Pearson and/or Toronto and/or Life Hates Me

The day started at 5. I was leaving Toronto on a 7.30 flight the day after a show (and what a show!). I had left town on Friday to perform for assessors and all sorts of important people and after two shows it was time to come home. Of course, I was on the earliest flight possible–it was the cheapest. I left half an hour before I had to be at the airport thinking this would be adequate given that I was only on a domestic flight. How wrong was I?

After being bounced between different lines I finally landed in a line 5 minutes after my flight had begun boarding. After pleading my case, and several glares later, I got to an attendant who gave me a look of such utter distaste I felt the need to tell her how ridiculous Air Canada is…I was given a pinch by my mom who reminded me that this woman was the one that would decide whether I got this flight or had to hitch hike down the runway.

I was still okay…cursing Air Canada but fine, until I got to security. There was no way I’d get past it in 20 minutes. So I pleaded my case (again) this time it fell on unsympathetic ears (whose mouth told me that he couldn’t make exceptions for everyone). So just as I was about to turn around and give up on leaving Toronto when a lady in the next line offered me her spot in line. I made a noise that I can only describe as “mgah?” and then I did something horrible. As I said thank you my voice cracked…I knew it was over. And that’s when it started. I started crying…in front of the security people and the randoms in line and my confused (and highly entertained) mom. The woman in front of me asked me when my flight was, tears and all, I told her it was taking off in 20 minutes. She let me take her spot in line. This happened one more time until I was right at the front of the line. I’d just like to say at this point for anyone who ever sees someone crying in an airport, for Pete’s sake, don’t ask me what’s wrong, don’t tell me I look like I’ve been crying (duh) and DON’T give me that knowing smile!

Of course, security always believes I’m a terrorist, so after I retrieved my backpack and stuffed my feet into my shoes I started running to my gate. With the final boarding call being made overhead I made it just in time to see…the first attendant I saw when I came into the airport smiling at me. He took my passport (as I tried to wipe the tears off my face and regain my breath after my record breaking sprint) and said “You can calm down Miss. (insert last name), you’re here now”. It took all the control in the world not to knock him out.

I wish I could tell you that this was the end of my extreme mortification but I didn’t regain my composure until a heavily accented flight attendant tried to explain to me how to use the emergency exit. After she finished her shpiel she added “Oh, and before you open it just make sure there’s no natural disaster or emergency outside” which for some reason made me crack up. I laughed even harder when the Brazilian guy sitting next to me turned to me and asked me in broken English if I understood what she said, because he had no idea.

A story as epic as this deserved some passive voice (i know grammar nazi…shame on me)…especially considering I’m actually posting it.

Pet Peeves–It’s Starting Already

I hate people who say they can’t do math. “Yeah…I’m not good at the math-y stuff” “Eww math” and the like. Math is necessary. Everything is math. Here’s how I see it. Politics is really economics, economics is really psychology, psychology’s really biology, which is really chemistry, which is really physics, which is really math. (Really doesn’t sound like a word to me anymore). If you passed grade 8 you should know how to do basic algebra.

That is all.

Novelty

When am I going to stop  (incredulously) telling people I feel old?

Sunshine, Lollipops and Rainbows

Nobody makes movies about mid-level bureaucrats although I believe they really should. If I made one I would call it Standstill. It would be about a hardworking street thug turned bureaucrat who fought his way to the top after suffering years of neglect at the hands of an overstressed and unfeeling social system and how he fights back at the system. He’s the man who fought the law….but did the law fight back?

This morning for about 4 seconds, I felt like I was in a movie…one in which bureaucrats weren’t the bad guys, or the idiots that aren’t smart enough to go to law school or social enough to go into politics. I felt important, like I could actually go out and do something (maybe I still do, I’m still basking in the after glow). And this is all because of one man, who at this point could tell me I’m going to be the president of the United States and I would eat it right up. To preserve whatever dignity I might have I won’t tell you about the cheesier aspects of what he said, but I will share with you the best of his 2 hour lecture:

“Some of you are probably asking, where’s the cookbook? Where’s the manual? Well, this isn’t engineering. Not political engineering, not social engineering. This is the art and craft, the art and craft of public administration.”

Yes unicorns poop rainbows and the stork drops babies down people’s chimneys.

Or do they?

ABC Easy as 123

Today was my first day. Orientation. All the usual junk about going to the appropriate people when you need help and awkward introductions to people you’re going to know for the next 2 years. Except these introductions weren’t all that awkward. Even Torontonians are nicer out west…it’s quite incredible really. Throw in some sunshine and a couple of bunnies and you’ve got general happiness.

It Stinks! It Stinks! It Stinks!

I’ve spent most of this morning like a bloodhound…nose to the floor and I’m not speaking figuratively. As much as I love Wal Mart, (if I could be Mrs. Wal Mart at this point I would be…it was love at first 97 cent plate), everything I buy from there smells funny. My AWESOME shopping cart smells like the inside of an ethnic grocery store (any ethnic grocery store…they all smell funny) and the table top ironing board that I got smells like the banana I found at the bottom of my locker at the end of my first semester of grade 9. In an effort to make everything not smell like crap (against my better judgment) I febreezed all the offending objects in my apartment, at which point I came to two realizations.

1. The smell’s still there…and now I don’t know what smells because everything kinda smells like febreeze,
2. Perhaps more troublingly, I’m 87% sure I’m allergic to febreeze as I’ve sneezed 17 times in the last 20 minutes.

So I’ve been sniffing my apartment to find out where the smell’s coming from…no success to speak of yet.

PS: I don’t think I quote the Simpsons enough anymore…hence the title.

The Wild Wild West

The last 30 hours have been a little strange. For starters, I’m far less alone and afraid than I thought I would be. I think I underestimated myself. And secondly, I’ve acquired some sagely knowledge that I will impart with, even though most people with half a brain would know this.

1. Never buy more than you can carry in your arms.– This seems obvious, but for someone who has always done her grocery shopping in a car, this was not the no brainer you think it is. This left me juggling a 33 pound backpack, two plastic grocery bags and a gigantic package of toilet paper while making the 10 minute walk back to my apartment.

2. Never pay any attention to what you look like.–I realize I looked like a hobo bag lady today coming out form Walmart, with bags attached to my backpack and pulling a granny grocery cart, but it got the job done damnit! (This was about 18 hours after the grocery store incident, I had a VERY sharp learning curve.)

3. In preparation for moving, always do a serious upper body workout.–Holding my cellphone up is a serious challenge right now…no I’m not kidding.

Aside from this, the biggest shock I’ve gotten from being on my own for the very first time is this: everything costs money. Garbage bags, hangers…toilet paper. Who knew a pack of 12 toilet paper rolls would be 6 bucks?!  Bye bye disposable income…hello life…I never knew you were this expensive.

The Friendship Band of 2009

A digital friendship band. We’re miles apart but we’re on each others’ fives.

Le sigh.