The T-dot

The tone I use when I refer to "the T-dot" is similar to the tone I use when I refer to my little brother, "G-blob", or "Poobutton", as he is otherwise known. It is a tone that has the slight ring of an eye-roll to it - both brother and city have a habit of doing things I don't entirely approve of - but it is ultimately affectionate.

I never got to know Toronto quite as well as I know Buffalo, but I carved a very well-loved path through it while I was there. When the high-rise apartments, those company name rock gardens, and, ultimately, the CN tower and Skydome hove into view, it feels like I'm visiting an old friend.

During the Toronto segment of my Christmas trip, visiting old friends is exactly what I did. The day I got in, I met up with two of my best friends from Vic. We behaved like the mature and civilized professionals that we are.

December 2013

For comparison, November 2005

I also met up with my old buddy, Robarts, where the three fine citizens featured in the photos above once spent many a fine (and late) hour cramming. I stopped at the Rare Books library, cause why not, and the man at the desk thought I was an undergrad and wanted to know what I was studying. I told him I was a postdoc, and he was embarrassed. Later I went by Vic to check out the new student building. I stopped in at Burwash, where one can eat Belgian waffles topped with ice cream and bacon, roast beef and gravy, or nachos with all the fixings, and somehow walk away with exactly the same aftertaste regardless. It smelled like Burwash.

I stayed with my Uncle John while I was in the city. He arranged for most of the Ontario relatives to stop by, including my aunt and a cousin from Kingston. As though he wasn't my favourite uncle already. Also, he has the apartment that I will have when I grow up and have enough books to fill an entire wall.

Because I believe in capitalising on every blessed minute of the day, regardless of how cold it is or how jetlagged you are, I squeezed in a Timmy's hot chocolate and perusal of Remenyi (conveniently situated a block apart), and a visit to the Bata Shoe Museum with Gabby (red coat in the Dec '13 photo above), followed by streetmeat and poutine from the trucks on St. George. When the time came for me to repack my bags (several times over to make everything fit) and run off to the Billy Bishop airport, so that I could sit on the floor all afternoon eating free cashews and hoping that the repeated delays were not going to turn into a flight cancellation, it was with the knowledge that I couldn't have fit anything more into those two days in the good ol' T-dot.