This morning, an anonymous letter from a cyclist who took a nasty spill is making the rounds in Toronto media.
The letter is directed to a jogger, who, according to the cyclist, literally steeped over him/her to continue jogging, instead of asking if assistance was needed or if they were alright.
My first thought was “how terrible!”
I mean, how could someone – literally – walk OVER someone injured instead of seeing if they need a hand?
Apparently, many Torontonians – or, at least, National Post commentators – don’t agree with me, as many think the letter is “whiny”, accuses the cyclist of riding in a prohibited area or cutting the jogger off, and telling the “limping cyclist” to toughen up.
Okay, maybe the fall wasn’t major, maybe the jogger was “in the zone”, but really – is that any excuse for not asking if the biker was okay?
I mean, when I see someone fall, I help them up or ask if they need assistance.
Recently, I actually went OUTSIDE MY HOUSE when I heard someone yelling – a teen had taken a spill off his bike, was in pain, and his younger brother was yelling and crying. If I can leave my house to see if someone needs help, is it really too much to ask someone to stop for a minute?
Apparently so.
Here’s another story: I tripped in the mall a few years back, on the steps near an exit and busted up my knee really good. The edge of the stair went straight in between my kneecap and leg bone, there was a crunching noise, and it took me a good few seconds to get up after being stunned and shouting “OW!”
TONS of people were around.
Most kept walking, looked the other way, or ignored me all together. A group of teenagers – probably about 17 or 18, so not much older than I was at the time (21) LAUGHED at me instead of offering to help. I limped out in pain and tears – people looked, but there was still no offer for help.
My fall was so bad I went to get my knee x-rayed at the hospital, ended up on crutches for 3 weeks, had an MRI later, and was in physiotherapy for one and a half years. Thankfully, although my knee is still weaker than my other one, it’s mostly healed (except when it’s humid it acts up) and I was lucky enough not to break anything or do any serious cartilage damage.
This avoidance-of-helping isn’t a new phenomenon, either. Too many people “don’t want to get involved” in various situations. In 1964, Kitty Genovese was famously stabbed to death on the street in NYC. 38 people witnessed or heard the struggle, yet no one did anything. Everyone assumed someone else would do it.
Now, while I am not necessary saying you should get directly involved in something so violent – would it kill you to call the police? To throw something from your window down that way, to try and scare the perp?
Unlikely.
And, by that same token – would it kill you to ask someone who’s fallen off a bike, tripped in the mall, if they need help?
I doubt it.
So why don’t we do those things? Why do we look the other way, ignore the situation, or think “someone else will pull over, someone else will call 911″.
I honestly think it’s a big city syndrome. I once pulled over in Timmins, on the side of the country highway, to take a picture of a pretty double rainbow spanning the forest. Within minutes, a car stopped to ask if I needed help. Five minutes later, a second stopped.
I tripped downtown once in Timmins too – didn’t even fall, simply lost my balance, but caught myself in time. A man standing near by smoking asked if I was okay, and when I said I was, said “You have to be careful on these bricks, they can be loose!”
Yet, in places like Toronto, in New York – it seems people can’t be bothered to stop and help.
Next time you see someone fall, drop something, or do something that otherwise catches your attention – I challenge you to actually stop and do something about it.
If we all paid a little more attention – and were a little nicer to each other – I think Toronto would be a much more pleasant place to live… as opposed to so cold.
And I don’t mean “cold” in a winter snow kind of way.
This blog post is long overdue – considering the CNE (aka the Ex!) ended weeks ago – but hey, I’m doing pretty good considering I still haven’t blogged about my, er, Feburary/March trip to Europe. Oops.
I haven’t been to the Ex now in a few years – actually I think the last time I went was when I was still a student… so at least 2 years ago, if not longer.
I’m going to be completely honest: there was one main reason why I begged The Boy to go with me – despite the fact he, uh, was spending 5 nights a week working the overnight shift as a poker dealer at the Ex Casino – and that was DEEP. FRIED. EVERYTHING.
The CNE is pretty well known for a number of things:
- The (sketchy) midway rides (of which I always ride the giant Ferris Wheel)
- extraordinarily expensive parking costs ($20 – unless your boyfriend has an employee parking pass, ha!)
