The Blueman Group

One of a Kind craft show

Town Inn

Screaming Fun in Toronto, Part 1

by Christy

It was towards the end of our weekend jaunt to Toronto that the phrase, "screaming fun," was coined by Jan. We immediately burst into laughter, a sound not uncommon that weekend, and knew it was exactly what we’d had. With our voices hoarse, and our feet weary, we all settled back into the plush seats of Taryn’s Honda Civic (nick-named Maggie), popped in Mix Tape #3 for the ride home, and mulled over just what screaming fun is.

Where to begin? I guess it all started a while ago when Jan was telling us other craftygals about this huge craft show she attends every year with the Aunties the weekend after Thanksgiving in Toronto. It’s called the One of a Kind Craft Show. The arrangement was that she would do her usual trip with the Aunties the last weekend in November, and then the craftygals would have a go at it the following weekend.

We suffered a set back just prior to leaving when we got word that Amie wasn’t going to make it. We were all very saddened by the news, but understood her position as she struggled to wrap up some papers for her graduate courses. But like any good craftygals would, we knew we had to press on, for our mission was clear: To celebrate the launch of our site (finally), to take in the beauty of the craft show, and to get some leads for future articles. It was a mission from God, if you will, in true Blues Brothers fashion.

Our first (mis)adventure was in getting out of Rochester. It had snowed all night Friday, which was a little unsettling, but armed with clear weather reports from all our friends who were checking weather.com for us hourly, we got the green flag, and packed up Maggie around 2:00. While waiting at a red light for the express way, we Rock, Paper, Scissored for who would play their mix tape first. My scissors cut Taryn’s paper, and Jan’s rock demolished my weapon of choice.

We rocked out all the way past a funeral procession (not a good omen we thought), through Buffalo, and safely onto the QEW. About this time, we all realized we hadn’t really eaten a decent lunch, so we set out to find some grub. Jan called out, "How about Dora’s Diner?" from the back seat. Taryn and I kind of scrunched our noses at that one, and we kept driving. The next exit had a must try though, called Sizzlin’ Charlie’s, and we all knew we had to stop in honor of our very own sizzlin’ web master. We exited, with Taryn exclaiming, "I can usually make it to St. Catherine’s at least before I stop to eat." Much to our dismay, we drove far past the said one mile with no sign of Charlie. We turned around, and headed back looking to settle on Tim Horton’s, but at the last minute, we saw the poor signage, and all gasped with glee that we had found Sizzlin’ Charlie’s.

We made a U-ie in a fire station parking lot, and found our first picture-worthy subject. As Taryn made the sweeping turn, we spotted a makeshift particleboard doghouse, but there was something very "special" about this doghouse. The door was not cut out, but rather painted on. A spotty, at best, job was done on the door, and "Sparky" was emblazoned over the door. We all leapt from the car, and I snapped this shot.

The craftygals at a very crafty fire station.

Unfortunately, Sparky had gnawed through his rope, and had run away, so we didn’t get to play with him. Stomachs growling, laughter tears streaming, we piled back in the car, and headed to Charlie’s as Jan’s mix tape faded out. Since it was 4:00, even too early for early-bird special seekers, we were the only people in the joint for a bit. A generous gentleman came and took our drink orders. As we looked out the window of our booth, we realized we were looking right at Sparky’s parking lot. We saw neither hide nor hair of him while dining. The apps. were good, the free chicken soup was great (unless you were Jan of course, whose bowl had the most meat in it; poor veggie head), and the dinners were wonderful. He never offered dessert, but Jan assured us that a spot in Toronto would suit us just fine once we got there, so we squared up with our server Vince, and headed for the car.

Taryn proposed a thumb war for the rights to the tape deck, and she won, although the match was clouded with cheating, and involved a ref. on the take (who shall remain nameless, but her initials are J. M.C. and she was sitting in the back seat). As Abba and other such frivolity played on the wrongfully won tape deck, we rolled into Toronto abuzz with anticipation. We trekked up Church to the Town Inn, which I suddenly realized I used to stay at with my drama club in high school. Ah the memories! We checked in, let a strange man in the hotel from the garage, and settled into our 26^th floor room. We all marveled at the efficiency of our, well, efficiency, and then headed off to the Brownstone for dessert.

We enjoyed some sweet drinks and rich desserts at the Brownstone on Young. Jan was instantly recognized by, we assume, the owner. Just after our emptied, ravaged dishes were removed, the waitress read our minds and brought us all water with lemon. Refreshing! The owner came over to chat with us a moment, and soon learned our plans to go out on the town for the night. He must have sensed what was in store for us, because he said, "I better close up the shop early tonight, the girls are out!" That got us going again, and we were quickly snapped out of our near sugar-induced comas. We split the bill up, left a tip, and bundled back up for our walk back to the hotel.

