Sidelines of the city
It's funny when people talk about seasonal defective disorder, like it's something unusual or rare, that most of us never get. In a winter-bound country like this, I think everyone experiences it in some way. In the coldest weeks of the year, it's easy to get into a sleep-walk routine of going between home and work and school, rushing through the streets and the subways, not stopping for anything unnecessary and not enjoying any of it either. On weekends, we hermit ourselves away, too. Drinking coffee and reading, huddled under blankets watching TV (in my case, Twitch City -- also set in a clausterphobic, never-ending winter version of my neighbourhood) or gazing at the falling snow out the window, glad we're safe and warm. Slowly and almost imperceptibly, our moods drift downward. We focus only on staying warm. In the morning rush hour, 100 people are crammed into a streetcar, but not one of them is talking.
I refuse to be held prisoner by this winter. Once a week, I try to get out of the house. In late January, I took Sadi out to a fancy dinner at an expensive and crowded French place on Bay Street. We played a being wealthy, dressed in an elegant black dress and a suit with Windsor-knotted tie, carefully choosing a wine and ordering some complicated Nouveau Cuisine food. Another night, in February, we played drinking games at Shannon's house. The most debauched drinking always seems to happen in winter when there's nothing else to do. The place was crowded, a lot of younger J-School students. Laura danced, I caught up with old friends and Maurice tried to start a fight with a member of the students' union executive. Another night, Spencer dropped by the house on his way to Ronnie's. I went with him and ran into Elissa and Emily. We stayed past last call, like we used to a year ago, then came back to the Basement for a nightcap. When they left, the house suddenly felt deadly quiet and I realized how low-key my current roommates really are. A couple of times, I visited Hamilton. Once, my mother and I went down to the Hamilton Beach. It's a neighbourhood on the small strip of land that they built the Skyway on. A forgotten little piece of the city, cut off from the rest of the metropolis, facing the grey-blue of the open lake, with the heavily industry and a section of Canada's busiest highway to its back. For her birthday, dinner at an Italian place in Hamilton's garment district -- perhaps the only neighbourhood of its kind still left in this country, a throwback to another era. I've also spent more time with Sadi's family, going to the ROM and the AGO with her uncles, having a five course dinner (and five accompanying drinks) at Byzantium and introducing them to Vietnamese food at that place on Spadina that stole the laughing cow logo.
The other night, one of the first warm days of the year, I went out with some Eye people for dinner on the Esplanade. I got there early and sat in the bar with Carla and Jesse, saw a bunch of the new masthead and saw Shmuel for the first time in months. When we got out, the sun was setting and we started trekking, in two groups, up to Yonge and Dundas. I got there first with Amit and browsed for clothes in the Eaton Centre, while Laura and a few others tried taking the PATH system and got lost. At the end of the night, walking across the darkened campus on our way back to the office for a nightcap, it finally felt like winter was over.
I refuse to be held prisoner by this winter. Once a week, I try to get out of the house. In late January, I took Sadi out to a fancy dinner at an expensive and crowded French place on Bay Street. We played a being wealthy, dressed in an elegant black dress and a suit with Windsor-knotted tie, carefully choosing a wine and ordering some complicated Nouveau Cuisine food. Another night, in February, we played drinking games at Shannon's house. The most debauched drinking always seems to happen in winter when there's nothing else to do. The place was crowded, a lot of younger J-School students. Laura danced, I caught up with old friends and Maurice tried to start a fight with a member of the students' union executive. Another night, Spencer dropped by the house on his way to Ronnie's. I went with him and ran into Elissa and Emily. We stayed past last call, like we used to a year ago, then came back to the Basement for a nightcap. When they left, the house suddenly felt deadly quiet and I realized how low-key my current roommates really are. A couple of times, I visited Hamilton. Once, my mother and I went down to the Hamilton Beach. It's a neighbourhood on the small strip of land that they built the Skyway on. A forgotten little piece of the city, cut off from the rest of the metropolis, facing the grey-blue of the open lake, with the heavily industry and a section of Canada's busiest highway to its back. For her birthday, dinner at an Italian place in Hamilton's garment district -- perhaps the only neighbourhood of its kind still left in this country, a throwback to another era. I've also spent more time with Sadi's family, going to the ROM and the AGO with her uncles, having a five course dinner (and five accompanying drinks) at Byzantium and introducing them to Vietnamese food at that place on Spadina that stole the laughing cow logo.
The other night, one of the first warm days of the year, I went out with some Eye people for dinner on the Esplanade. I got there early and sat in the bar with Carla and Jesse, saw a bunch of the new masthead and saw Shmuel for the first time in months. When we got out, the sun was setting and we started trekking, in two groups, up to Yonge and Dundas. I got there first with Amit and browsed for clothes in the Eaton Centre, while Laura and a few others tried taking the PATH system and got lost. At the end of the night, walking across the darkened campus on our way back to the office for a nightcap, it finally felt like winter was over.