Two tales one city

Picking a “favorite” place isn’t easy. You’d think I’d say Las Vegas since I grew up there, but that’s home, not a getaway. I’ve taken a few California trips, and I’ve technically “been” to Germany and Ireland—if airport terminals count as cultural experiences. Spoiler: they don’t.

The place that really stands out is London, Ontario.

The first time I went was back in my single days with some friends. It was the usual recipe: alcohol, women, music, and a bunch of young guys thinking they owned the night. I had a great time—even if I did eventually end up separated from the group, doing my own slightly-off-the-map version of the adventure. But the whole weekend had enough good vibes that I remembered it years later as a place worth going back to.

And that’s exactly what happened. About a decade later, I returned with my wife, Brigitte, for our anniversary. That trip took everything I liked about the first time and leveled it up. No chaos, no wandering in the wrong direction—just us, laughing, exploring, and enjoying the kind of weekend that actually sticks with you in all the right ways.

It’s funny how the same city can give you two great stories—one wild, one meaningful. So London, Ontario takes the crown for me, not just because of what happened there, but because of the memories from both chapters of my life.

Mic G