at a result, in the past, even if it's really pretty, don't you end up going a little stir crazy? It's Johnny. He wants to know if we ever left the resort. Your father doesn't like to be trapped.

What are you still grab even? I like to get out and see nature. What's there to see dogs peeing on the ground? Dirt. What is there? There's birds. There's beautiful colored birds. You know I don't like birds. Look, if you like nature so much, go through.

nature so much, go sleep on the porch tonight, and leave me alone. After hanging up, I decide I've wasted enough of the afternoon watching cable TV and peeling sunburnt skin from my shoulders. So I book a trip for tomorrow to Rio Grande to see the rainforests, and like my daddy before me, enjoy me some nature. Day five. Our tour guide is a man named Hector. Hector starts many of his proclamations with, in Puerto

Rico, we have a saying, as in, in Puerto Rico, we have a saying. A grape is a raisin that forgot to die. Almost none of Hector's sayings make any sense, but still he makes learning fun. As we ride through the countryside, he teaches our small group a little Puerto Rican history. We imported snakes to Puerto Rico to eat our rats, he says. But the snakes got out of control, so we imported mongooses to eat the snakes. Now we have rats, snakes, and mongooses. Back at the hotel, I email a picture of myself beside a rainforest waterfall to Gregor.

Several seconds later, I receive an email back, asking me why I'm wearing white leotards under my shorts. Day six. It's the last night on my vacation. I sit at the hotel bar watching the Lakers play on TV. It isn't exactly an evening with Wayne Newton, but it's nice. A couple in their early 20s is seated beside me at the bar. The woman chastises the man for eating bar peanuts.

They're nasty, she says. As we get to talking, they share with me the details of their relationship. They had a fling, and she ended up pregnant. Then they split up. But after reconnecting at their son's first birthday party, They started dating again. This is their very first trip together. I tell them about how my parents had their honeymoon here,

and as I do, it occurs to me that they're sort of on a honeymoon too. I tell them this, and they both smile. I guess we are, he says, reaching for a peanut. How romantic, she says, taking the peanut out of his hands. I try to imagine my parents here, kids in 1966, still doing what they're they always do, bickering, watching TV in bed, except wearing tropical cabana wear and travel money belts fastened so tight around their waists that they can hardly breathe. Day 7. Finally, after a hurried cab ride to the airport and a plane ride back to Montreal,

I'm home. I pick up the phone, and I call up my parents. Hello? Hello, Mom. What's that? Nothing's the matter. Nothing's the matter. Oh, good, good. Where are you? I'm back home. I just wanted to ask you and dad something. Okay. Is he there?

Can he pick up the phone? Yeah. Buzz, pick up the phone! What's up? Nothing much. I'm back in town, and I wanted to ask you guys something. Yeah? Yeah.

You went on your honeymoon to Puerto Rico. What is it already? About 40-odd years ago? Yeah. Do you still feel like you're both the same people that you fell in love with? No. No, I didn't really know your mother

as well as I do now. Well, your father was so good-looking, Johnny. Oh, my God. What becomes of a person? No, you're still good looking. Don't say that like that. Okay, okay, okay. I just like the cologne that he used

and the way he looked. What did I know, Johnny? I was attracted to him. Now I really love him because I know what kind of a person he is. He's a good man. How long did it take to... I appreciate him.

Forty-fort. I took a long time, Johnny. He became like my mother and father. Do you understand? I don't think... I don't know. It's like, you know, he looks out for me. I'm gonna cry. What is the Suez Canal?

I get with that stupid game show. What system? What's this? What's this? enough. It's almost all over. Turn it off already. I please, I have enough knowledge. I, leave me alone. Buzz and Dina Goldstein. So, we finally found a podcast that speaks to you. Pure Bliss. It's so good that when you finish the final episode, it leaves a hole in your heart and your schedule. What now? Personally is here for you. It's a collection of true stories that explore what it means to be, well, human.

The best part, there are six incredible seasons to dive into, with more on the way. Personally, get lost in someone else's life. Available now, wherever you personally get your podcasts. Magnitary Cities. It's a shame tapping on my window. pain. It's a shame never goes away. It's a shame.

Oh, but it's a gentle rain. It's a shame. It's a shame. It's a shame, shame. Shame. We're the same. Wonder why we go insane. We're the same.

That's just how we're made. We're the same. Oh, but in a different way. It's a shame. It's a shame. It's a shame, it's a shame, shame, shame, shame, shame. Sweet our lover,

undercover hiding each other hiding each other Those your lovers only ones to know I would dive into your love I would go and see As my lungs would let me If I were to marry the sea I would dive into your love, I would go as deep. Yes, my arms would let me, if I were made to see.

It's a shame, topping on my window, pain. It's a shame, never goes away. It's a shame, oh, but it's a gentle right. It's a shame, it's a shame, shame, shame, shame. We're the same, wonder why we go insane. We're the same, that's just how we're made. We're the same, oh, but in a different way. It's a shame, it's a shame, it's a shame, shame, shame, shame.

Sweet old lover, undercover, hiding each other, hiding each other, hiding each other. Those young lovers only want to know. to know I would dive into your love now we'd go with me as my bones would let me if I were to marry the sea

I would trym into your love how we'd go with me as my lungs would let me me if I were to make me the sea. Hello. Oh, hey, John. Oh, hey, Josh. What's going on?

I'm just wondering how you doing, and... I'm okay. Yeah? Yeah. You get over that nasty infection? What infection are you... I just always assume you have some sort of infection. I mean, you do a lot of crazy things, right?

