CROSSING THE BORDER - Sneaking People Across is Easy! (All You Need is a Uterus)

Last weekend was Baby Shower #1 of three. This one was held by the familia de Johnada, and it was quite a success. My sisters planned a great event, and we got all kinds of wonderful things (including my favourite book when I was a kid, an awesome hand-knitted sweater and a personalized onesie). Now I have to drive home next weekend to get everything.

It was fun to see everyone -- for the three minutes I was allowed to be there, at least. Showers are for womenfolk. So I did what I was supposed to do, I went with Maymard to a bar.

Do they have baby showers in Canada? I'm pretty sure they do.

But let's talk about the border crossing. In Toronto, you technically cross into the U.S. in the airport, so you actually go through U.S. customs before you get on the plane. Good thing we got to the airport early, because we waited in line for over an hour. It was literally out the door. Long waits at airports turn me into a very hard-to-like person, and I pretty much hate everyone else around me. I almost arm wrestled a 75 year-old Italian woman, but the First Lady managed to reel me in.

When I finally got to the customs agent, I was relieved. Until I looked at him. He was gigantic, with big moustache and tattoos everywhere. He looked at my passport and asked if I was going home. I said yes. Then he asked how Chicago could be home if I listed a Toronto address as my residence. I said that depends on your definition of home. He was not amused. Then I said, "Well, I always consider America home, you know." I'm getting better at this stuff. Next time, I'm going to spray paint the flag on my bald head.

Then we went through security where a woman was literally wanding people while talking on her cell phone. Needless to say it took forever! And the alarm kept going off when she scanned the crotches of men. Mine didn't set it off. I wonder if that's good or bad?

After all this we made it to the plane on time. Then we taxied to the runway and sat there for an hour and a half. Good thing I had SkyMall to keep me company. As you can probably guess from the picture above, I'm totally ordering the Pop-Up Hot Dog Cooker.

On Sunday, our flight got cancelled, so we ended up getting home at 2 am. Thanks United Airlines!

United Airlines: -1 Hortons (my first negative ever)
My mother and sisters: 5 Hortons
People who bought (and made) us all the unbelievable stuff (technically rewarding us for fornicating): 5 Hortons

And it the spirit of my friend JT's probably expired blog, my jam of the week:

I WANT TO RIDE MY BICYCLE - Tales of Toronto

After leaving my bicycle outside this past winter, I was not the least bit surprised to find that it had fallen apart when I tried to ride it this spring. This led me into a long, unsuccessful search for a bike that was nice, not a target for bike thieves and in my price range. Johnada is a little picky, and a lot cheap. This is not a good combination for shopping for bikes. Eventually, my mom offered me her old road bike from the 1980s. After dismissing this several times, I finally gave in and brought it back with me after our last trip to the U.S. I have not been the least bit disappointed. I love this bike:
Notice the Canadian flag bell.

Anyway, I've been riding in Toronto for about a month now, and I must admit that I enjoy it quite a bit. I've had no major problems, except for with a few unruly drivers and with other bikers that don't know you're supposed to go around cars turning right. Anyway my biking honeymoon came to an end last Friday. It was a pretty normal ride into work until I crossed the "beautiful" Don Mills River, than everything went wonky.

I passed a guy in the bike lane on his left, and there was a truck about 500 feet behind us that was slowly accelerating out of the light. I had more than enough time. So then the truck catches up to me and starts honking at me. I give him a wave, but he keeps going at the same speed as me and honking. I'm thinking to myself that wasn't even close, why is he making such a big deal out of this. Then I look over at him, and he has a big smile and on his face and is holding my metal water bottle. I immediately smiled at him and said thanks. I told him he could just chuck it out of the window, but with bikers coming this didn't work, so he slows down and hands it to me. I think to myself, I'm glad I wasn't a total prick when he started honking. For the next three blocks I'm riding along, smiling to myself - thinking the world ain't all that bad. There really are nice people. I have no idea how the guy in that truck ended up with the water bottle. Where did I lose it? Did he get out and pick it up? Did another courteous biker hand it to him?

But this would only last so long. At the third or fourth light, I catch up to a guy all decked out in spandex with yellow vests - your stereotypical middle-aged Canadian biker.

He turns to me and says,
"You know why that truck honked at you? Because you almost died. You didn't signal when you passed me and you came within inches of your life."

So I say, "Come on man, it wasn't close. I did not jump out in front of the truck. He was way back there."

But the dude is unrelenting, "So then why did he honk and pull you over to the side of the road?"

"Because I dropped my water bottle back there, and he was kind enough to get it for me."

"Don't lie. You really don't understand the rules of bike riding. I've been biking for 40 years
blah, blah"

"I'm not lying. That's why he stoppped."

"Well he was a very good person for not hitting you."

"Wow, that's not a very nice thing to say."

