I stopped at the intersection of Queen St. W and Spadina Ave. on my way to work today since I was craving a coffee and a muffin, something that seldom happens. This particular place has a good combo offer that’s cheap and I like the idea of not getting bankrupt in five years simply because I was spending four dollars a day on branded coffee.
The air smelled fresh and crisp, a mix of sun, shade and a hint of rain, a gentle breeze and I swear I even heard birds chirping. Things got nicer as I heard a street busker playing some cool Celtic tunes on the violin. I was smiling and happy until a big truck farted on me, its thick black smoke snapping me out of the idyllic mood I was momentarily lost in. What an awful way to remind you that you were at one of the busiest intersections in the city, during rush hour, and that dirt and noise was all that was in store for you. To make it worse, there was a crazy man across the street swearing at his comrade and smashing a bottle against the sidewalk.
I got my coffee and asked for a cranberry muffin that smelled delicious. The girl taking the order looked visibly nervous and I caught her glancing repeatedly at the queue , that kept on lengthening, of caffeine deprived serious looking folks in front of the counter. Slightly annoyed, I responded with a firm “No, thank you” when she asked me “Would you like meelk?” for the third time. Poor girl, seemed on the verge of a breakdown, prompting me to resolve to never work a morning shift if I were ever to work at a coffee shop. “Sank you, hava nice dae” she said, coming up with a smile (in a Chinese accent, in case you didn’t catch that).
I ran across the street to my bus stop, holding a hot cup of coffee in one hand and a brown bag in the other. As I was boarding, I saw a lady and (her?) child, who was crying loudly, getting out. I get annoyed by children who have learnt the art of faking crying. It starts with the kids making weird faces that makes other people, except me ofcourse, go “aww” and the mother go “oh god not again”. This is usually accompanied by loud screaming, crying and throwing tantrums while not a single drop of tear escapes the eye (worse than crocodile tears). They’ll stop this drama as soon as the mother lifts them up or they get a chocolate or something like that. Talk about parents spoiling their kids by patronizing such obviously fake theatrics, or other acts employing emotional blackmail.
As my bus left the intersection, I couldn’t help but think how interesting these little segments in our day-to-day life could be. If your day was uneventful so far, perhaps spending few minutes reading this made it interesting.