Yesterday morning, a Saturday, I packed up a bag and headed to Toronto via train for a short vacation, its ultimate purpose being to see The Smashing Pumpkins for their Spirits on Fire tour. It was to be my first time spending a night away from Scout since adopting him last spring and despite my excitement at taking this vacation, I also worried about how he would handle it. More than that, I would miss my boy!
He was in good hands, though; My brother and his girlfriend agreed to care for him while I was away. I gave Scout his breakfast and a big cuddle, then I set off for the train station just in time. That in itself was an interesting experience, because the last time I’d taken the train (from Montreal to Ottawa) had been nearly 15 years earlier, so I truly had no recollection of the area. I had the sense, as I was walking up to the station, of already being in a different city.
My short long-weekend adventure had begun.
The train ride itself went fine, and we arrived at Union Station on time, but not long into the journey I began developing a migraine and it only got worse with every passing hour. The sun was piercing through the window (of course I had taken a window seat, right in the path of the sunbeam) and though I closed the curtain over the window, there was nothing for it: the migraine was intent on developing. I spent most of the ride breathing through the discomfort, returning messages, and tinkering with projects on my phone.
I… also had to use the bathroom at one point, and the amount of swaying that the train did made some ordinarily simple business into a comical and tricky balancing act. While nursing a migraine.
Suffice to say it was An Experience.
Thankfully, after the train arrived at the station getting to my accommodations simply meant a short subway ride and then a brisk, rather straightforward walk from the subway station, right along Church street, through the heart of Toronto’s gay village.
I had to do a double-take when I passed by a record shop because when I had glanced in the window, I had noticed the shopkeeper trying to wrangle a flailing pigeon in the window display. When they noticed me trying not to laugh, they gave me a sheepish look, still trying to catch the music-loving bird, and I went on my way.
It was a relief when I stepped into the house I had booked a room in. Quiet, the entry hall dark. Considering that the migraine was starting to get nauseating, the dim environs were a blessing. I climbed a narrow staircase, reached an equally-narrow landing, and let myself into my room.
It was all dark, heavy wooden furniture, elaborate embroidered art pieces, and grey walls with an electric fireplace. I was charmed.
I changed out of my travel clothes, freshened up a little, and tried to pluck up the nerve to go out and eat, but simply couldn’t. The thought of eating made me feel sick, and my head pounded like hell unless I covered my eyes and curled up in a ball, so I ended up unintentionally falling asleep.
I woke up well after dark, and while my migraine had almost entirely dissipated at that point, and some restaurants would still have been open, I decided to well and truly call it a night and just get into bed.
The next day, I vowed, I would truly feast.
.
When I woke this morning, despite my gnawing hunger, I felt a whole lot better. I double-checked the map on my phone, put on an outfit, and set off on a walk. As is sometimes my habit when I’m in a new urban area, I found the restaurant I wanted to order from right away, but kept walking past it at first in order to explore the street I was on a little more. And on Yonge street, there was certainly plenty to see, both in terms of the types of shops I found, and in terms of the graffiti that urban artists had scrawled in the margins of the buildings everywhere.
On the way back, I happened to walk up to an enormous gathering of pigeons and instead of scattering and waddling away from me like Ottawa pigeons normally do, they all rushed over to me, some on foot, some flying, and cried out for food. I was more amused than alarmed by them… but I certainly wasn’t about to share my delectable sandwich. I kept on my way and they let me.
The egg BLT sandwich on Japanese milk bread was almost too good to be true. Soft, fluffy, flavourful… I was in heaven. Their house-made hash brown stuffed with seasoned mashed potato was utterly delicious too. It was just the sort of rich meal that my stomach had needed.
I had intended to go on a Haunted Walk tour in a pioneer village, but the only time slot that worked for me sold out before I could buy a ticket. There was a later time slot available, but there was no way in hell I was going to return to my hotel alone near midnight after experiencing the (delightful) creepiness of that place.
I shook off the small disappointment and once again headed out, this time to another part of the city but despite having looked the shop location up on the map, I… got lost. I got off at the right stop on the subway, but upon exiting, I lost my internet connection, and so for a bit just wandered up the wrong side of the street I was on until I finally reestablished connection and had to do a big U-turn. Even then, I accidentally missed the shop, tucked away off the main street as it was, and when I finally did find the place, I was a little tired but incredibly relieved.
Members Only Waffle House
A little waffle house that deals exclusively in salacious puns.
