It’s Saturday morning. Most people would describe their Saturday mornings the same way as they describe a visit to IHOP: slow-moving, waitresses with the smell of whiskey on their breath, and really bad food. While I’ve just spent another night sleeping on the floor.

Normally I wake up, do my daily routine of stretching and scratching, have a shower and stand in front of the window in my birthday suit. Welcoming each and every day the same way, as any normal person would do. Suddenly I notice there are 10,000 people standing outside my window. Not knowing if I should stand still and hope no one notices me, or move quickly to get out of the way. When out of my right ear I hear a loud cheer and followed by a bang. “Let’s go Blue Jays!” I was angry.

I honestly don’t know what it is about me. It’s almost as if I have this sign etched on my forehead that reads: ‘I attract large, awkward gatherings,’ and as of late, it doesn’t help where I live. Any newsworthy event in this city…yup, you got it. I’m involved. Any crowds, tourists, or potential riot, I’m there. It’s almost as if they see this lost, lonely guy walking on the street, and they think I want to party. While most of the time I try to avoid crowds, tourists, or any large gathering with more then three people (I seem to embarrass myself more frequently in conversation, then most people breathe.).

But just to give you some background. I’ve lived in Toronto for about 6 years, and have moved 14 times. I moved to the waterfront a year ago because there is this conception that it’s a barren wasteland. Bitter cold in the winter, and avoidable during the summer. So I thought it would be perfect for me.

The first couple of months were great because there was snow on the ground, and the American tourists avoid anything that doesn’t have a Starbucks next to it. So it felt like home. But then I started noticing a trend between the months of March and October: Tourists, lots of them. It seems every single tourist bus that comes into this city decides to park outside my window. Of all the places someone can spend their money, they decide to bother me on my day off.

A month ago it was a political protest. Imagine trying to watch The Notebook, and you’re about to shed a tear when 35 cop cars come barreling down the highway toward your front door.

Three weeks ago it was a wake up call at 6 in the morning to the sounds of ‘Jump on it,’ as 20,000 people went running across my lawn for the ‘Run for Israel.’

Bagpipes woke me up two weeks ago for the Firefighters Annual Picnic. Imagine trying to go through your day knowing you were snoring through ‘Amazing Grace’ at sunrise.

Last weekend it was a foghorn for the start of the Becel Heart and Stroke Bike Ride on the Gardner Expressway. Again, how do you go through your day knowing that 10,000 people got up and rode their bikes for a good cause, while you were sleeping?

I honestly came to the conclusion that everyone just wants to spend time with me. That’s why they stage all these events.

So I decided to go to the city’s website and look to see what I have in store for the coming weeks. I almost lost it. Between the 22 parades and BBQs, there is an Indy car race, an Air Show, Wakestock the annual Wakeboard festival, Virgin Music Festival, Luminato, Nuit Blanche, Fireworks Competition, Marathons, Pride, Caribana, the largest Caribbean festival in Canada, the Blue Jays, Buffalo Bills, Argonauts, Toronto FC, and The National Exhibition, and plus whatever happens at the Harbourfront Centre. I’m going to lose my mind. After last year, I still can’t figure out how it’s acceptable to be squirted in the nipple during Pride weekend. That I might just stay in doors this summer.

Which brings me to this past weekend, and guess what the city decides to do for me. ‘Let’s hold a street festival, right on my front door, and featuring a free Cirque de Soleil event all weekend.’ Oh goodie. I had to elbow a guy just to get to my front door.

(Not my video)

(Video from my couch)

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But oh wait…there’s more.

Saturday afternoon. It’s hot, just gone to Woofstock, and I decide to get my haircut. Seems as though my cheveux had gotten a little bit to long.

Walking towards Queen Street. I have a hand in my pocket. That’s not really important. When off in the distance I see a large gathering of people headed my way. I immediately thought about jaywalking, to get across the street before they came. When all of a sudden a friend I haven’t seen in a long time attaches themselves in front of my face. We start reminiscing, talking about old times. While at the same time as she is telling me about how their pet just died, 150 mostly middle-aged men starting riding past me. Naked. Some had daises covering their midriffs up, but it doesn’t really matter. They were naked. So I looked like the bad guy because I started looking the other way from my friend and her story. Trying not to laugh. While she goes into details of how hard it has been for her. I don’t care who you are, or how hard you try. You cannot have a sensible conversation when there are naked people riding bicycles in front of you.

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Click on the links to see the headaches out my window:
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View 1 ……………………………………….. View 2.

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Video showing future waterfront development on my porch

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Justin Zawyrucha’s other blog posts:
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