It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas...

The View From My Terrace

Well. It happened. My heart grew three sizes today. Grinch no more says I. I don’t know when it happened, or how it happened. It crept up on me and I didn’t even see it coming. I am so full of Christmas Cheer at the moment, that I could barf a big red and green holiday sweater.

As I look out my window from my third floor apartment, all is covered in a blanket of white. It’s a flippin’ Christmas Card out there. Usually I would curse and moan – mainly because I look ridiculous in a touque and don’t enjoy getting ridiculed in public – but today, I find myself giddy and smiling like Keith Richards in front of an unlocked medicine cabinet in a hospital ER. It’s beginning to look, and feel, a lot like Christmas. Even someone as sarcastic and flippant as me, can’t help but feel a little tingle in my heart (I blame the residual rum and eggnog coursing through my veins).

Perhaps it started as I basked in the euphoria that ensued following finishing my Christmas shopping in one night (or perhaps it was the excitement of the bloodlust and carnage I left in my wake that did it for me)? Or maybe old Father Christmas got his lard-laden paws on me as I was being pelted in the face with ice daggers, hurtling at me in 60KM an hour winds during our first snowstorm of the year yesterday? (In white out conditions that shit could creep up on a man)

My best guess, however, is that it happened because yesterday I was party to a Christmas Miracle. Yesterday was perfection. It started off like any other day (except that Mother Nature was PMSing big time and taking it out on us). 20cm of snow and 60km/hr winds would pummel our fair city throughout the day.

My commute was uneventful – no random groping, no drunken vigilantes, and everyone even decided to wear deodorant. When I got to work, the snow had already started and never let up. We got the call at precisely 11:10am: “Hello God, is that you? It’s us, the Toronto Office.” As it turned out, our head office in NY had shut down for the day due to the storm. We were told to monitor the storm and we would hear back at noon. We shut er’ down! Our office closed at noon yesterday. It was a Christmas Miracle!

I felt like a kid again! I had not had a “snow day” in about 17 years. It was like waking up and not having to go to school. Sheer joy. I wanted to run into the street and make a snow fort or pelt someone with snowballs…I went and drank instead.

I called my pseudo-girlfriend Jocelyn and we met up for a leisurely lunch. We shared soup, creamy pasta, wine, dessert – all while watching the snow fall outside – it was very “Lady and the Tramp” – well, more like “Lady and the Tramp Clog Their Arteries”. Bellies full, we then parted ways (but not before taking pics in the snow) and I finished up my errands, walking the city for three hours in the relentless storm. Even though my hair and face literally turned to ice (I looked like that Neanderthal guy they pulled out of the arctic – or more pointedly, a scrawny, geeky version of Brendan Frazier’s ‘Encino Man’), I loved every minute of it.  Yes, I have made an appointment with a psychiatrist.

Joce and I trying to keep our eyes open for the photo

King Street in the Storm

Upon returning home, I did what I do best. I napped. No alarms, no need to get up for any reason, it was heaven. Then my friend came over and we watched xmas movies, chatted and had dinner. Our dinner consisted of Bailey’s, rum and eggnog, wine, and my newest holiday invention – Kahlua, coffee and eggnog. Christmas Miracle number 2! Delicious; a must try. Once Erin left, (due to the 2 coffees I had), I couldn’t sleep.  I stayed up and wrapped a few presents while watching Frank Capra’s “It’s a Wonderful Life” getting drunk on rum and eggnog.

You see, for me, it isn’t Christmas until I watch Dr. Seuss’ How the Grinch Stole Christmas (cartoon of course!) and until I see a drunken and delirious George Bailey run through the streets of Bedford Falls slurring and screaming a-la Courtney Love: “Merry Christmas Bedford Falls! Merry Christmas Oak Tree! Merry Christmas Movie Theatre! Merry Christmas token minority!” I don’t care that it’s melodramatic. I don’t care that it is highly predictable. I don’t care that he has a kid named flippin’ Zou Zou (what the heck is up with that?). I say bring on the shmaltz. It gets me every time. 

We all have our holiday traditions that signify Christmas to us – this is mine. Perhaps I have such an affinity to The Grinch and It’s a Wonderful Life because every year I watched them with my mom, sister and brother and then my Step dad when he was crazy enough to join our clan and it brings all that back – or perhaps it is because the Grinch IS my brother – and drunken, yellin’ George Bailey prepares me for what is to come at Christmas dinner. Whatever it is, ‘tis the season. Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night!

But all this shit best be gone come December 26. … I’m just sayin’.

But wait... you didn't even buy me dinner...

I have recently rejoined the work force after three blissful months of travelling, reconnecting with friends, and basically doing whatever the heck I felt like whenever the heck I felt like it... ahhh unemployment. Well, I suppose 'unemployment' is the wrong term as I technically had a job, it just didn't start for a while. So, for all of you TV people out there, I was on hiatus - and now back to our regularly scheduled program - namely, the 9 to 5.

I have to say, I am lucky and am enjoying my new job (the first three days at least). However, this morning, johnny d was smacked in the face (or the ass really) with reality. GOOD MORNING TORONTO! How could I forget the morning commute during rush hour on the TTC?! I guess jobs are like childbirth (or what my understanding of childbirth is anyway) - we always forget about the bad parts when it is time for the next one.