I mean, you live in that radio host life. Okay. I mean, you're one of my favorite shock jocks. How am I a shock shock? It's shocking. You're still on the radio. Nice. Okay, thank you. What I'm trying to do, John, is I'm trying to compliment you. Oh, that's why it's so awkward. Why are you trying to compliment me all in a sudden? Can I just be full of love? Much like a pimple about to burst forth with exuberance for you? I think you're great.

Okay, what's this about? Why all the kindness? What's happening here? The last few years, pretty rough. I mean, you know what it's been like for me, an endless, revolving cast of women, and none of it's worked out. I'm feeling, you know, what are the Germans call it? Lonely. And so what can I do you for? It's about us now. It's about male friendships, bonding, you know?

I'm done with women. That part of my life is over, right? I am no longer a player. Josh, you know, I don't know if you were ever really much of a player so much as more of a disgraced referee, impotently blowing into a whistle. Don, you can push me away as much as you want, okay? But all I know is that I'm just attracted to you right now and what you're trying to achieve in your life.

I don't know if I like the sound of that so much. John, it's not about being gay. I didn't say that it's about being gay for men and the friendship of men. I see. Wait, hang on a second. Let's back up here for a minute. Why are you done with women all in a sudden? Have you met women?

Have you spent any time with them? They have no time for the kinds of things I have to offer. Well, what are some of these things you have to offer? Laziness, thrift due the lack of money, lack of ambition, you know, certain odors, things like that. They're not into that. I need someone who accepts me for who I am, somebody who's on the same wavelength. Well, that wouldn't be... Somebody who understands what it means to be a failure.

Someone who just does not care what they look like, what they... Okay, all right, I get the idea. And that means you. And I just think that, you know, we're going to have a happy life together. Uh... Tom, you make it sound so weird. It is slightly weird, don't you think? You got nothing else going on.

Let's be frank. Josh, I'm fine on my own. I have enough going on, okay? There's a certain category of things that I've always wanted to do with the woman in my life, right? Oh, yeah. But there is no woman in my life now. It's you. So we're going to do them together.

I have a whole list. Yeah. Let's start the top, okay? All right. You like cooking, right? You know, I'm not... Yeah, so we're going to take a cooking class together. Listen, I, the image of, you know, you and I in a couple of aprons side by side, I don't know.

You're going to be sitting in front of a pot. water's wheel with my hands reaching around. You don't need me to do these things. See, it's your modesty that draws me to you. You're very modest men. You're modest in your looks, you're modest in your habits, and you're also pretty modest in stature. So I think that we need to bulk you up a little bit,

and I think the best way to put on muscle fast is by yoga. Yoga. That's correct. Didn't you used to work for a yoga magazine? No, it's not about that. It's about the matching unitards I bought us both. You didn't. I got them from Lulu Lemon.

And when Life hands you Lulu Lemons, you squeeze your roo ton, flabby friend into a unit heart. So me and you, me and you taking yoga class. That's right. It's about the breathing, right? Breathe in, breathe in, breathe out. Breathe in, breathe in, breathe in, breathe out. Breathe in, breathe out. That doesn't...

Hold out. That doesn't even sound like you know how to breathe. Well, that's why I find us up for Lamas class. That's where we have to start. Isn't that for, like, pregnant people? Lamaz isn't just for pregnancy anymore. No? It's for male bonding.

Absolutely. No, I don't know of men. Brad Pitt and George Clooney took a Lamas class together. Right. I have big plans for us, okay? This is not a one-shot deal, right? We're going to grow old together. We're going to move to Miami.

We're going to get a condo. We're going to get a couch with leopard skin print on it. It's going to be awesome. And Mori will bring us our drinks every morning, right? One marasino cherry for you, two marasino cherries for me. Who's Mori? Mori is our man-servant. Uh-huh.

Well, I mean, for the time being anyway, right? He's been getting a little cocky as of late. I'm actually thinking of firing him. Josh, this sounds... Why shouldn't I? He put two Marasino cherries in both of our glasses this morning. Okay, Josh, you're delusional. And that cabana girl he runs around with?

Don't think I don't know that she was stealing my cutlery, okay? And I saw her sneaking a cigarette behind the clubhouse. She didn't see me, but I saw her. Oh, I saw her and her little friend. You need help. That's right, I do need help. But God forbid I should get it from you. God forbid you should lift a finger to help me around this house.

What was the last time you put a coaster underneath your beer? You've lost it. Do you know how long I spent trying to find that anti-coffee table? I'm killing you to put the seat down once in a while. I'm hanging up. And you know that when Ben Night the Andersons are having us over for dinner, but you insist on wearing that shirt that I hate. I'm signing you up for Jay Day.

Suspenders. Who gave you the idea you could wear suspenders? Your mother? And by the way, I told you. Mother called on your cell phone only. I don't want her on the mainline. On Wiretap today, you heard Buzz and Dina Goldstein and Joshua Carpatti. Part one of today's show was recorded live at the Tom Hendry Warehouse Theater in Winnipeg

with a performance by Imaginary Cities, whose debut album, Temporary Resident, is available on iTunes or at hiddenpony.ca. Special thanks to recording engineer Joe Dudich, assistant engineer Greg Baboski, Frank Apulco, and Michel Saint-Pierre. Wiretap is produced by Mirabirdwin Tonic, Crystal Duhame, and me, Jonathan Goldstein. For more CBC podcasts, go to cBC.ca.