The Noon Train

Sometimes it takes a trip down South to realize just how treacherous life South of 60 can be. My weekend in Toronto has served as a good reminder of why life in the North is so great - and why trips to the South are so vital.

My Toronto adventure started later than expected, thanks to a delayed flight from Vancouver. I didn't get in and settled until just past 2 am, but thankfully was not slated to meet Norma and Lee until 10 am so I still got a good sleep. The next morning I met up with the ladies for an excellent breakfast at a quirky (by Whitehorse standards) restaurant. Then, in true big city style we headed to "We Will Rock You", the Queen musical. Following our adventures and a fabulous Thai dinner, we parted ways and I headed over to Tony's (my Tony's friend) house where I was bunking for the night.

This was the scene of my first adventure - a late night run. I was fairly excited about this run because it is the very last run before the marathon and my very first run in Toronto. Despite some excellent instructions from Tony's room-mate, I managed to get completely lost from the moment I left the front stoop. Thankfully Toronto has these nifty things called Streetlights that keep your path well lit, even when you have no idea what your path actually is. I decided the easiest thing to do would be run towards the CN tower. It's tall and well lit - the perfect landmark. This worked out fairly well until I realized that no matter how close I thought I was, the CN tower was still further away. I was almost to my goal, when suddenly the street was blocked off and I was forced to turn around...I hadn't realized the tower was right beside Grey Cup. My run back was full of adventure as I managed to get lost on the circular path of Queen's Park.

My biggest adventure was reserved for the next morning. I am usually a big fan of packing light. Being a fan does not always translate into actually packing light. This trip I didn't even bother trying, as I knew that the flight to Vegas would mean an excess of baggage. The consequence of my packing choices was me dragging two suitcases down St. George St. to the Subway. Rolling said bags through leaves and snow was not fun, but nothing compared with what was to come. I arrived at the subway, plunked in my token and started through the gate. The gate was a floor to ceiling contraption that looked something like a revolving door for cattle. I got 2 steps in before realizing that me and my 2 bags were slightly larger then the section of gate. Panic soon set in - me and my 2 bags were wedged in no man's land - we weren't on the "payed passengers only" end, but we'd left the corral. For a moment I was sure that the doors would lock - as my token was the only thing that had unlocked them, and it had been at least 30 seconds since I'd'plunked it in. Using a clever strategy of pulling the big suitcase, sitting on it and pushing the gate forward, I eventually managed to reach the subway side. I kissed the ground (okay, that's a lie - that ground was not kissable) and thanked God that I didn't know anyone in that subway station. The rest of the ride was good, and by the time I arrived at my destination, I had devised a plan to escape the gate with limited (but still present) embarassment.

I managed a quick, but lovely, visit with Lauren before boarding the VIA train to Ottawa. Perhaps next entry will be dedicated to my conflicting feelings about 1st class - it's seems so wrong, but I love it so.

Sierra posted this on Nov 26, 2007 from the outside | | permanent link