My new job dictates that I am in the office from 9 to 5 daily due to the various time zones we deal with - being a company with global offices. In all of my previous jobs, I was able to work 8-4 or 7:30 - 3:30. You may call me a glutton for punishment, or think that I have an affinity for the morning call of the rooster, but I have to say, my greatest impetus for choosing to go to work earlier was to avoid (at all costs) the mayhem of the morning commute at rush hour...

I fully expected my two months in Beijing to make the morning commute a breeze, even laughable. You see, whereas Toronto's mobile subterranean sardine cans pack in hundreds of riders each morning, those of Beijing attempt to squeeze Costco size portions into specialty-food-store-sized tins.... When you find yourself cross checking a 194 year old great-great-great-great-great-grandmother the size of smurfette out of your way to board a train because you realize that said ancient smurfette is, in fact, a lethal ninja master whose defensively raised elbows could leave a man sterile and you don't want to let train number five pass you by so you are not late for work, you will understand the sheer mayhem and volume that is the Beijing subway system. No matter the training I got in Beijing, nothing prepared me for what happened today.

Nobody expects to get groped at 8:23 in the morning (yes I was so confused, the only place I had to look was my watch). Sure, I have had a small little Guatemalan lady wrap her arms around me to stop herself as she dashed into a packed train on a certain day in February, only to look up at me and say "...ummmm... happy...Valentine's Day?" (her timing was so perfect that all I could do was respond "hey lady, everyone needs lovin' on Valentine's" - true story) And yes, of course I have had someone accidentally hold my hand thinking they were grabbing the pole beside me - but I have never been groped.....until today.

Today's train seemed to be extra packed. Perhaps i was just extra agitated because I had only had one cup of coffee so far at that point. Who knows? Anycrap, it was a tight squeeze. I was being polite and had taken off my backpack and put it between my legs and turned sideways facing the divider between the door and the adjacent seat to make as much room as possible. All was well. I am a very considerate commuter and things were humming along - or perhaps that was just me while listening to my iPod? We had passed a few stops and, as I heard the TTC chimes, I remember thinking to myself that the TTC's subliminal message must be working. (A little known fact is that the three notes that signal the opening and closing of the TTC doors are the first three notes of the Sesame Street Theme - "sun-ny day" - please now refer to my blog about my obsession with googling...)

With each homage to Sesame Street, the expected jostling and repositioning of bodies ensued - everyone respectful of other people's space...until I felt a hand on my ass followed by a body sandwiched against my back. Out of shock, I quickly turned my head to see who the offender was. I had to look down. My first thought, due to the time of year, was that I had fallen victim to a disgruntled elf on leave from the North Pole. As it turns out, it was just a very short man.

Me, being the understanding commuter that I am, gave the disgruntled elf the benefit of the doubt thinking he just didn't possess the body mass to keep himself stationary as the train lurched into motion and, with no accessible pole to hang onto, he reached out for the fist thing in his path - my posterior. When the pressing continued, happening even when the train was smoothly in motion, however, I had to reconsider my initial belief. Then, when I felt his hand moving repeatedly up and down my back (under the guise of him adjusting his coat's zipper I am sure) I knew I had a mini-perv on my hands. I was about to go all beijing subway on his ass (and in my world that means politely step to the side, pretending the sordid incident in question never happened) but luckily I didn't have to. At the next stop with the jostling of people getting on and off the train a giant of a man, very reminiscent of Lurch from the Addams Family actually - the complete antithesis of miniperv aka disgruntled elf - wedged himself between myself and my offender, thus shielding me from any further groping. Exiting the train, I thought to myself that many people would have at least had to buy drinks and dinner before trying a move like that on someone... I was enraged.

Funnily enough as it turns out, I did get my drink in the end... Coming home from work today on the subway a man who had clearly drank the entire "whiskey section" in the LCBO and then bathed in 120 proof rum for good measure got on my car two stops before I exited.  He was standing two feet away from me. I instantly thought I was back in first year University.  I also believe I was 'second hand drunk' almost instantly merely from the fumes seeping from his body. It turned out to be exactly like first year! A bar room - excuse me, subway car - brawl almost broke out! Said man - we will call him Drunky McDrunkerson for the sake of this blog - staggered and body checked the man standing next to him... the man (who could definitely handle himself) was polite about it, yet must have muttered something under his breath because McDrunkerson then proceeded to shout out (droplets of spittle spraying my glasses) "don't expletive with me man, let me tell you, I will expletive you expletively up! Absa-expletively-lutely!" (with a few expletives thrown in for good measure)... He staggered off at the next stop, leaving us all to recover from our hangovers.

So, today my Sesame Street inspired "Sunny day" on the subway consisted of me getting felt up, given alcohol against my will and being involved in a fight. It was almost like a date.... only the dinner was missing. So, Toronto Transit Commission, yes, you plied me with alcohol, but if you are going to take advantage of me in future, the least you could do is buy me dinner first. It would be the classy thing to do.

Do I smell a food fight coming on during my commute tomorrow????

God I love the TTC!  Truly.  If anything, it is always entertaining. And, in their defense, their slogan does clearly state "ride the rocket"....if that's not innuendo.... I am starting to think it may not be 'the better way,' however. Gross.