Life on the periphery

I was in Toronto today attending a work-related educational conference. When the lunch break came, I decided I needed to pop outside for a bit of fresh air to clear my head. The conference was taking place in the area of City Hall, so I wandered down to Nathan Phillips and watched the skaters gliding around the ice for a bit while I enjoyed a “World’s Best” Hot Dog – you can find them right next to the “Best in Toronto” Hot Dogs, logical inconsistencies notwithstanding.

Before returning to the lecture hall, I popped into the public bathroom. As I turned the corner heading into the washroom – always a bit of a scary moment, if only for hygiene-related reasons, when the public lavatory in question is located in a busy urban area – I overheard the following conversation:

Homeless Guy With Head Wound That Was Obviously Bleeding Profusely Not So Long Ago: “…see, but I’m not. I’m not suicidal. I’m homicidal.”

Concerned Looking Homeless Guy: “Yeah, the cops told me to get down and I didn’t get down, and then they beat the shit out of me.”

H.G.W.H.W.T.W.O.B.P.N.S.A: “Fuckin’ ay.”
C.L.H.G: “See, ’cause I don’t bring no weapons, I don’t carry no weapons. I take your weapons and turn ’em on you.”

It occurred to me that maybe I ought to wait and use the bathroom at the conference facility.

By junior

Guitar owner and silly person.

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