- The casino, of course – I’ve heard Rama & Port Perry are EMPTY during the 6 weeks this one is operative
- The Labour Day weekend Air Show (which I was supposed to go to, but skipped due to impending rain that never actually arrived)
- The crazy sculptures – made from rocks, sand, butter… yeah, butter!
- And (in my family, at least) the fact I always come home with a collection of overpriced, unneeded, midway game stuffed animals.
But beyond all that, the Ex is ALSO known for their overly oleaginous, caloricly careless – but disgustingly delicious – deep friend food. Mac and Cheese! Pickles! Mars Bars! Oreos! Ice Cream! Pop Tarts! Cola! You name it, they probably deep fry it.
Doughnut burgers being made - gained 5lbs just by looking. ;)
The CNE made headlines earlier this year when they announced they’d be carrying the famed Krispy Kreme doughnut burger. I didn’t try it – the line was horrendously long, and hey, I didn’t want to subject myself to 1,500 calories in one burger (and that’s without the bacon!). I would have split with the boy – but he didn’t want to end up eating most of it if I didn’t like it or “got full”. I don’t blame him. That happens a lot to us.
I did, however, try a few other deep-friend goodies (which probably added up to more than 1,500 calories, ha – but we shared ;)
The Deep Fried Pickle
Delicious. I don’t have another word to describe this. It was super juicy on the inside, crispy on the outside, and had a super tasty flavor. It also came on a stick, which won me over immediately. I ask you – who doesn’t love food on a stick?
The Deep Fried Mac n’ Cheese
Sold out. As in, I had to settly for deep fried mac n’ cheese curds, which I was assured was “the same only cheesier” – “hell yes, I’m in!” I said. I regretted that about 15 seconds later when I actually tried them. The dish was dry, lacked flavour, and honestly I couldn’t find cheese. Seriously. It was like deep fried mac. Really disappointing. I heard from a friend that the mac n’ cheese was much better – kicking myself for settling for the curds. I must admit they were substantially better once we made the discovery that leftover ranch dip from pickle + deep friend mac n’ curds = om nom.
The Deep Fried Pop Tart
OMG DELICIOUS! I do have to admit, I was deeply disappointed they didn’t have a chocolate pop-tart, and asked for a deep-fried s’more instead – but they were sold out. So I decided to “settle” for a raspberry pop-tart (I really wanted the sprinkley strawberry one, but The Boy doesn’t like strawberry all that much). Much to my delight, it ALSO came on a stick (again, food tastes better on a stick! ;) and drowned in icing sugar and chocolate sauce. Cardiac arrest? Possibly, but at least you’ll die with happy taste buds. I loved it so much. I am immensely glad I don’t have a deep-frier at home or I’d be eating these for breakfast every day (and weigh like 700 lbs). And probably deep frying everything else in my kitchen too – deep frying is kind of fun to do.
'Deep-fried Cola 3' by alanosaur on Flickr
The Deep Fried Coke
Didn’t eat it. Why? We searched, and searched, and FINALLY found it and were going to give it a whirl (even with the line) but… it looked disgusting. Like worms. Deep fried worms.
And we were stuffed. From eating everything else.
It was worth it, though – especially that Pop Tart.
Maybe next year.
So, I’m doing something new – it’s called 30 Days of Lists. If you know me, you know that I keep lists of EVERYTHING:
- to do lists
- idea lists
- budget lists
- songs to download lists
- grocery lists
- stores I want to visit lists
- people I need to email back lists
- wish lists
- this list! haha
So when I head about this challenge, I was down like James Brown. It’s pretty simple: each morning, a new topic is released and you write your list, photograph it, and post it to Flickr/your blog/the 30 days of list forum/etc.
Many of my… co challengees? fellow list makers? are blogging daily about their lists, but lets face it – I barely blog once a week as is (I’m busy and boring recently, though I am working on changing that I swear!) so I decided to try to do a weekly roundup. If you’re interested in following along daily, I am posting photos of my lists (artistic ones, haha) to Flickr, courtesy of my iPhone4 daily. You can check out everyone else’s lists in the public Flickr group.
This week’s roundup is short, since it’s the beginning of September and as far as “actual September” days go… there were only 4.
