A Commute Slog To Hell

On an unexpected trip to the airport this a.m. to pick up a wayward Acaphlegmic who has returned from a furtive trip that he remains mum about, I take in my unusual surroundings. Sitting in the Autoshare car, stuck on Lakeshore Boulevard just past Ontario Place with the entrance to the Gardiner Expressway seemingly miles in the distance, I wonder how we’ve arrived at this place. Aren’t we smarter than this?

We’re supposed to be going in the opposite direction from the morning rush hour yet here we are, traffic stopped in all directions, wasting our lives away. To my right, the bike lanes and footpaths of the lakefront remain sadly deserted. We’re all here in our cars, idle, as a brownish-green hue settles in on the horizon over the lake and this is only our second heat alert day of the season and it is the 26th of May, still 3 weeks short of the official start of summer!

We’ve chosen ours cars over fully functioning public transit. We ship our cargo by truck instead of rail. We tune into the radio to hear the likes of the Dean Blundell Show, a fucking 4th-rate Howard Stern impersonator who talks about men’s balls, wiener supporters and armpit sniffing without even being funny about any of it!! I mean, how inept is that?

No wonder we are so full of rage and contempt and bile. This, apparently, is how many of us begin our days. Stuck in a metal, plastic and glass container, bumper to bumper, stopping and starting, our heads filled with amateurish frat boy puerility. How have we let this happen to ourselves? Shouldn’t we be demanding a little more from our lives? We should be surprised that our society isn’t subject to more random murderous rampages.

This is not how civilized people exist. Somehow sometime back, we settled for something desperately short of perfection. This sucks.

submitted dyingly slowly by Urban Sophisticat

Enemies List

The topic’s probably been explored to death in our absence (even by our own Distant Cousin) but I just can’t let it go unremarked upon.

The deep-sixing of a trial run of bike lanes on University Avenue earlier this month.

A note to the 15 councillors who carried the amendment and spiked the project: I will overlook the fact that your opposition to the plan seems to be directly proportional to your actual physical distance from it. (Let’s call it the Etobicoke-Scarborough Alliance). Your argument probably goes that you and your constituents are the ones who are actually using those two lanes that would be lost to bikes to drive your car to work downtown.

But here’s what I don’t understand. If you were actually convinced that these bike lanes were such a bad idea, that congestion and chaos would rule with the loss of roadway to cars, why wouldn’t you vote for this? It was only on a trial basis for 3 months. Arguably the 3 months with the lightest amount of business traffic going back and forth, what with summer vacations and such. If you were indeed correct and the whole Avenue Road-University Ave. corridor ground to a screeching halt and the bike lanes remained virtually cyclist free, imagine the ammunition you would have had at your disposal. Not only to kill this proposal dead but any more misguided attempts to impose bike lanes on major arterial roads in the city. Remember the University Ave. Bike Lanes!

By successfully stopping this plan before it even started, well, let’s just say your motives are suspect. It could be argued now that you are nothing more than a pack of fat-assed, myopic inner suburban dwellers, fighting a rear-guard battle against any sort of change in order to maintain a dysfunctional status quo. Simple-minded car huggers representing the worst of cowering reactionary impulses.

Yet the disdain and disgust I feel toward you is miniscule compared to that which I harbour against the 14 councillors, 2 would-be mayors and 1 sitting mayor who felt their presence at the vote was unnecessary. Aren’t you elected to office to attend to city business? So what other pressing engagements do you have to attend to that supersede being in council chambers to vote?

I’m sure the Mayor of Torino would’ve understood, Mayor Miller, that you had to be late for your date because of a council vote. Councillor Ford couldn’t be there because he was taking calls from his constituents? Hmmm. Imagine how many votes councillors are going to miss once there’s only 22 of them. And Councillor Michael Walker whose St. Paul’s ward contains a stretch of Avenue Road, the north of Bloor Street extension of University Ave. that would see a lot of backed up traffic if the bike lanes further south caused all the pandemonium opponents claimed they would, aren’t you retiring this year? What did you have to lose by voting – either yes or no – on this issue? Were you afraid of hurting your executive assistant, Chris Sellors’ chances of succeeding you by offending either side of the debate?

Except that it’s this refusal to offer up the courage of your convictions that gives politicians a bad name with the public. I know, I know. This was only a vote on a trial run at installing bike lanes on a major downtown road. A minor issue to many, for sure. But in some ways, it is representative of competing future visions of the city. Lessening our reliance on cars versus a continued catering to their every uncivil whim and demand.

At least we know where those councillors who led the charge and voted against the University Avenue bike lanes stand on the issue. We can combat an established target. It’s the slippery, elusive, greasy ducking of controversy that irks and is ultimately unhelpful in charting a course for the city. Those are the kind of politicians we don’t need and who should be targeted for defeat this fall.

Remember the University Bike Lanes!

belatedly submitted by Urban Sophisticat

Back On The Ground

Waking from a heavily self-medicated post-flight slumber, the fog is thick. Part jet lag, part scrambled mass of neuronal misfirings, the very recent past elusively slips in and out of grasp. I’ve been asleep for how long? Four hours? Fourteen? How long ago did we board that plane? That exchange with the customs guy, it didn’t really happen, did it? It must’ve been a dream. “Where am I coming from this morning?! What do you mean, where am I coming from this morning? The ether, man! The ether at 35 000 feet!!” If that was indeed real, why would they have allowed us back into the country?

Perhaps ill-advisedly, I hop on my bike and pedal to the office in order to get a head start on the inevitable steaming pile of whatever that always awaits a return from a two week sabbatical. Fortunately for me, the streets are pretty well deserted, either due to it being a long weekend or because of the very early hour. Maybe a combination of the two. Whatever the reason, I am free to cycle in whatever manner I feel to be appropriate.

Eventually I locate the office. It wasn’t on the street I initially thought it was or the one I thought it was after that. But it wasn’t that far away. Pretty well the very street we had left it on.

My confusion is prolonged, however, as the condition of the office strikes me as completely unfamiliar. It is neat. It is tidy. Our 13 years of National Geographic magazines that nobody ever reads but refuses to recycle has been chronologically arranged and put into what seems to be an entirely new shelving unit. Maybe this isn’t our office after all. But then, why did my key work in the door?

A bouquet of flowers lying on a desk with a note addressed to us confirms that I am in the correct space. From Distant Cousin, thanking us for the unexpected opportunity to contribute to the site and hoping that he did no long term damage to the brand. Ahh, yes. The disappearance of Acaphlegmic and the emergence of some distant cousin to hold down the fort and keep the wheels of opinion from grinding to a halt in our absence. Hopefully we can make this a more long term, regular arrangement and talk him onto the payroll. And by payroll, I mean some sort of non-monetary, stock option kind of set up that will pay off for everyone in the end. Eventually.

I make myself a Spanish coffee from all the proper ingredients that I find in the shockingly clean kitchen and fully stocked fridge that was definitely not that way when we left it. Another Distant Cousin touch? Yeah, he is definitely a keeper. Then I sit down in front of the mountain of material that awaits my perusal as we start to bring ourselves up to speed on the goings on here in the Big Smoke over the past couple weeks.

Have we missed much? What’s that you say? Rob Ford’s now at the front of the pack in the mayoral race according to an unpublished poll? No, that can’t be right. It’s just the jet lag talking. Or the Spanish coffee just kicking in. Come on. You can’t be serious. Rob Ford? That Rob Ford?! In the lead?? There must be some kind of mistake. We haven’t been away that long. Surely we would’ve heard if hell had frozen over.

disbelievingly submitted by Urban Sophisticat