Tag Archives: Traffic

Two Parking Spaces

It was a long time ago.  I was visiting mom and dad in Toronto, from my new home in Alberta.  I wanted to visit my old favourite bookstore on Hoskin Street and borrowed dad’s car.

I was creeping along Hoskin, trying to remember what the storefront looked like.  And there it was!  Plus an empty parking space.  I put on my turn signal, pulled alongside the car in front, looked over my shoulder, and prepared to demonstrate my parallel parking skills.

And then … horn blaring from behind.  Again and again.  A car was right up to my rear bumper.  I couldn’t back into the space.

I was shocked, and that noise kept blasting into my head.  Every muscle contracted and so did my brain.  I put dad’s car into “Drive” and sped off.

On a side street, I gathered myself (sort of).  Heart still pounding.  Fear in my throat.  Shame in my soul.  Why did I give in?  Why did I let another human being abuse me?  Well … maybe because I was 35 and scared of everybody.

Over the years, I’ve looked back at that moment and cringed.  Over the years, I’ve become a Buddhist and have seen peace grow within me.  Equanimity.  Doing no harm.  But in the midst of “letting go”, over and over again, I also see the need to stand up, stand tall, and defend my rights.

Yesterday, I was creeping along Dundas Street in London, seeking a parking space near Aeolian Hall.  And there’s one!  I put on my turn signal, pulled alongside the car in front, looked over my shoulder, and prepared to demonstrate my parallel parking skills.

I started backing and began turning the wheel when I was opposite the car’s rear bumper … Honk!  Honk!

Glancing into my side mirror, there was the front end of a car inches from my rear.  Honk!  I couldn’t risk going back further.  Honk!  But neither could I risk sacrificing my soul on the altar of peer pressure.

I held Scarlet at the severe angle.  Two more honks.  I sat.  Silence.  And then the driver behind squealed their tires around me.  I nodded.

Behind was another car, a more patient variety.  I checked my mirrors and pulled into the spot pretty well.

I sat some more.  No fluttering heart.  No mega-pulse.  Just quiet inside.

A lot has happened in the years between.  I guess I’ve grown up.  And something else too.  In the nighttime of Dundas Street, my eyes moistened.  I thought of the honker and felt so sad for him or her.  What kind of life must it be if you have to block a fellow traveller from his simple mission?  Does every little thing cause pain for this person?  And what’s it like for their family?

The world needs kindness, assertiveness and happiness.  May we all live here.

Urinal

I left home for my Toronto trip minus one essential accessory.  Since I usually have to pee twice during the night, a urinal sits beside my bed.  Not this time.

No problem.  After all, this is the metropolis of Toronto and Shoppers Drug Mart is an easy walk from the B&B.  Let’s see … “incontinence” and “constipation” – sounds like the perfect aisle.  Nope, and actually no aisle did the job.  “I suggest you drive to Shoppers Home Health Care on Lawrence Avenue near Bathurst.”  Thank you, sir.  I know those stores have lots of medical equipment – wheelchairs, walkers, urinals.

So off I went in dear Scarlet, 4:30 on a Friday.  Rush hour can’t be that bad.  Wrong.  I stopped and started and stopped all the way along Lawrence.  Strangely, I was pretty loosy goosy about it all.  Gave me a chance to drink in a 200-metre-long mural under an overpass, full of vibrant faces and the wonders of the natural world.  Some of my friends in adjoining cars were quite antsy, however, zipping in and out of lanes, only to end up one or two car lengths ahead.

Finally a left turn into Lawrence Plaza and I was there.  I strode confidently into the store and was greeted by a woman wearing a huge smile.  “Oh, sir, those have been backordered for two weeks.”  (Sigh)  All this way for no peeing vessel.  What I did find on the shelf was a yellow plastic peanut-shaped thing, about two inches high and eight inches long.  I calculated how much pee it would hold and whether that would fulfill my nightly needs.  “Oh, just buy it, Bruce.”  $1.12.

Homeward bound to the B&B.  Altogether the round trip was one hour and twenty minutes but at least I wouldn’t be stumbling to the hallway bathroom at 3:00 am.

3:00 am

I sat on the edge of the bed and did my thing in the soft glow of the table lamp.  I watched expectantly as the urine climbed the walls of the peanut.  The flow stopped about 3/8 of an inch from the lip.

9:00 am

Open my bedroom door.  Open the bathroom door.  Put up the toilet seat.  Return to the bedroom.  Grasp the peanut at each end.  Walk oh so slowly out of my room, down the hall and into the bathroom, negotiating a variety of changes in flooring.  Think “What if someone comes by right now?”  Worry.  No one.  Tip the contents into the toilet.  Rinse the vessel.  Slink back to my room.

Okay, this doesn’t rank up there with an entrancing conversation or an inspiring concert but it still was a true life adventure.  Sometimes you just have to go with the flow.