Wednesday we took a street car to Parkdale, the new cool-cat neighborhood in Toronto.
Until then, I'd thought that Torontonians were nice to the point of being deranged. A couple of times I accidentally brushed against someone in a restaurant or stepped on someone's foot in the subway or whatever, and I said, "Oh, I'm sorry." Their reply? "No, I'm sorry."
But this guy on the bus was not like that at all. After he grumped his way to his seat right behind me, he announced to no one: "Looks like everyone's riding today instead of working." A little bit later: "Smells like somebody needs a bath!" He then ruffled his newspaper, sort of hitting me on the back of the head with it.
A Torontonian asshole! I had to snap a picture of this rare creature.
We got out in Parkdale, where ritzy hipster hotels, boutiques, and bars sit next to social services and old churches.
The Gladstone is one of those fancy hotels where each room was decorated by a different artist. We later met one of the artists who designed on this room. (And Chemical Wedding folks, if you still read this blog, I want you to know that he asked about the bag you made for me.)
The Drake is even fancier than the Gladstone. We checked out the cafe.
This is the side of a wedding rentals van.
The Museum of Contemporary Canadian Art is government-funded and free to all visitors. And when we were there, they were showing an artsy porno, "Give Piece of Ass a Chance," in the back. That's right, free government porn. O Canada!
We also checked out the neighboring Edward Day Gallery, which had an exhibit of photos by Andy Summers of the Police in the '80s.
The Police were in town that week, and the Globe and Mail had three pages of stories about how Sting attended a yoga session at the Downward Dog Studio.