So, we arrived in Toronto on the evening of July 1st, which we were surprised to find out was “Canada Day.” What the hell is Canada Day, you may be wondering? Well, you know what? I’m not totally sure. One of the big things I realized about Canada while I was up there was that I didn’t know shit about Canada. Canadians, I’m sure, will find that very funny, considering how extremely well-informed they are about every little thing going on in our country. One thing they should keep in mind though: we have to go to other countries’ news sources to find out what’s going on here in the USA. That is a big enough challenge without having to go off and read all about Canada.

From what I can piece together, I think Canada Day celebrates when they became their own country. But, just how much their own country they are, I’m not totally sure. Since they seem to have British queens or something on some of their coins. Plus, certain highways have little crown logos on them. Maybe some Canadian readers can clue me in to this whole situation.

Another thing I did learn about Canadian history (on tv there, of course), was that the Canadian flag is relatively new. I think it was adopted in like 1965 or something. Which is almost a hundred years after it became its ‘own’ country. I’m not especially clear on what they used before that…

Don’t ever stay here

We had the bad luck of choosing a hotel off the internet, and ended up staying at this weird creepy place called the Grange Hotel. I would sooner call it the Grunge Hotel, or maybe the Mange Hotel. Just creepy and semi-dirty in general. One of those places where you half wonder while you’re showering, if its being video-taped somehow.

Needless to say, we hauled ass out of there after the first night. Asking around at some pubs, we ended up settling in at the Travelodge on King’s Street and Bathurst for the next two nights. Which was perfectly nice and good. Our room had a balcony, although we didn’t really end up using it. Which is too bad.

Pubs vs. Clubs

Pubs are absolutely the key to having a good time in Toronto, it seems like. Just walk up and down any street downtown, and stop in every place you can find which suits your fancy. We mostly hit Irish pubs, and places like that. Everybody there is super-friendly, funny, and intelligent. I even heard people talking intelligently about international politics, which was incredible. That shit just doesn’t happen here, especially in Pittsburgh. Like I said, everybody’s really friendly in pubs. Bartenders, patrons. You’re pretty much welcome to and expected to join in on conversations when you’re there. Exactly the way pubs should be. Also, all the pubs had awesome food.

My favorite pubs were Southside Louies, the Friar and the Firkin, and another one that escapes me at the moment. At one of these clubs, I had the pleasure of hearing Milli Vanilli’s forgotten masterpiece, “Blame it on the Rain.”

My beer of choice in Toronto is Alexander Keith’s India Pale Ale. That shit is strong, delicious, and served pretty much everywhere. Makes a better draft than bottle beer, in my opinion. And, if I may make a bold pronouncement: the average Canadian beer is WAAAAAAAY better than the average American beer.

As to going out to nightclubs in Toronto, that was pretty much a total bust. While roving all these pubs, we collected information from bartenders and people sitting around, about good places to go out and take part in some hip-hop/r&b dancing, and just some general ass-shaking. The first night we went to this club that it just felt like we were crashing a bad highschool party. And we spent like $20 on cabfare.

Anyway, it sucked. Next night, we redoubled our fact-finding efforts, and got what seemed like a bunch of hot tips. We ended up in the “club district” of Toronto. Which consists of like maybe 5 city blocks, with probably like 30 different clubs of all shapes and sizes. With lots of intense street promotion. People handing out discounted and free passes. Girls dressed up like different things, flirting & handing stuff out. Buses lined up to drive you to this one club. People everywhere, everybody all revved up and ready to go.

After collecting passes for a while, we ducked in this one club, Oxygen. Totally empty. Ran out right away. Ducked in another called like maybe 442 or something. Lots of girls there. Nobody dancing. Went to the bathroom and ducked right back out. Jumped across the street to a club called Fluid. Again, lots of people. Nobody dancing. But we spent actual money getting in here, so we stayed. They were patting people down at the door, so I had to give up my knife for this one bouncer to hold. Luckily I got it back later.

