Thursday, April 30, 2009

In a Toronto minute

While coming home from grocery shopping in a taxi today, the following events took place, within about two minutes time.

Background: we live in Chinatown on an odd little street, known by few. Accessing our street by car is a complicated production. One entry point is a narrow laneway that meets Dundas street, situated between two banks, and it's a favourite spot to hang around in your car to wait for shopping friends and family, perhaps read the paper or even to take a nap.

So, my taxi pulls up the corner to make the turn into the laneway and of course, there is a minivan sitting there. The taxi driver honks, we wait, and the driver honks again.

Then, two twenty-something guys, who were obviously high, come up to the taxi and one of them starts to open my door. I say "hi!" through my window and one guy says "hi!" And this conversation ensues:

Me: "What are you doing?"

Stoned guy #1: "We're going to the Eaton Centre!"

Me: "Well I am going home with my groceries!"

Driver: "This is a customer!"

Stoned guy #1: "Oh...."

And he finally closes the door.

Meanwhile, the minivan is still sitting in the laneway, so we continue to wait. After a momment the driver honks his horn and OF COURSE the stoned guys think he is honking at them, they return to the car and try to open my door again. I say "NOT YOU!" and one of them says "oh..."

I ask the driver "can you unlock my door please?" and he asks "where are you going madam?" "I am going to move the minivan," I answer.

I exit the car and at this time the driver of the minivan unrolls his window so I call to him, "sir, you can not sit here, this is the only way to access a street."

And he yells, "I AM GOING OUT!"

So I yell back, "THEN GO OUT!"

He yells, "I CAN'T! IT IS TOO BUSY!"

(Oh, side notes: it is raining, and by this time my hair has reverted back to it's preferred bushy-poodle-in-a-hurricane-like state. Also, it is always busy in Chinatown.)

I am at his window now and I say, "then you have to back up."

And he yells, in my face, "WHY SHOULD I BACK UP FOR YOU?"

So I say, in a tone that could freeze hell, "because I &*!$^*#$ing said so."

And he replies "oh..."

I return to my taxi, and Mr. Mad Minivan turns out into the street.

My taxi driver says "otherwise, it's been a very quiet day."

When I told this story to my husband he said (you guessed it), "you need a blog."