That is, in waffles shaped like penises and vulvas.
And just in case you’re wondering whether it is simply a gimmick, it’s not — the waffles are cooked and topped to perfection. Firm on the outside, velvet-soft on the inside, the one I was saddled with was an absolute delight to eat.
The staff were extremely attentive, guiding me through the ordering process with a plethora of euphemisms, double-entendres, and puns. I left a satisfied customer.
Instead of loitering around the shop to take my first mouthful, I walked a little further down the side-street until I eventually found a little park. There, I sat, admired the perfectly-garnished member, took a few selfies with it (of course), and then finally enjoyed my glorious treat.
Ahem.
I returned again to my room sometime before the sun began to set, and after a bit of hemming and hawing decided to try a pub that had intrigued me the night before. A certain Storm Crow Manor.
Only problem was, I hadn’t thought to bring my trustiest D20 with me. But it turned out alright and we’ll get to that.
Even going there as late as I did into dinner service that evening, I almost didn’t get a table. Despite how much I enjoy quiet places and keeping to myself, a packed restaurant or concert hall offers its own sort of comfortable anonymity. And being among so many other nerds was great too. Come to think of it, I hadn’t been in that kind of atmosphere since before the pandemic started, when I’d gone to my last board game café night with friends, or attended a comic convention.
They had to search through their seating charts for a bit but eventually found me a table and led me on what felt like a labyrinthine path through the manor to get to a room on the upper floor. The Star Wars room, as it turned out. Just across from where I sat, overhead, was a model of the Millennium Falcon suspended from the ceiling, surrounded by an small field of asteroids and a plethora of smaller ships approaching from somewhere above my left ear.
There were many things on the menu that interested me (including a Dragon Ball themed noodle bowl!) but none more so than their signature customizable burger made by rolling a D20 and filling in a character sheet for it. When the server asked if I needed an explanatiom for how to roll and fill out the character sheet, I held up a hand with a chuckle and said, “no, I’m good, thanks.” Mercifully, they provide a D20 to all patrons that need one, as not everyone carries a D20 everywhere, but I sorely missed my dice collection in that moment. Still, the die I was given served me well, and I rolled several crits!
For the most part, I did just go with the roll of the dice, but I admit, there were a few instances where I made some adjustments. In the case of alignment, though, I was kind of annoyed when I rolled a crit and had to choose my own instead of being saddled with one. I selected Chaotic Neutral at first, hesitated, scribbled it out, and selected Chaotic Good instead. Chaotic Neutral behaviour. Ha! It reminded me of my old character Helecretia, though. She was possessed by a chaotic god (or demon) and so whenever I had to make a choice, I would roll a D10 to determine what her alignment was in that moment. I would also change how I spoke during the session whenever I changed alignment. My group… was not particularly fond of that playstyle choice. Heheheh…
But I digress.
The burger turned out pretty tasty, all in all! Though the side salad was so enormous, I could only eat about half of it in one sitting. I named the character (burger) The Sagacious Gunner… but if you look closely at the photo of the character sheet, you’ll notice I misspelled Sagacious.
Alas. I am incorrigible.
At one point when I was partway through eating, the lights in our room suddenly turned red, and The Imperial March started playing. A very familiar voice then filled the room, as a harried server scurried past our tables holding the speaker’s helmet aloft. The music ended. The lights turned back to normal.
A table had ordered a Darth Vader themed bowl of punch.
Man, it was frickin’ awesome.
There were individual bathrooms dotted throughout the establishment, but the majority were down in the dungeon so after paying for my surprisingly entertaining meal, I made a beeline for the bathroom area. I simply had to see it for myself.
After descending multiple flights of stairs, I reached one covered overhead in skulls, and figured I must be in the right place. I found the sign saying ‘CONTAMINATION PROTOCOLS ACTIVE’ to be rather a comforting one. At the bottom of the stairs was a concrete-covered landing with tons of doors, all of them looking like they were out of horror, science fiction, or straight-up zombie apocalypse scenarios. The message spray-painted at the end of the hall gave me a chuckle. I loved everything about it.
I selected decontamination chamber 0005 and, well, decontaminated.
It appealed so well to my sense of humour, it almost didn’t seem real.
It was the type of place so filled with attention to detail that you could go five times, be seated in different rooms, and have completely different dining experiences each time. Which is to say, I would definitely go back if I ever visit the city again.