Canada-ncing Girls

Toronto clubs are crazy. Not crazy in a good way. Not crazy in a way where people are going crazy. They seem to be going the opposite of crazy. Everybody stands around a super long time. Even when this one fucking kick-ass DJ was playing music which you couldn’t possibly sit still too, even if you had severe spinal cord injuries. But, of course, everybody just stood or sat around. We moved up towards the empty dancefloor.

Eventually, my brother and some girl ended up getting the whole party started. But it was like pulling teeth. Girls in clubs there will look at you, and will even shift their little group around so they can dance near you. But as soon as you approach them, however gently or remotely, they scatter like leaves on an autumn afternoon. I just don’t get it. My brother and I tried a million and one different approaches, and had pretty much a zero percent success rate. Which is very different than usual. At least back here in Pittsburgh. It was all backwards too, because the guys were way better dancers than the girls, and most started dancing far in advance of the girls.

We also went to a strip club there, “For Your Eyes Only,” which was down the street from our hotel. It was also super weird. The reason we went there initially was because I wanted to see how they got around the logistical problem of only having one and two dollar coins, and no paper bills. We postulated beforehand that they maybe carried those little metal change things on a belt around their waist, like train conductors do. Also, we were operating under the bright idea that strip clubs in an area are often a sort of raw, suped-up version of whatever the usual gender roles and sexual feel of a place is. Our theory here seemed to be proven, when the stage where the girls danced was behind a bar, behind a bartender. So you couldn’t even get close enough to the girls to tip them at all. Sort of a weird little sociological field trip. We left after drinking one beer and talking to a dancer named “Angel.”

Anyway, it just seems very weird to me that a city where they seem to have very liberal views of sex, and specialty condom boutiques everywhere, and live lingerie models in some stores, that people would be so restrained on the dance floor. It almost makes me think that the reason sex is so acceptable in the culture, has something to do with over-compensating for a lack of actual comfort with it.

But who knows. These are just kind of generalized observations gleaned from only a few nights out at a handful of clubs. I would be curious to hear any other people’s views who have been to Toronto, or live in other Canadian cities. If you’ve seen any of the above played out there as well.

Man. What the hell else happened? I can’t really remember now. Now that it’s done, it seems like kind of a long drunken blur. Very fun though, except for the nightclubs. Oh, I thought of another story:

Loyalists

Our first stop upon arriving at our hotel and settling in, was the pub I mentioned above, South Side Louie’s. I had spent a super-fun night there getting blasted with my friend Drew about two years ago. We made friends with locals who laughed at our lack of knowledge of Canada, and we just laughed, because the jokes still sort of on them. Hehe. But anyway, yeah, awesome people, great pub. So I figured we’d go back there, have some drinks, get established for the weekend. We sit down, throw back a Keith’s and some food. Make some jokes and talk to the people there a bit. Everything’s good. Starting to get a little buzzed. Then this dude comes in, sits down in between us and the cooler people already there. Starts talking about wanting to go down to the States for the weekend, blah blah blah. So, we engage him in conversation for a while, and it comes out that we’re American, etc. He stops. Looks around. Says, “Don’t worry… I’m with you.” Rolls up his shirt sleeve to reveal a tattoo of the Great Seal of America (you know, the eagle clutching the arrows and shit). And we’re just like “Damn!” to ourselves. Cause this dude is just getting louder and louder and more and more racist and stupid as the conversation goes on. Just blabbering nonsense about hookers and faggots and dykes and all kinds of shit. And he’s like going on and on about the United States this, and that, and why were in Canada for the 4th of July? And my brother stops him, and says kind of quietly, “Uh, you know, we’re not really ‘loyalists,’ so to speak.”

Anyway, that’s all I can really think of right now. I’m pretty tired from all the driving and then from going out again tonight. I have so much more to say, but it’s gonna have to wait. So, later on, eh?