From the outset, today’s plans were always going to be a big dodgy. Although we had a definitively hard schedule for 6pm, the rest was to be made up as we went.
Obviously, we’ve been to Toronto before. Alex lived here when she went to school, I lived in Oakville for just under half my life. The girls only have memories from their two times in Toronto in 2015 and 2019; they’ve only barely seen Toronto, once from the CN Tower (and that’s the older memory), they’ve not even been on the subway.
And then there’s the weather. The smoke conditions are still present – the air quality index is still charting 10+ – so going up the Tower again seemed pointless. And then there’s the time to get around parts of Toronto. So we pretty much decided to wing it.
The four of us drove to the Oakville station (walking is an option, but walking back in the dark, under the QEW, isn’t really an option they wanted to consider) and had to figure out how to get tickets. GO Transit and many of its connecting transit services have largely shifted to Presto – the expectation is that you have a Presto card. Which we don’t.
Back in ye olde days, there was a ticket booth with real people. You told them where you were going, they gave you tickets. That was replaced with machines, which lasted for a couple of decades (it seems) before Presto fully took hold. Now it’s all tap on/tap off with either Presto or credit cards, which is a much smarter process.
Still, I miss asking for a ticket. (Holy shit, I’m getting old… [facepalm])
The cost was something else, though. Nearly $12 one way into Toronto. A day pass was cheaper, but it was nearly $100 for the four of us.
The GO conductor still makes announcements, but the station arrivals are now all pre-recorded. And in French. I’m not sure what’s happened in recent years, but I can only imagine someone managed to pass a law requiring Ontario to be more bilingual. We’ve seen it in highway signs, too. Supporting more tourism, maybe? Or that Ontario wants to be more like the Feds? Either way, I miss the “[Station name], this station stop, [station name]”, which was inevitably followed with “stand clear of the doors, please”.
It was a slower than usual ride. I suspect due in part to construction and likely also a slow order due to the heat threatening to buckle the rails.
We bucked out of Union Station onto Bay St. and headed south, rounding the Scotiabank Arena, past the tour busses, and up to the west side where Choo Choo hoped to find her concert friend…
Right. Concert. Choo Choo loves Louis Tomlinson. (Specifically his music, just so we’re clear.) I wouldn’t stay “teenage obsessively”, but let’s just say that the impetus for this trip to Ontario literally circled about scoring two tickets to see Louis Tomlinson in concert. (It’s not the first time we’ve travelled for music. It won’t be the last.) And Choo Choo has been researching the event, finding new contacts online, and wanted to meet a couple of them.
Choo Choo found her people. And she couldn’t be happier. (Well, actually…)
It was only 11:30. There was over six hours to go until the doors opened. What to do…? How about lunch?
Amazingly, Toronto hadn’t yet descended upon the patios along Bremner, so we swooped into an empty one. Alex quickly realized it was Italian, which is problematic for those with wheat allergies (it often means just a salad, which she endured yesterday). A quick scan of other options included the Rec Room at the Roundhouse. And being the responsible person I am, I also checked the Steam Whistle brewery, in case they had a good kitchen.
Turns out, Steam Whistle was by bar the preferable option. We ate wedged between a wooden boxcar and ex-CP Alco S-2 #7020. The special was a jerk chicken wrap that was absolutely delicious.
After lunch, Alex went off caching. The girls and I went to Ripley’s Aquarium of Canada. They’d wanted to do two things (other than the concert, of course): the Aquarium and the CN Tower. Given the smoke conditions (though it was decidedly clearer than when we went to The Falls), I didn’t want to deal with the cost without as-close-to-ideal conditions.
Not that the Aquarium was much better. It was busy. Whether it was Friday, whether it was because of the concert and the Jays game, there were a lot more people than I was expecting. The last time we’d gone to the Aquarium in 2015, it felt like we had the place to ourselves. Now we were fighting for breathing room. And nearly $150 for the three of us, even with the 15% discount if you showed your Jays tickets.
“Anenenenenomemenes.” IYKYK. I’m sure we got strange looks.
The highlights – there were two – were the tunnel under the sharks (which is truly amazing), and petting the sting rays. If you’ve not been, there is a massive tank that features Green Sea Turtles, several varieties of fish, and at least three species of shark (Nurse, Thresher, and Reef were the ones I could recognize, though the internet thinks there’s 17 different varieties). There’s a transparent tunnel that weaves along the bottom, letting you see these wonderful creatures as close as you might want to get without actually swimming with them. (I have Bigteethaphobia, so I’m quite happy to stay dry in the tunnel, thank you very much.)
Another tank, separate from the sharks, features a lot of rays, in particular Cownose Rays, which have developed a curious need to be petted by humans. I say “need” as they’ll actively swim up out of the water on the sides of the tank, knowing they’ll be touched.
