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Downtown People

May 2, 2016

Every once in a while, I go downtown and remind myself why I so rarely go downtown.

First, there’s the commute. Every route that isn’t under construction is slowed down by an automobile collision. If not that, the cab that has parked itself in front of a driveway is creating havoc in it’s rear because nobody can turn into that driveway.

Then there’s the yellers. You know those people who sit at bar patios at 10:00am and yell cat calls at all the young ladies who walk by. “Hey princess! Why don’t you turn around and come here. Don’t pretend like you don’t hear me!”

Then, there’s the people who look and seem normal, but don’t know how to use a bathroom. It’s Saturday, it’s 11:00am. I enter a cafe for a late breakfast, early lunch. (Arepa Cafe on Queen Street. Delicious!) There was two men in the cafe before me. I ordered a coffee then went downstairs to wash my hands before eating. The bathroom was clean, probably hadn’t been used yet that day. I ate some food, drank some coffee. The arepa was a bit messy. I went back downstairs to wash up a bit. I found the men’s room a pigsty. TP in the bowl, stuck to the side above the water line. Pissed in water in the bowl that wasn’t flushed. Paper towel in shreds all over the floor. Thirty minutes prior this place was clean, spotless. I’m not positive which guy made the mess but it had to have been one of the two guys who were in there before me. This place was not rammed and I’m certain both of these men left the table at some point between my two trips to the sink. As for other men entering the establishment, it might have been them but they would have had to walk by me to go down the stairs to the latrine. Not that I was paying attention to these people, but I was sorta people watching while I ate.

And of course there’s those people who sleep and snore in the hallways that lead from those tall buildings to nearby subway stations. Probably the same people who stand up five feet from all of there worldly possessions, turn around and pee on the sidewalk. I know, there’s problems and such, but that can’t be the solution.

Lastly, not that this is exclusive to downtown but it happens a lot more in the city. Those women who get out of cabs on a chilly Saturday night wearing a top that is so tight it could be classified as paint and a skirt so short it would be otherwise considered a belt. They don’t get it. Or maybe I don’t get it but it just seems easier (and less frost-bite inducing if they would just buy a sweater and pair of pants at the same disposable clothing store they bought the paint and belt at, wore the sweater and pants outside and disrobed once getting inside the bar. It’s not like they’re going to end the night wearing clothes at all. If they valued their dignity and self-respect, they wouldn’t wear the paint and belt in the first place. (Yeah, that’s right. I’m slut-shaming. When I need to get my rocks off, I head to DarcKnyt’s bordello/butcher shoppe. Best place in town to buy some ham and get a load of those gams.)

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One Comment leave one →
  1. May 8, 2016 3:11 pm

    Women aren’t any better at using public restrooms. :-p I agree that peeing on the sidewalk is not the solution to that problem, or any other problem.

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