Just before getting our second wind, we found Romy and Michele’s High School Reunion on the tellie. We sat long enough to watch the dance routine at the reunion as inspiration for our big night out. As it ended, we proceeded to get gussied up; black was the color choice of the evening. All well coifed, we hit the street, hailed a cab, and directed our driver to the Reservoir Lounge; Taryn called "Church and Wellington, the Resevoir Lounge," and although she didn’t say, "On the double!" it was in her voice.

After standing in the cold for a few minutes, we made it to the door, slipped inside, and slowly made it up to the velvet rope. While waiting, we learned a crafty new way to get yourself into a bar, without waiting in line. When we were about half way down the stairs, the girl came down from behind us, splitting the crowd like the Red Sea, "Excuse me, excuse me. I left my credit card at the bar. I just need to run back in and get it. I’m coming right back out." In the 10 or 15 minutes we were waiting, to get in still, we never saw her again. We’ll be sure to employ that trick next time we’re out.

Once on the correct side of the velvet rope (well, maybe it was velour), we checked our coats, and Taryn set out to find a good spot by the bar with a view of the stage. We didn’t make it through the masses without our mishaps. On the way, a "gentleman" at the bar "accidentally" brushed Taryn’s boob. He immediately apologized, but we just kept moving. I heard him say to his companion that, "I better keep my hands at my side, I’m getting in trouble." Taryn filled Jan in on the "brush" once we got to the bar and placed our drink order: Cosmopolitan for Jan, Taryn was drinking Whisky Sours (and later, Screwdrivers), and I was doing Gimlets. We kept one elbow on the bar, a coveted spot, and two feet grooving on the floor as we waited for the band to take the stage again.

Here we are with our new friends, Paul on the left, and Kahn on the right. They didn’t seem so seedy at the bar. Hmmmmm.

Eventually they did, we were there to see Tory Cassis and his swing/jive band, and suddenly Taryn said, "Hey you guys, the guy who touched my boob is in the band!" Both Jan and I, on tiptoes, strained to see this fellow sitting down with his guitar on his lap. As the light went on in my head, Jan yelled, "Dude, that’s Jeff Healey!!!!!" Well that was it. Our night could have ended right there! We were absolutely laughing the hardest we’ve ever laughed. We got so much mileage out of Taryn’s brush with fame, er… umm… fame’s brush with Taryn that the night just kept getting better and better.

We craftily enchanted the two fellows who were standing in front of us, and they bought us at least three rounds of drinks, but it could have been four. The band was rocking, and we even got to enjoy Tory’s dad singing with the band, and Jeff on the trumpet. It was an amazing night. We made friends with all sorts of folks, including the doorman who did an amazing Krusty the Klown impersonation for us (how he knew we were Simpsons addicts we’ll never know). By the time we left, we were scoring people’s business cards all over (well, Jan was at least) and the doorman was inviting us to come back. After kissing us all on the cheek, he called us all by name as we were making our way back to the street level. It was truly magical.

A short taxi ride back to the hotel, and we slipped up to the room to put on our jammies. With a fierce case of the munchies, we grabbed wads of change and went on a vending machine hunt in our stocking feet. Although we could only find one vendo with soda (no candy!!!), we did find the "Business Centre" with two Internet-ready computers. We emailed everyone we knew with the Jeff Healey news flash, that included Amie, significant others, Charles, and a couple other worthy friends.

Once back at the room, we ordered a pizza, and waited for our cheesy pie to arrive. We pulled out the sofa-sleeper so Taryn could get her bed made (oh, and it already was made). After she warned us not to sit on the end of the bed, I sat right down to turn on the TV, and fell right through to the floor. So, take it from me, don’t sit on the end of the sofa-sleeper in room 2606 at the Town Inn.

All settled, we found an interesting Blue Man Group bit on TV, Jan and I listened to Taryn’s breathing get real steady (sleepy) and waited for the pizza to arrive. It took over an hour, and we had all given up on it. In fact, as per Murphy’s Law, we had just put out all the lights and turned in when there was a rapping at our door. The prodigal pizza had come home and it was cold. We renamed the pizza joint Big Slice o’ Shite, ate it all up (of course) and then went back to bed. All was quiet in the dark hotel efficiency. Pillows were properly fluffed and placed, and suddenly, out of the blackness I heard Jan laughing. God only knows which myriad of happenings she was laughing about at that point. Taryn and I knew it wasn’t important, so we both just grinned (well I did at least) and fell asleep to Jan quietly laughing, evermore. It was about 4:30 or 5.