While I was waiting in line Friday afternoon to catch the bus to Ottawa, there was a guy about my age who kept staring at me. I appreciated the llamas on his toque, and the skates around his neck, but I wasn't too compelled to reciprocate the fascination.
However, when I scored the very last seat on the bus, I noted that he was sitting only a few rows in front of me. Interested, I decided to start studying him, since I had five hours to waste.
He pulled out a book to read, but I wasn't quite sure what it was. (I'm always interested to see what other people are reading. My own bag for the bus contained the latest National Geographic magazine, Vegetarian Times and a thick volume about the Palenstinean conflict. Yes, I'm a dork.) He was intently reading the book for about 45 minutes.
A political book, maybe? My interest grew. No, it wasn't a political book, I decided, seeing the pictures. It might be a graphic novel?
Nope, wrong again.
It was an Archie comic. Pals and Gals Double Digest, to be exact. I proceeded to giggle in wonderment to myself for the rest of the bus ride.
I nearly approached him when the bus stopped at the halfway point for a break to ask him about the comic, but I lost my nerve. When he re-boarded the bus, he had a newspaper in his hands. "Oh, that makes sense," I thought to myself, "the comic was probably just something he grabbed in a rush on the way out of the door because he had nothing else to read." Opening the newspaper, he removed a section, and began reading it intently. What was it? I leaned in closer.
It was a flyer.
He proceeded to read the flyer from cover to cover, and neglected to read any other section of the newspaper.
I proceeded to creep out the girl next to me by laughing all the way to Ottawa.
When I woke up at Monique's place on Saturday morning, she had candes burning and breakfast laid out on the table. "I figured you'd be happier sleeping," she said, "and I'm happier cooking. So I got up this morning and baked you muffins!"
The day got even better when Monique took me to Parliament Hill, which is, as I told her, my equivalent to her Hockey Hall of Fame.
Except she didn't play the role of the reluctant girlfriend. She was happy to go see her new city too.
I was actually this excited to be at the House of Commons. I actually was skipping with excitement.
The House of Commons.
The comments I left in the comment box.
I've never really understood the unicorn statue.
The lion, on the other hand, I fully grasp the understanding of.
After we were finished checking out all the political stuff, we headed down to Jacques-Cartier Park for Winterlude festivities.
It was really cold outside.
We felt incrediably Canadian, standing out in the frigid air, eating poutine, drinking hot chocolate, being surrounded by snow sculptures.
However, after five minutes of feeling Canadian, I realized that was about all I could feel. My toes were numb, and Monique's fingers were frozen.
Lucky for us, wine is good for warming up with.
Monique's new roomate Celia. (Random fact: Celia is friends with Sasha. She offered to let Monique live with her when she was looking for a place to live. So basically, my friend's roomates is my roomate's friend.)
Kelly and Monique.
We headed to a local pub to play pool.
After sinking three balls in a row on my first turn, I couldn't hit anything. Kelly and I lost.
We ended up at some club downtown.
I would provide commentary, but I really can't remember this portion of the evening.
Anyways, there are two journalism schools in Canada. One is in Toronto, and one is in Ottawa. I randomly, for no specific or discerning reason, chose Toronto. (I had never been to either city before. In fact, this weekend was my first time in Ottawa). I've always wondered if I made the right choice.
Ottawa is a beautiful city, surpassing Toronto on that scale about 10 times. It also has a really different feel to it, almost small-town like. Ottawa is like Calgary, while Toronto is like Edmonton.
In conclusion, it's a good thing I like my cities to have a dirty under belly.