screaming on the street
the journal of Michael Werneburg
twenty-seven years and one million words
I had an unexpected experience today that saw me screaming at strangers on the street.
It was in the Beaches, where the great weather has brought out the crowds from across the city. As I was waiting at Woodbine and Queen, an ambulance came blaring west-bound in the east-bound lane. It had its turn signal on, and slowed to make a turn onto Lakeshore.
Where two dough-heads where insisting on stopping, shaking hands, and greeting each other as the ambulance approached. After about ten seconds, at which point the ambulance was stopped with horn and sirens wailing, I screamed at them to move.
They did. But one of the guys told me, "I wanted to greet my friend!"
A third fellow told me, "Put your .. helmet on." As I looked at him incredulously, he added, "Grow up!"
"It's a fucking ambulance!" I bellowed, and moved ahead as the light turned green watching them shrink back from the curb.
I was reminded of something I was told fifteen years ago by a friend who lived in the Beaches (when I lived down town). Apparently the vendors used to have shirts that read, "Welcome to the Beaches. Now get the hell out."