He kept badgering me like this all the way down Bloor Street. Apparently, what seemed to bother him the most was that I didn't ring my bell when I passed other bikers. I'm sorry, I'm not going to signal when I go around other bikers in the bike lane. Those bells can be annoying, and I think people ignore them if you use them too much. I stop at every light, and I am very courteous to other bikers and cars. But he just kept pestering me, and I kept trying to ignore him/saying words that I shouldn't have.

After this went on all the way through the busiest part of Toronto traffic, He finally had to turn left at Bloor and University, so he was over in the left turn lane. After pestering me for five blocks about all the rules of biking, HE JUMPS THE LIGHT AND TURNS LEFT BEFORE ONCOMING TRAFFIC EVEN THOUGH THERE IS NO TURN SIGNAL!! You can only imagine my reaction. I yelled as loud as I could at him for being a hypocrite, but I was so shocked I don't think it came out too well. I think my voice cracked like I was going through puberty, though I'm sure he got the gist of what I was saying.

Awesome.

Update: After writing this post yesterday, I got hit by a car. I'd say it was some sort of karma for writing about biking, but it was not my fault. The person driving suddenly decided to park on the right side of the street without signalling.

THAT AIN'T LAKE MINNETONKA - It's Lake Ontario and We Can't Get There Because the TTC's on Strike

Though he lived in Minnesota for most of his life, Beernada had some how avoided seeing Purple Rain - a most egregious error that was corrected on Friday night. Thankfully, Beernada is now familiar with the Apollonia Six's "Sex Shooter", the Kid's love/hate relationship with Wendy and the purifying powers of Lake Minnetonka.

After B and S left, the First Lady and I brushed our teeth and got ready for a gentle night's sleep with dreams of Darling Nikki dancing in our heads. Suddenly, the phone rang. We don't often get calls after midnight on a Friday, so my immediate thought was that either something bad had happened or Beernada had seen people drinking Labatts. Luckily, neither of these proved true. Instead it was the Scientorian explaining that the Toronto public transit workers (TTC) had suddenly gone on strike, and we hopped out of bed and got into the car to pick up our stranded friends.I'm all for labour having rights and being organized, but going on strike on a Friday night at midnight with no warning is absolutely idiotic. The TTC had previously promised 48 hours notice for the public before they would begin a strike. Since B and S live all the way across town, we got to drive by TTC stop after TTC stop with drunk people lined up outside subway stations - they did not look pleased. Then Saturday morning, there were reports of all kinds of people who could not get to work. Guess what type of person has to ride public transit to work on a Saturday? If you said lawyer, you're not very in touch with reality. So the strike ends up hurting poor people - good job TTC.

I'm a big fan of the Toronto public transit system normally. The subway gets me to work in 20 minutes, and though the streetcars are slow, they are very dependable. My biggest complaint is about the price compared to other cities, but in reality I'm saving a bundle with the high cost of gas these days.

Purple Rain - 4.3 Hortons
TTC Strike - 0 Hortons
TTC under normal conditions - 3.98 Hortons

P.S. - If you're ever in Las Vegas, I highly recommend Purple Reign.

LIVE FREE OR DIE HARD - Johnada Invades the Midwest

Last week I headed up an official envoy of the Johnadian government to promote our country in Chicago and Indianapolis. I mostly stayed with my friends Shancho and Maynard. Here is the report:

Day 1 - Upon my arrival, I am treated to a royal gala with a performance by the musical act Hot Chip. It turns out, that I am not too old to dance. Unfortunately, I am too old to have tacos at 2 in the morning.

Day 2 - I rent a car and travel to Indianapolis to visit my father. On the way to the car rental place the driver of the subway car I am riding announces that she's running late, and she's going to get off the train. She also mentions her supervisor will be here in a few minutes to take us the rest of the way. The supervisor takes twenty minutes. When I finally get to the rental car place the customer service person answers the phone while she's helping me. She then talks to a different customer for 15 minutes right in the middle of "helping" me get my car! Canadians are too nice to do crap like this. (Maybe not, but I'll pretend they are.) Once I arrive in Indianapolis, I spread grass seed, rip a tree out of the ground with my bare hands and eat some lovely Mexican food. We watch the Cubs in High Definition and Johnada Sr. seems to be doing well.

Day 3 - I return to Chicago and return the rental car. At some point on the Chicago Subway my foot mysteriously starts hurting until I eventually can't even walk on it. I find the courage to limp my way to another excellent Mexican restaurant. This is followed by some fun karaoke and beer so cheap that I must be in the U.S. When our names are called, I walk to the stage like a zombie, then Shancho and I rip through a wonderful version of "Islands in the Stream". Afterwards we decide to go to the Smart Bar in Chicago. Looking back it doesn't make sense that I would agree to go to a dance club with a foot I can barely walk on. Fortunately for me, they refuse entry to Maynard because he appears to be "overserved". To be honest, I've seen the man overserved before, and this was not one of those occasions. He walks with that stagger, er I mean swagger, all the time. (FYI - you suck Smart Bar bouncer Ian Johnson). To make us all feel better it was time to cap the day with a late night viewing of Die Hard 4. Everyone falls asleep during the movie -when I wake up the next morning, Die Hard 4 is somehow still playing.

