Posted on
July 9th, 2013
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I usually walk to and from the office, but yesterday’s touch of rain made me alter my regular plans.
The longest part of the trip was getting out of the subway station, but that might’ve been more tolerable had it not been for the special TTC constables who were not only not attempting to direct the flow of ever-growing foot traffic, but were actually misdirecting people and spreading false stories.
“Union Station is completely shut down, people! Nothing’s running! Nothing! The entire city is shut down, no one has any power, so no one’s going anywhere! Everything’s flooded!”
Luckily the incredulous crowd had their own plans to get to wherever they were going and only wanted facts, which they soon realized they would not get from the “authorities”, each of which had their own version of events.
“Toronto has persevered; we have weathered the storm,” Ford said, before stressing the need to reduce electricity consumption over the next 24 hours.
“This is crucial that we all reduce our electricity for today to help relieve the strain on our hydro system. We’re hanging on by a thread right now,” he said.
There was a brief, bright flash of sun during which I ventured out to eat lunch — I’ve decided Sushi Queen is my sushi joint of choice along the Queen strip, despite incessantly playing Rogers and Hammerstein show tunes over the meal. Fresh sushi / sashimi, good tempura, and a teriyaki that actually tastes and smells good. Surprisingly rare, that last one.
Then it clouded over again in the afternoon, and everything goes kinda hazy again after that.
I believe Sarah Thomson threw in the towel and is now joining forces with George Smitherman in the upcoming election. And maybe it’s a fuzzy recollection but I thought I remembered the Star starting up a new series called “The Smell Test” where they dissect election promises for feasibility. Will the Star-backed champion win, I wonder?
But it may just be fuzzy dream also. Just that kind of a day, you know?
Ladies and gentlemen, Mister Chet Baker on vocals and horn, and Patrick on the shutter:
In the past few days anyone stepping off a plane for the first time at Pearson or City Centre Airport probably got a bit of a rude awakening to the real Toronto.
I do my best to try to warn people that, no really, it gets pretty fucking hot here in the summers, but usually I just get an incredulous expression in response. When I compare recent Toronto temperatures (31 Celcius / 88 Fahrenheit) to, say, The Bahamas (30 Celcius / 86 Fahrenheit), they just kind of look at me funny, like maybe I’ve been spending too much time in the igloo or something.
It’s a bit warm for May, granted, but not by much.
“Yeah, but it’s not a humid heat like they get on the islands”, is often the next follow-up. Once again, spoken by someone who hasn’t been to Toronto in the summer. No, it really is. It can get as soupy here as it does in Hong Kong or Jamaica. I mean, did you ever wonder how south Asians, East Indians, West Indians, and people from similar countries could manage to live in Toronto if it’s some dreary northern podunk town? That’s because it’s not so foreign to them. In the winter they’re usually a miserable bunch, but in the summer they’re right at home. Right from the horse’s mouth that.
What a weekend, dear reader. And I don’t mean that in a good way. It’ll have to be written into the history books as The Great Umbrella Massacre of 2010.
My own, newly purchased brolly barely withstood a day before snapping. I won’t have to put it down just yet, but it’s limping, and that kind of umbrella doesn’t have long. Still, it fared better than some of it’s brothers and sisters.
I should warn you now, if you have a weak stomach for this sort of thing, you may want to look away.
I guess this is the time of year when spring starts to wrestle with winter. March is usually described as some kind of awful lamby-lion hybrid, it’s recessive and dominant genes leaving a trail of destruction in their path as they duke it out across the city. I’d say that this is an accurate description.
Naturally, I didn’t venture out much. But I did at least get to survey some of the carnage afterward; and I was mortified at what I saw:
To be cast off so ingloriously, what a horrible waste. And the indignities didn’t stop there; umbrellas littered the streets for some time afterward, even as the winds were subsiding and life was returning to normal:
Okay, whoever’s responsible for the weather needs to just stop and look at what they’re doing, because this isn’t right. To begin with, you’ve got the evening rolling in earlier and earlier.
Actually, that part’s normal. But the cold … where did that come from? Suddenly everyone’s got a coat on and the inappropriately tiny-clothed are dashing for their lives down the street, frantically clutching at their frigid bodies, screaming as they scramble for the nearest entrance. And now they’re stuck in a coffee shop for the night.
Despite my multifaceted enjoyment of underdressed ladies, however, I must profess that they probably had a good reason for being so today. I had on an undershirt, button-down shirt, and fall jacket, and still my armpit hair stood on end from the cold. I simply don’t think anyone expected the wind and the temperature drop. I’m sure that come spring, this kind of weather will be a pleasant preview of the summer to come, but right now it has a pretty mean looking winter breathing down its neck.
I don’t consider myself slight. Slender, I am not. But I didn’t think that the scarves, parkas, mitts, and toques I experienced tonight were too much.
There it is, harsh reality disguised as a smiling silhouette: we’ve totally skipped autumn and gone right to winter! The weather people claim it’s normal and that past years have been freakishly warm. I would beg to differ. But I can’t because my fingers are starting to go numb. The landlord hasn’t turned on the heat yet so I’m warming myself by the glow of the computer. Too bad light doesn’t keep you warm. Damn eco-friendly bastard!
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