I really, really wanted a chocolate bar Thursday afternoon at work. I was tired and hungry and having some serious chocolate, candy, ooey, gooey, goodness cravings. I even was in front of the vending machine, money in hand – but I resisted, ate a banana instead, and headed home from work.
Except, I get irritated while driving pretty easily – especially during rush hour, especially when people are driving aggressively. Seriously, there’s a %*^# ton of traffic, cutting me off or riding my ass is not getting you to your destination any faster. So I’m driving home and encounter a jerk off, aggressive cab driver that WILL NOT let me merge in front of him – when there’s plenty of space to do so – at a red light (looking at you, Co-Op cabbie #2322). I even try to get his attention, and he looks RIGHT AT ME before giving me a literal s#^! eating grin and pulls up slowly the entire time. He then GETS THROUGH THE LIGHT, CUTS ME OFF, and slams on his brakes almost making me hit him. Yeah, way to go buddy. This is after he caused me to miss my turn by not letting me get in front of him; than I get lost, and take an extra 30 minutes to find the 401 and I’m hungry, tired, and cranky – so I impulsively pulled into a Tim’s, grab a doughnut, and scarf it down… then immediately feel bad about it.
I’m on my way to my Booty Camp Fitness class, so I rationalize I’ll work “extra hard” at boot camp.
Sitting on the 401 in Toronto traffic by pqholland
So there I am, in my ’97 Chevy Lumina putting along (yes, putting – you don’t do much else during rush hour except stop and go, never “going” much faster than 40km/hr!), and chatting to a friend (relax, via a bluetooth speaker phone!) when traffic speeds up a touch so I go to accelerate.
Only, Chevy Lumina decides she doesn’t feel like it. In fact, as it turns out – she doesn’t feel like doing much, including moving.
Yeah.
Let’s recap: Rush hour. Traffic is speeding up. I’m in the express (not collector’s!) heading home, and my car. stops. moving.
So, I swear, exclaim something to the effect of “I have to call you back my car just died!” and hang up on my friend (who probably freaked out in hindsight) and swore some more.
Now, my old car – a 1990 Mercury Topaz – used to stall. A lot. Including while I was in the middle of making left turns (that was her FAVOURITE time to stall, actually, but that’s another story).
So needless to say, I know what a stalling car feels like, and how to git’er running again. This, however, was not like any stalling car I’d ever experienced.
I try starting her.
Nothing.
Try again.
Nothing.
Start to hyperventilate as cars are honking at me and ducking out from behind me to get around, whizzing by at near 100km/hr now, and some are even SLAMMING ON THEIR BRAKES behind me when they realize I’m not moving. I put my 4-ways on. Oddly, only one of the arrows – the driver’s side – is flashing on the dash. Mental note.
Realize my car is still in drive. Put in park. Try to start.
Nothing.
This goes on for a good five, six, seven minutes – she’s not even turning over, I’m clicking the keys and there is literally NOTHING. No ding, no click, no egine noise. Just nothingness and the wind of cars whipping by me.
I get hysterical.
I mean, I’m stuck ON THE FREAKING HIGHWAY. During rush hour! Alone! It was pretty terrifying. So I start borderline having a panic attack, crying and trying to figure out ETF to do - call the cops? A tow truck? Get out of the car? Stay in? Close my eyes and hope it’s a bad dream? When suddenly, I start LAUGHING. Because the thought that the car is exacting revenge on me – teaching me a lesson – for eating that damn doughnut by making me miss boot camp crosses my mind, and I find that HILARIOUS.
So now I’m crying/laughing, and try turning the car over one more time.
IT STARTS!
I can hardly believe it, but decide not to take my chances with it dying again while I rejoice and move that sucker like I’ve never moved before to the shoulder. Park, four ways, turn off, call parents crying. Mom thinks I was in an accident at first because I’m so upset when I say “Hi”, and is relieved to find out I’m okay, on the shoulder, no accident, etc.
Anyway, while my mom is figuring out where I am and my dad is working on calling a tow truck (gotta love parents), one arrives – apparently a good Samaritan had called in my dead car to the OPP and it had gone out on the radar since I was in a high volume, high traffic time and considered a priority to GTFO the highway.
The (very nice!) tow truck driver can tells I’m freaking, and jokes with me to lighten me up, reassures me I’m safe now and he’ll wait for me to talk to my dad about what we’re doing and if I need a tow, and even jokes with me about how I’ve chewed my nails down to stubs from nervousness (good eye, Mr. Driver!).
