thediastema's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Toronto part I (live-ish) I've 25 minutes before my next class to provide a brief update from Toronto. Let's see how far it goes. ~~ Now I have 24 minutes. ~~ I arrived at Salt Lake International a good three hours prior to departure time, budgeting in an allowance of about forty minutes to spend being pulled aside to be felt up by other women. I was pleasant and compliant, but other than my underwire upsetting the metal detectors I couldn't think of exactly what flagged me as a security risk. Not that I don't think it's good they're pulling aside scrawny white girls making trips to Ontario, because there are just as many mass murderers in our gene pool as anyone else's, but it would have been fun to see a list of red flags. (Potatohead says being young and travelling alone have a lot to do with it, for instance.) I made my flight to Chicago with time to spare. Seeing a bag of Fuzzy Peach in the SLC gift shop (after believing for years they were not sold in the states) I detected a favourable omen. A birdstrike delayed takeoff, making the Chicago flight twenty minutes late. It would have been fine if I'd not been handed a connection with a fifteen minute layover! I sailed down the concourse at O'Hare like a bullet with a little suitcase and at the gate was asked simply, "Toronto?" I squealed with glee. "TORONTO!" I boarded the aircraft, breathless and full of adrenaline. I made polite conversation with my seatmate while declaration cards were passed around. ~~ I arrived at YYZ on time. Touchdown was an odd sensation of having slipped into a custom-design velour body stocking. My customs agent had vitiligo (the "Michael Jackson disease") and cracked friendly jokes before waving me through. I converted my currency, refamiliarised myself with Canadian tender (it took ten seconds; it had been a little while), bought a phone card, and spent half an hour refreshing in the nearest washroom. I now had four hours to phone Mum and check in, then get myself from Terminal 2 to Terminal 3, where I was to meet my party just after midnight. I hopped on random shuttle buses. The one playing the theme from "Shaft" on the radio turned out to be the right ticket. I must have peed in every washroom in every terminal at Pearson. I have set a province record, I assure you. ~~ Loitering about the meet-and-greet area was more comfortable than loitering anywhere in Salt Lake City. I did not receive stares from pierced people or missionaries demanding to know what made me think I had a right to be here. For hours that godawful "I'm Home" number from the Kopit/Yeston Phantom song was stuck in my head. Just sayin'. ~~ That's all I can do for now. Sidenote: don't post to guestbooks if you don't have any contact info. It's cheap. ~ETK 12:04 - 10 July, 2002 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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