Tuesday, May 06, 2008

How to get lost in Canada when you're dead.


I've always had a certain admiration for our neighbor's to the north. Some of this, I suppose. is a natural effect of growing up in northern Minnesota and playing hockey-their national sport. I also hold in high esteem the idealism of socialized medicine, the quirky comedians, safe cities, bilingualism, mounted police, cold climate, strong beer.

My GF and I found ourselves in Toronto, Ont (sensitive business) a few weeks ago. We went from MKE to DTW to whatever the fuck the code is for Toronto-Pearson. Filled out those silly customs cards. Made it through customs. "What are you here for?" We are here to assassinate your PM. "ok, have fun."

We hopped into the first available cab. Bags in check, we were ready to depart. "156 Richmond west, please." Newly minted Arab cab driver fumbles with his GPS for a few minutes and leaves without getting the GPS to link up. He heads toward downtown, manages to get off on an exit not too far from our hotel, but then his fucking head exploded. Calls dispatch, and I manage to understand only bits and pieces of what he says. We make it to the correct street, but he has no idea whether to make a left or right. He chose right, I was fairly sure that was the proper direction. He's not. At a stoplight he suddenly jumps out of the cab and accosts to poor lady behind us. Friendly as ever (from Manitoba, perhaps!), she tells him where our hotel is......the downtown Hilton is always so hard to find.

Beers and wings at the hotel bar made it better for that night. Beds were comfortable, but the next few days and ultimate result were forgettable. We were back stateside in a few days-via DTW (they have a nice sushi bar in the airport!).

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