Day 4 - My foot is mysteriously healed when I wake up. Maybe I just needed the healing voice of John Mclane. We go to see the Cubs play at Wrigley Field. They crush the Pittsburgh Pirates, I drink an Old Style and make my first official purchase for my unborn child (a Cubs pacifier). This, my friends, is as good as it gets. Later, after a visit to Beernada's idea of heaven, the Cub's victory is celebrated by a viewing of Die Hard 3. I'm beginning to think these Americans really love this Bruce Willis fellow. All I can say is that I really like his hair cut.

Day 5 - I have a wonderful lunch with Momerica at a restaurant right at the beginning of Route 66. Then there is a closing night gala with performances by Iron & Wine and Califone. While at a bar afterwards meeting my second oldest friend the Smoke, I randomly meet up with my oldest friend - Natamatron. This wouldn't be that weird, except that he lives in NYC and we had no idea that each other were in town. Wonderful coincidence. More karaoke, but this time the DJ guy didn't get to me. This made me angry. Don't they know who I am? I announce to the whole bar that Johnada doesn't take this kind of thing sitting down. Next think I know I'm outside, but standing up. It's too bad because Natamatron and his sisters performance was excellent. Anyway, when you're in Chicago DO NOT GO to Trader Todd's.

Day 6 - After a rough landing in Toronto, I can't wait to get home. Too bad it takes about 1.5 hours via public transit. I guess I should complain since I celebrated Earth Day by flying in a giant airplane that was about 1/3 full.

Final Thoughts - I ate Mexican food three times, but I still wanted more. I also really enjoyed a free market economy for beer. Thanks America for that. I also passed about 400 Dunkin Donuts - America and Canada aren't that different in some respects. And finally I discovered that nobody I know cares about me anymore. For some reason, all anybody was interested in was the absent First Lady and her precious cargo. I guess I should get used to it.

Hot Chip - 4 Dunkins
CTA - 2.0 Dunkins
Indianapolis Mexican Food - 4 Dunkins
Chicago Mexican Restaurant - 4.34 Dunkins
1st Karaoke Bar - 4.1 Dunkins
Die Hard 4 - 3.454554 Dunkins
Cubs and Wrigley Field - 5 Dunkins
Hop Leaf - 4.333 Dunkins
Die Hard 3 - 1.98 Dunkins
Califone - 4 Dunkins
Iron & Wine - 2.46 Dunkins
Trader Todds - 0.0 Dunkins

ODE TO THE 506

Another morning dawns in Toronto. I open the blinds and there you are, mocking me. You shoot right past my window, dressed in red and white though sometimes you dress in pink.

You wind past Jimmy's, past that Irish bar we always want to go to, but never seem to get to. You make that weird turn at Coxwell, where you're on Gerrard then you're not on Gerrard, then you're on Gerrard. After that, you're in the India Bazaar. Oh how I love the the Lahore Tikka House. Then it's full steam ahead past about eight Pizza Pizzas until you arrive at the East China Town.

You pass a library, prison and then it's over the picturesque Don River (with purple oil slicks), second only to the Calumet Sag as North America's most disgusting waterway. Then the so-called Toronto Housing Projects, which look more like a retirement community to my hardened American eyes. They're certainly not Cabrini Green. You zoom past Cabbage Town, the Gay Village. Past the old Maple Leaf Gardens, which is supposed to turn into a grocery store. Poor Maple Leaf Gardens.

Suddenly you're on College Street and you rumble through the heart of the city. Right past Yonge Street - where they filmed part of the new Hulk movie. You pass the Legislative Assembly of Ontario where the Ontario Parliament does whatever it is they do in the Ontario Parliament. Then you lurch and crawl past the University of Toronto, where thousands of future Canadian leaders wear black stretch pants, boots and talk way too much on their cell phones.

As you cross Spadina, you meet up with Old Chinatown. Two Chinatowns in one trip - not bad for a streetcar in a town not called San Francisco. Next it's the northern end of Kensington Market, where I like to grab a taco, the Wife likes to grab vintage clothing, and the hippies like to grab something else.

You zoom through Little Italy and all the Italian and Portugese shops. Pass the Mod Club, which is a great place to see a show, and apparently a good place to dance. But Johnada's too old, so now he only dances in his living room.

To be honest, I know you continue on, but I don't know much about what happens after that. I know you eventually get to Roncessvalles, which is a nice neighbourhood that I have trouble pronouncing. But it's got good peirogies. Then you turn around at High Park and do it all over again.

You rumble by all night long, while I slumber away just meters away from your tracks - bringing the drunks home and making Balki stir.