Toronto: A Review of Sorts

Last month I spent a few days in Toronto. I've been to Toronto before - the first time at the painful age of 19, complete with blue mohawk and tickets to see Nirvana (and the Meatpuppets and the Boredoms) at Maple Leaf Gardens. After that particular concert, I walked back to my cousin's place, to the sketchy part of Queen Street West. The next day I realized that was probably a stupid thing for a female with no martial arts skills to do at 1 in the morning. I've done a lot of stupid things in Toronto - it was the very first time I puked due to way too much alcohol (but I did play the best pool game of my life that same night). Two years ago I vomited all over my pal Xie's bathroom and then almost passed out on her balcony. It's great to see how much I've matured.

Alas, Xie is no longer in Toronto - but other friends are, and I had a lot of fun with those friends. Downtown Toronto is very active on a Thursday night/Friday morning at 1 AM: sanitation workers were sanitizing, construction workers were constructing, and there were cops everywhere - which makes it difficult for a youngish woman to have a ...... smoke while walking back to her hotel. Difficult, but not impossible.

Here is evidence of my late night ramblings:



Obviously, my scannering skills need some improvement. Or my ability to enlarge things. Don't squint, it's not attractive.

The receipt on the left is from a bar where W and I drank some very nice Polish beer that I once knew the name of but now I do not. The other receipt where I have tried to REALLY SHOW YOU THE TIME is from the drugstore where I bought some visine at 1:21 am. Eye drops are useful for when you don't get enough sleep but need to appear awake and alert the next day. They are also handy if you get red eyes for other reasons, such as being filled with an overwhelming sense of despair and feelings of utter futility whilst at work, and need to hide any girlie-weeping-in-the-bathroom evidence from prying eyes. (But not me, mom! Don't you worry! Work is an exciting challenge each day that I look forward to with anticipation and wonderment!)

I mostly walked and walked and walked - and had some killer painful blisters to show for it - but sometimes I took the streetcar. Below is a souvenir from one of those streetcar trips where I saw a mohawked woman with more grey hair and wrinkles and tattoos on her face than me.

The Toronto transfer is on the right. A Montreal transfer is on the left.




Here are the transfers' backsides:



Now, I know it's dull to compare Toronto and Montreal. They are very different from each other, and shouldn't be compared. But. These transfers say all sorts of interesting things. The Montreal transfer is devoid of all information, save for a set of arrows to let you know which side to stick in the machine at the metro and a time for when it expires.

But the Toronto transfer is barking information at you. It's the 307th day of the year! It's Saturday night! We are the Toronto Transit Commission! Thank you!

When you turn it over, there is the date, the day number, and instructions:

Must be obtained from operator at time fare is paid.
Must be used at first available transfer point (cannot walk to next stop.)
Must be used on day of issue within reasonable time allowance to the transfer point. Not valid for stopover.
Must be issued by the person to whom issued.
Must be retained and shown when requested on Proof of Payment routes.

Then some phone numbers -- three different ones depending on what your intentions are -- the website (twice) -- and a final "Thank you."

The Montreal transfer is completely devoid of information, aside from the holes so that a machine can read it. If the machine chooses to read it.

Montreal gives you no information. It is blank - you can do whatever you want with it, but it's not going to share any information with you very easily.

Toronto is eager and polite - but fascist, too.