|GAGE PARK, BRAMPTON |
(Or maybe I was sleeping and dreamed that Brampton actually looks like this.)
It is no secret that I loathe the city of Brampton. That in fact when someone says the words "City of Brampton," my ears hear "pustule-encrusted tainthole of the GTA." The sprawling upchuck of the 'burbs, the barren meanness of its strip malls...oh, I could go on and on, but you'd only say "Well why the f*ck do you live there then?" Because. Um. Because I ... OH BUGGER OFF! Actually, I moved here to be closer to family and to work and because I found a townhouse whose location tricked me into thinking Brampton was pretty. (Now I know how drunk guys feel when they think they've picked up the hottest chick in the bar and wake up to find they may have impregnated Carrot Top.)
So imagine my confusion the other night when I got off the bus from work a few stops early so I could enjoy a stroll home. I turned a corner, stumbled onto this picturesque scene, and flew into a panic. Skating? Happy laughter? Starry lights twinkling in postcard-pretty park? "SHIT! I got off in the wrong city! Where the hell am I?"
This momentary panic was eased when, as I began to cross the street, I saw a deeply inebriated citizen lurch off the sidewalk and round a corner, where the ensuing sounds made it clear he was thoroughly relieving himself. "Whew," I thought. "I'm in Brampton. Cool."