So he gives me a good deal, and we get my poor baby all hooked up to the truck to be towed from basically Scarborough to Whitby. While the guys were dealing with that, I tweeted/facebooked my frustration.
One of my girlfriends works for a company that provides all the traffic news for stations traveling across the GTA/Toronto (etc):
Friend: WHERE ARE YOU ?! I AM TOTALLY WATCHING A COUPLE OF PPL THAT COULD BE YOU RIGHT NOW!
Me: I’m moving now but I was in the middle of the eastbound express between Markham & Whites Road-ish for about 5 -10 minutes until I got it started and moved to the shoulder
Friend: HAHAHAH oh man, yup, we were just watching you! hahah
Yeah, I’ve got friends in high places – literally. Pretty funny she was watching (and presumably broadcasting) my plight.
So I get the car towed to my dealership/shop, yadda yadda, the rest of the story is pretty routine and un-interesting (although the driver was from Porcupine, just south of Timmins where I lived so we had a good chat about that!); but alas, my poor Chevy Lumina is dead. Toast, done, junk, scrap metal, not being revived. The head gasket went, and it would cost way more to fix than the car is worth.
She served me well though (and we knew she was on her way out - weren’t sure she’d make it through the winter with a long commute, but I wasn’t QUITE ready for it to happen, financially and otherwise, since I was planning to save for a newer car over the next few months) and I would have, y’know, preferred if she had died like… in my driveway? Or even on a normal road (not highway)? But she got me through 2 years of post-grad school, a year living in Timmins (with FREQUENT drives from Toronto to Timmins and back), an entire, harsh, Northern Ontario winter, and a whole year at home freelancing, traveling to and from Toronto, to the Boy’s (45 minutes away from me), etc.
We had a good run, but still, I’m bummed.
I will miss my Chevy Lumina, and her sweet sunroof, faux-leather interior, taped-up passenger side headlight (haha, yup – see above photo ;), ripped center console arm rest (the rip was actually the perfect elbow dip) and ample storage space. Seriously, she was like a storage locker to me at times.
And, y’know, I’ll miss having a car in the meantime too.
- RIP Chevy Lumina :(
“Remembering Jack Layton at Nathan Phillips Square” by Jackman Chiu (lewolf011) on Flickr
“My friends, love is better than anger. Hope is better than fear. Optimism is better than despair. So let us be loving, hopeful and optimistic. And we’ll change the world” –Jack Layton, August 20, 2011
I’ll be the first to admit I’ve never really been a fan of the NDP, nor of Jack Layton’s politics – in fact, he infuriated me on many occasions, causing debating, yelling, anger, eye rolls, and venomous comments; including a declaration of hatred at one point a few elections ago.
But before I get criticized by writing that so soon after his death, let me explain: that, in my opinion, is a sign of an excellent leader. Someone who can cause anger and spark debates; someone who can get me (and others) riled up in a discussion about our countries politics, someone who can get us to care even if we’re not necessarily caring about the issues while on the same page.
Moreover, he managed to get a number of younger voters – my generation, and even younger – riled up and excited about politics, and in an aging society where it very often seems my peers don’t care; that says something about his charisma, charm, and dedication to the job, to Canada, and to us as Canadians.
And although I disliked his politics, at times, I couldn’t dislike the man behind them. I have so, so much respect for someone who can be in the limelight, as Layton was, and face criticism and defeat with such dignity, grace, fearlessness, and dedication to his beliefs. Jack Layton was not a man who would waiver when the public voted against, spoke against, or even ridiculed, at times, what he stood for – and even though I might not necessarily agree with WHAT he stood for, I can certainly respect the fact he remained grounded in his beliefs.
“Thank you, Jack” by Lemur277 on Flickr
Jack Layton was – and even in death, remains – a phenomenal leader, someone who was capable of bringing people together (whether in debate, in alliance, or simply in a common love for Canadian politics); and this holds true regardless of where you stand on partisan lines.
I think the outpouring of sympathy, grief, condolences, and shock at his passing – from all parties, people, and countries, even – speaks for itself.
And regardless of my personal political beliefs, I will say this: Canada is much poorer today, having lost such a strong, dedicated political leader.
