Wednesday, August 09, 2006

Things I noticed on my walk home from the stadium yesterday on Monday evening....


As I walked across the bridge that leads from the Rogers Centre across the train tracks and towards John Street, I noticed (for the first time in the literally hundreds of times I’ve walked that route) that there are arrows on the glass sides of the bridge reading “This way to the CN Tower.”

If you need help finding the CN Tower, I'm not sure a simple sign can help you with your problems, brother.

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I passed a street artist selling sketches, and my eye was struck by one particular piece. I first thought it was a photograph, since everything looked so perfect. It was a gorgeously-rendered likeness that clearly took hours to perfectly capture every nuance. The subject? The Trailer Park Boys. Hey, I almost bought it for my brother.

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I passed a crowd in front of the Toronto convention centre that was there for some type of Canadian Idol taping and/or promotion. They were carrying signs and screamed on cue whenever a TV showed their favourite Idol hopeful on-screen. I was struck by the crowd’s diversity --- normally you’d expect a bunch of teeny-boppers, but it was women and men of all ages, colours and creeds. Perhaps Canadian Idol is truly the thing that has brought our country closer together than the railroad or mutual loathing of Spain invading our fishing territories. Remember that? When there was actually some suggestion of a war? That would’ve been the lamest war ever. That would’ve been like seeing two old people have a walker fight….actually, wait, that would actually be pretty awesome. I demand that someone make a series of internet-exclusive ‘Walker-Fight’ videos. I’ll even settle for a video that shows former Expos star Larry Walker battle current Padres infielder Todd Walker. Or, Chuck Norris battling a bottle of Johnnie Walker Red.

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I passed two joggers, both men in their early-to-mid-forties. The one guy was running backwards and tearing a strip off of his buddy, who was moving at a pretty good pace (certainly faster than I could run), and yet obviously not in the league of his backwards-running abuser. The exact quote was, “Move, goddammit! Fuck! Run fucking faster! Fuck!”

These two ran by just as I passed the Idol crowd, which, while not as teeny-bopper filled as I had previously suspected, still had loads of kids in it. Good times. Hopefully the second jogger didn’t pull a Vincent D’Onofrio-in-Full Metal Jacket and gain bloody revenge on his tormenter.

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I passed an ice cream truck...well, I stopped, actually, and got one of those red-white-blue popsicles. Is there a consensus name for these things? I’ve heard everything from ‘Rocket Pops’ to ‘America Pops.’ Here’s my idea: I say we just call them….delicious!

The previous paragraph was paid for by the red-white-blue ice popsicle marketing board.

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I passed the big sports clothing place near Union Station that I somehow can’t remember the name of though I’ve been by it literally hundreds of times. I was looking for a Toronto F.C. shirt, as it may be the one soccer-related garment I’m willing to plunk down some money on. I don’t want to buy a team jersey, since then that implies I’d have to care about the team. Only a singular kind of loser buys a team’s jersey just because they’re good, or because it seems hip. I remember in sixth grade, when Paul Haggis’ nephew showed up with a Montreal Canadiens coat literally within two days of their winning the Stanley Cup. He then had the audacity to claim that he had always been a fan, and just “never talked about it.”

Then again, he was Paul Haggis’ nephew, so maybe I could be working in Hollywood right now if I had been the guy’s pal instead of tormenting him all throughout grade school. C’est la vie.

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