On our way to Trinity Bellwoods’ park yesterday, a car in the oncoming lane tried to turn left in front of us. It was impeded by traffic and sat there in the intersection, blocking us so we couldn’t proceed through our green light. We were no more than ten feet away from the other car, and Rachelle and Heidi and I just looked at them. The driver was a young dude, and pretending that he didn’t notice us, he stared straight ahead, his face implacable.
Beside him in the passenger seat was a young woman who was visibly uncomfortable. She was rolling her eyes and shaking her head, exasperated with the driver. When our light turned red and we had to back-up out of the intersection, I gave them a thumb’s up so that they knew it had been a job well done. When I did this, the man did nothing, but the woman was entirely mortified. She put her hands over face and collapsed in her seat, sinking below window level, as if, like so many other young women, she felt the eyes of the world burrowing right into her..
The first thing we saw when we got to the park was a huge, handcrafted sign hanging from the fence the enclosed the tennis courts. Ten feet high, facing out onto Queen Street were the words: I MISS YOU.
Inside the park, six boys under the age of ten were trying to figure out how to play a game of football. It was clear that they wanted it to be like it was on TV, but this was entirely beyond their capacity. The fat boy hiked it over the quarterback’s head and anarchy was let loose. Amidst squeals of delight, they threw the ball all over the place and chased after one another, the game immediately and instinctively devolving into Hog. A mother watched, smiling and laughing.
In the park, we played fetch with Heidi. After about ten minutes, another dog—a young Labrador named Monty—stole her ball and would not give it back. The owner of Monty had blonde hair and wore fashionable Hunter boots. She looked like she had money and knew how to get reservations at exclusive restaurants, but she could not get the ball back from Monty. Embarrassed, she kept apologizing to us and following her dog around, trying to retrieve the slimy ball. It was no use. No matter what she did, the dog prevailed, utterly indifferent to her social standing in the city of Toronto.