We headed back to the Scotiabank Arena after that, as Choo Choo needed to be closer to the upcoming action. Alex arrived not long after, leaving shortly after with Monkey to each get a tattoo.
Choo Choo met more people. We talked with some of the other excited concert goers. I helped a group of four with their group photo featuring Louis on a massive electronic billboard behind them (and got labelled “Dad of the Year” for having to squat for so long to get the picture).
The merch trailer opened around 2:40. Choo Choo was about #20 in line and vibrated with excitement to get her official concert merchandise. She had been researching it for months so knew quite well what she wanted: A zip-up hoodie, a keychain, and a necklace. She was so happy to get them that she couldn’t stop smiling and her hands literally shook. I was absolutely delighted for her.
Not long after, we headed up to the Jack Astor’s on Front Street (near Union Station, as I understand there’s more than one on Front) and got a table. We split a garlic pan bread (with cheese, of course) and waited in the overpoweringly restaurant for the rest to appear. We listened to the music (featuring the iconic “OK, Blue Jays”, which was the anthem back in the early 80s).
Only Monkey ended up getting a tattoo (a quote from Project Hail Mary: <brave>). She’s been obsessed with the movie and the book, having seen or read these several times. Apparently the tattooist couldn’t get their act together quickly enough and Alex didn’t get her chance.
Asinkwe arrived not too long after and we could visit. Although only two people away, though, I could barely hear her over the crowd, prominently Blue Jays fans.
The girls broke away for the concert afterwards. Choo Choo was anxious to get back and experience everything. Asinkwe, Alex, and I headed off down Front towards John Street. We separated there, Asinkwe heading home, and we headed towards SkyDome.
Yes, it’s SkyDome. It will always be SkyDome for me. You can put whatever other bloody name you want on it, but I can’t hear anything else.
We stopped briefly in Nickleby’s for souvenirs, then followed another couple to the Jays official store in the Dome to find something for Alex. Her favourite player is Roberto Alomar, who hasn’t been a known name in Toronto for a long time, outside of sexual misconduct allegations (which I’ve opted not to tell her about). She settled for a traditional blue jersey without a name.
Finding Cathy, we headed in through Gate 2 and up the long, windy route to the 500 level, entering at the Corona “Rooftop” Lounge. It was still a bit of a hike to section 513. We beveraged up before climbing the rather step hike to Row 25 and our high view of the field. The Dome was closed, unfortunately, probably due to the air quality issues. I didn’t mind, as we’d have been in full sun, which would have been uncomfortable.
I haven’t seen the Jays play since 2001 and probably haven’t been in the Dome since ten years before that. And although the game has changed slightly – there’s now a pitch clock and the times between innings are highly controlled (all likely due to advertizing pressures) – it was the game I remembered: mostly boring. Alex was bored, too, which I found amusing as she’s the one who wanted to go in the first place. Cathy was by far the most interested of the three of us.
The most interesting(?) thing for me was my bowel, which started to give me discomfort around the third inning. Exactly why, I don’t know, but something was being overly active, forcing me down to the washrooms for an inning or so trying to get whatever it was (turned out to be merely gas) sorted out. Fortunately, I could hear the crowd.
My memory of watching the Jays earlier in my life, in the seats just above the Visitor’s bench (tickets typically courtesy of our neighbour, John Gairdner), the Toronto crowd was polite … and reserved. A fantastic play would receive an enthusiastic, but quiet round of applause with a few cheers from the high benchers. That all changed during the 92-93 World Series runs when Dave Winfield joined the team and demanded: “Winfield wants NOISE!”
I suspect the rise of the Raptors also helped. Toronto is now much more boisterous than I ever remembered (still nothing compared to Seattle when I was there in ‘01). It certainly made the game more appealing.
The Jays had their asses handed to them, unfortunately. One eight-run inning from the White Sox all but killed the Jays’ chances of winning that game. I joked with Alex that I used to have a lot of superstitions about watching them play in hopes they’d win.
By the seventh inning stretch, the audience had taken a hint and about half had left. It made for a quicker exit, though getting down from the top of the nosebleeds is still a slow process. The concert had already let out, and we found the girls by the tour busses, where the fans waited for Louis’ storied exit to head to the next venue in Detroit.
We waited about 40 minutes. The crowd cheered every single person who left through the exit, which were various crew. Alex and Cathy headed to the station – Cathy was well beyond her bedtime, and I knew Alex wasn’t too keen on waiting ad nauseum. But even Choo Choo didn’t last much longer, her feet having finally given up and declaring separation. We caught up to the mothers and headed home.
Choo Choo was exhausted, fading between wanting to sleep and showing me pictures of her experiences tonight. I smiled and was very happy for her. And I am. This was a huge moment for her, seeing someone she loves to listen to, meeting other people, and expending a lot of energy. She’s going to sleep well tonight.
As we all will. We’re pooped.
