Originally, I decided to go to TCAF alone. It thought it might be nice to get away for a while away from Baby, Wife, House, and Dog (not that I don’t love all of them; it’s just nice to not listen to them bitch for a weekend).
As I was talking to a friend about this, he said, “I’ve never been to Toronto. Anything to do there?” I told him it’s Canada’s biggest city, so probably. He said he’d go (this is the friend who I normally go to Florida with, so there’s already some stipulations I’ll have to adhere to). After picking up the rental car – a VW Beetle – I picked him up and we were on our way.
Before I move on, there’s something you should probably understand about this particular friend: he tends to ask the same questions over and over until he gets the answer he wants to hear. I invited him to a New Year’s Eve party when I was in college; his only question was, “Where’s the pizza?” As he drank more and more, he asked the question more and more; the only thing I could tell him was, “My roommate at the last pizza yesterday.” Around midnight – around the 20th time the question was asked and answered – I yelled in his face, “I’ll go get some goddam pizza if you just shut the hell up!” Like a child, he had no idea why I yelled at him, and like a child, he acted hurt; however, also like a child, he was excited to be getting what he wanted. This trip was no different.
About three hours in, he repeatedly asked how much time we had left. Knowing how he functions, I had to come up with an answer that would satisfy him long enough so that the actual answer would someday come true. Every time he asked, I said, “About 20 minutes.” After about five hours of driving, I was not lying anymore and his questions stopped.
Something else you have to know about my friend: he refuses to see things in a light other than his own. He loves fast food but hates Chik-Fil-A because there isn’t one in Flint; he refuses to take a shower in a stand-alone unit because he thinks it’s a waste of space (“why not just put a showerhead in the bathtub?”). This trip was no different.
When we got the Marriott Downtown, parking was $25. He refused to settle for that (even though I was paying) so we drove around – after driving all damn day – to find a better deal. We eventually found a parking spot 45 minutes later for the lowlow price of $20 per day. In his defense, the parking spot was in the gay district, so I knew no one would break into a VW Beetle.
After eating a snack (a bag of trail mix), and then dinner (pizza at an Italian place), and then another snack (Wendy’s, on our way back from the Italian place), my friend wanted to know what we could do for fun. My response, as always, is, “Whatever you want.”
“Wanna go to a strip club?”
“Wanna go to that underground city thing?”
“Wanna get a pizza?”
I’m pretty full, but I’ll tag along.
“You just want to go back to the hotel and go swimming?”
“Ohhh. They got a hot tub.”
Alright. I’m very agreeable when it comes to activities (see this article if you don’t believe me).
He decided that we should go back to the room and decide our evening’s activities. We were both asleep by 11:30.
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