Aaron and Cori’s honeymoon at Niagara Falls takes a surprising turn when they meet a desperate father searching for his family. From parting a line of tourists to confronting personal fears, this episode weaves two unforgettable stories of love and resilience against the backdrop of one of the world’s natural wonders. Discover how a simple boat ride turned into a journey neither would ever forget.
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Story created & performed by: Aaron Calafato
Senior Audio Engineer: Ken Wendt
Additional vocals: Cori Birce
Art: Pete Whitehead
Original Music: thomas j. duke
TRANSCRIPT
Aaron Calafato
Happy birthday to Cori’s friend, a friend of the show, our friend, Molly Winkler. And for those of you listening, if you want a birthday shoutout for someone you love, head over to 7minutestoriespod.com, hit the contact form, and we’ll see if we can make it happen. Also, Happy Thanksgiving!
Now, let’s get to it.
Cori and I were standing in what could be considered the longest line in Canadian history. I say “Canada” because Cori and I were on our honeymoon at Niagara Falls. We were waiting in line for what I think is called "Journey into the Mist." On the New York side, there’s Maid of the Mist, and on the Canadian side, you have Journey into the Mist.
Anyway, it’s the boat ride that takes you into the mist under the falls. A majestic experience, or so we were told. We’d already waited nearly an hour just to get the tickets—it was an odyssey involving six different credit cards. Finally, we secured our tickets, which included a specific departure time. Miss that time, and you’d be stuck waiting another full day.
As we were standing in line, a man seemingly appeared out of nowhere, sprinting up to us. “What time does your ticket say? Can I see your tickets?” he asked, breathlessly.
Immediately, I thought we were about to get scammed. But then I saw something in his eyes—a mix of fear and desperation—that told a very different story. And I’m going to tell you that story right after the music.
Cori and I were on our honeymoon at Niagara Falls. The first day was all about the fun stuff—Clifton Hill, wax museums, the tilted house, overpriced fair food. We even paid way too much for terrible spaghetti and meatballs. You know, all the usual tourist traps.
But the next day was reserved for the main event: the falls. Specifically, the boat ride into the mist.
We were standing in line when this guy came up to us, frantic. He said, “I can’t find my family. My wife and kid have our tickets, and I had to park the car. My phone is dead. I don’t know where they are, but we’re supposed to be on this boat together.”
This guy was Canadian, and at first, I thought, “Aren’t you from here?” Then I realized Canada is a massive country—of course there are Canadians visiting Niagara Falls too. He explained that they had driven two hours to get here, saved for this trip for two years, and now he couldn’t find his family.
He said his daughter had been dreaming about this trip for ages. Her favorite thing in the world is Niagara Falls, and she’d asked him, “Dad, can you take me on a boat to the falls?” He had promised her the experience, and now he was about to miss it. He was heartbroken, saying, “The only memory my daughter will have is asking, ‘Where’s Daddy?’”
Cori and I looked at each other and said, “This guy has to get on that boat. He has to find his family.”
But the line was enormous. We were in the longest line in Canadian history! And being Canadian, he was stereotypically polite: “I don’t want to cut. I don’t want to bother anyone.”
I said, “No, man. You’re cutting. This is family we’re talking about.”
So, I started yelling. “Let this man through! He’s lost his family!” The crowd parted like the Red Sea, and he ran forward.
All I could think was, “I hope his story ends the way it should.”
Meanwhile, Cori and I continued to wait in line, eventually making it to the elevator. I hate elevators, but you have to take one to descend what feels like to the center of the Earth to reach the boat launch. Cori held my hand, and I somehow managed to get through it.
We finally got to the boat launch, put on our ponchos, and prepared for our own adventure. But I couldn’t stop thinking about that guy and his family. It was like a movie playing in my head.
Once we were on the boat, I started to feel the magic of the experience. The mist, the roar of the falls—it was breathtaking. Cori and I kissed, and it felt like something out of a movie.
But in the back of my mind, I kept wondering: Did that guy find his family?
When we docked and got off the boat, I finally saw him—with his wife and daughter! I ran up to him and said, “Hey, remember us? We’re the ones who helped you cut the line. Did you find your family?”
He smiled and said, “Yes, but there was a twist. We ended up on separate boats.”
He explained that his wife and daughter got on an earlier boat, while he was on a later one. They had passed each other in the mist, waving to one another like ships in the night—or, in this case, ships in the day.
But he said, “It all worked out. My daughter saw me from her boat, and she yelled, ‘Daddy, you made it!’”
Two stories, two endings fit for the big screen—all in one day.
It has to be the magic of Niagara Falls.
I’ll talk to you next week.
