Yonge and Gloucester, 11am
Scruffy Guy: (falling in line with me as I walk north) Buddy! Sir! Bud?
Me: Uh yeah?
SG: Is this the 11?
Me: –?
SG: Highway 11. To Thunder Bay?
Me: It’s the 11, all right. Dont know if it goes to Thunder Bay.
SG: mumble Thunder Bay that’s me mumble.
Me: Yeah. Longest street in the world, at least.
SG: If I don’t turn and keep going I’ll make it. Three days.
Me: Three days?
SG: I keep going!
Me: Good luck with that!
4 thoughts on “11 to Thunder Bay”
EP! It hangs to the left this fine day. How’s tricks with you, sunshine?
College streetcar eastbound @ Bathurst St, 11:50 p.m. Friday April 7 2006. Passenger in the rear centre seat pretends to vomit. Loudly. Repeatedly. With great gesturation. (It’s amazing what kind of stress I can endure on public transit once I’ve put away a few Manhattans.)
Overheard from crazy guy: “Yeah, they sure didn’t like that at Kennedy airport! Weren’t gonna let me on the plane… they were all like, ‘buddy, you’re too wasted to get on the plane!'”
I kept my eyes focused on the Days Inn tower at Carlton Street, knowing I’d be off soon.
Hiya Mike! How’s it hanging?!?
Perhaps Sharkboy needs clearer directions to get to work …?