Day 2: I failed to mention that Business and I attempted to do one tourist activity the first day. There is apparently some castle with all kinds of amazing history and secret tunnels to explore. A three-mile walk and all we found was a crazy rich neighborhood where we should have tried to get adopted.
Armed with the knowledge of day one, as well as a slight hangover, we explored the area in an effort to start bar hopping later in the evening. Like proper New Yorker’s, we made for the subway and got ourselves around. Some light shopping and then we came upon the Beer Academy. Not only did they have several amazing in-house beers, the atmosphere was coffee shop meets your favorite local bar. If only I could stick this place in my bag and bring it home. For those of you that make it to Toronto and enjoy beer this is a must visit brewery.
This new day also brought up a new challenge. Because this was a foreign country, the data and phone rates for AT&T are irrationally high. Not paying too much attention, it was a surprise when the phone company let me know what the cost was, but even more surprising that they had turned the phone off so it only worked when there was WiFi. Meaning, Business and I were practically begging every waiter, bartender and person who looked like they had a password to share. It worked enough to get us by, but my addiction to technology has never been through such a test. If you were to drop me in the middle of a forest, I’d die. Not from starvation or animal attacks, but from the amount of time it would take to walk back to civilization and access a signal, it’s too hard.
Still not that late in the day, Business and I decided to have a happy hour and just go slow. Surprise – Toronto has no happy hour. Torture. So, we sat and drank at a place with a name I can’t recall, but the bartender was bored enough to chat and turned out to be awesome. If he didn’t work until closing, Business and I probably would have been fighting over which one of us he had to take home. So we drank. And drank. And drank. Then the music across the street beckoned, coming from the bar that the day prior was empty except for the sky-high bartender.
A show was in progress, not just any show, a drag show with a performance of the Lion King. I’d like to say I’m being funny, but she was actually singing music from the movie and dressed in some crazy mess outfit that was so large it hit the ceiling and bent her feathers. Again, no one was dancing. This must be why everyone in Toronto has a pot belly, they never wiggle around to shake it off. The only downside to this bar is that while on my way to the washroom, I got hooked on a nail and ripped my favorite BK shirt. My wounds were healed when a lesbian showed me how she liked to pee in the urinal. Maybe not healed, but at least forgotten. Again, not trying to be funny – that happened.
Alas, my ass needed to shake again. We were given a tip from the last bar’s bartender of where to go, some restaurant that converts at midnight. And then it happened; Ke$ha’s C’mon played and we tore it up. Most of the people got into it, but no one like Business and I. We would do the same thing at home, but this clearly made us standout, people here just don’t dance. What was shocking is that after more than an hour of breaking it down only a small handful of the immense crowd even moved. More shocking, the guy I’m convinced was starring the entire time never came up to either of us, damn.