Pole Dancing

For this political junkie elections are a blast

I love the hoopla.. the political discourse (I earned a degree in it you know), the anticipation, but most of all I love the hope inherent in every election as we collectively consider the state of our beloved Canada and exercise the actual power of democracy ...and vote.

For the last five federal elections I have had the privilege of helping to facilitate the vote by serving as Financial Officer for Elections Canada in the riding now known as Humber River Black Creek. (formally York West).

It's a whirlwind of organized chaos as our team, under the leadership of a very competent Returning Officer, hits the ground running to set up an office that is meant to; hire, train and then pay some eight hundred poll workers, secure fifty or so polling sites, make necessary changes to the elector list, register electors and candidates... not to mention organize and secure ballots and ballot boxes, as per the strict rules Election Canada imposes to insure electoral accuracy. ... all while dealing with the public....                          It really is an amazing operation that I am proud to be a part of.

Each election is it's own experience in a different location. This time it was at the Jane and Sheppard mall. The time flies and we go from wondering how we will utilize the space, to perfecting how we utilize the space, right around the time we have to deconstruct the space.

This time, with the length of the campaign, we literally went from some of the hottest days of the summer to having ice on our windshields in the morning... from having the air conditioning on to having to wear layers and use space heaters when the heat in the building failed to kick in...or some hot man had the door open.

An election is a welcome chunk of time when this country girl gets back in touch with her city roots in pursuit of a goal and to make some money... but only for as long as it takes to be completely frustrated with the commute... because I really don't know how people do that everyday.

The time leading up to the “event” is exciting .. there are deadlines to meet every day, but hiring and training eight hundred people is a little like herding cats and for some strange reason it's only as the event gets close that a considerable amount suddenly realize that it really is a job, and that for one reason or another they can't do it... and start dropping out..
Herein lies the crunch for us.. and somehow we manage it every time.

                      

The running joke is to be nice to Cindy because she makes sure you get paid, but the truth is that it runs much deeper than that when people come together with a common goal and a deadline (and the whole country is watching). You gel as a group.. you are in on the joke.. and you can't stop the train.

It always comes down to the teamwork.. the people ..the personalities.. the connections...to make it through the Event,  and this time was no exception. Ours was a job well done.. not withstanding box 419 and the garbage bag incident.. (I blame Elections Canada for inventing the carrying bag in the first place) and I look forward to when we meet to do it all over again.

                                                         

In the mean time I am glad for the internet platforms that have been invented since I started this gig that allow people to stay in touch with each other because that's the hardest part of the whole thing.. making the connections.. having the intense experience .. then having to walk away.

Stepping Over the Fine Line

  People don't expect to see a woman behind the wheel when they get into a taxi, so it's always fun to see a surprised reaction.  My favourite is.. “Wow you're the hottest cabbie I've ever seen”. (Not the highest bar ever set... especially by drunk people.. however...)This is often followed by “you must get hit on a lot?” To which I delight to reply with a smile.. “best part of my job”.  At my age, hidden by the  shade of my night shift, it's kind of true. Who doesn't like to be called beautiful, even if it's by an inebriated, testosterone charged, hipster dude..or country boy.. or medal head .. or business man ..or old guy..or chic?
   Other reactions are fun too because it's more often than not, concern for my safety, which always reinforces my faith in humankind and my belief that most people are good ...and nice. Women sometimes ask me if I'm ever scared .. and men never do..cuz that would be creepy. I tell them no because that is the truth. I am never scared and I couldn't do the job if I was. I reassure them that it is a small town, that I have a lot of repeat clientele, and for the most part I am in constant radio contact with my dispatcher. Then I tell them about my “bitch switch” and the confidence I have in my ability to deal with ever happens within the confines of this car, and they are usually satisfied. Almost everybody who gets out of my taxi wishes me safety.. because I'm right, most people ARE good and nice.
   Once in a while though someone steps over the line and I am tested by the Reaction Gods..
   One such night, I was dispatched to a country inn, in a snow storm, to pick up a group of guys going even further into the dark and snowy night. Normally this would be a good call but this night it was going to be a test of my ninja driving skills and feminist principles. They were successful, middle aged business guys that had been friends for many years,  on a “guys” kind of weekend, reconnecting. All of them were married except.. you guessed it “Shotgun”.  He was in from a northern town and going through an ugly divorce. He did not hesitate to make a move on me, egged on by his friends, because I guess that's just what you do when you come across a single woman, now that you find your own self single ..but it was lame and easily dismissed with a smile.  They were nice men and the most trouble I was going to get from this trip was going to be the road conditions which were horrific .. snow covered country roads accompanied by that kind of snow that flies at you making it difficult to see.. and stressful.
   They had been drinking and the conversation was loose from the start.. I was able to disappear for the most part, to concentrate on getting them home safely but it didn't stop me from listening.. The trip was all downhill from there though.. I mean literally and figuratively ..  and some pretty steep parts too. Shotgun would participate in the conversation with his friends and then retreat from it to engage with me for a while..  We exchanged incites about online dating.. Then he went back to his friends... You could tell he was newly single..  When we got near the bottom of the hill the conversation from him was hitting depths of its own.. did I really need to know that all men shave their nether regions now?  And I guess you know you're invisible as a woman when a man announces out loud to his friends, that all he wants is a “shaved box”.
   Yep..reduced to our genitalia, shaved to look prepubescent, is all this middle-aged, seemingly successful, respectable guy wants in a woman. Thank you Porn Culture, you are doing so much for humankind.
    We came to a stop at the bottom of the hill from hell which gave me an opportunity to look at him in the eye while I advised him to calm down. Suddenly I was no longer invisible.  Suddenly I was the eyes of all women getting a glimpse of uncensored male culture.  And they knew it. The back peddling, especially from from the backseat was voracious.. and I got a good tip.
      Another such time of line crossing in the feminist realm of my taxi cab happened with a young man  who is a regular customer. He is in his early twenties, and often flirts with me when intoxicated. This time, after we had made the money transaction, he leaned over to kiss me.. so I gave him my cheek. This was apparently not enough and he went for my lips.. I turned away and informed him of my no kissing policy ... then,  in what I could only interpreted as youthful exuberance, he reached over and put his hand on my right breast. It was the weirdest thing. He seemed to be trying to express affection  It crossed the line but I did not feel assaulted. (I think largely because of the ironclad construction of today's bra). He bowed to me as he walked away from my car. There was nothing a reasonable person could do but to let it go, so I did.
   That wasn't quite the end of this little episode though. You see the following night I happened to pick up at the very same address, three young men who were eager to hear funny taxi stories..  I told them a couple of my favourites before I remembered the previous evening and the fact that I had a funny story about a guy I picked up from that very same place... They guessed who it was immediately. I hesitated to tell them the story because I would be dropping him right in it, but they egged me on and I couldn't resist.  Of course they howled with amusement. And seeing as they were off to a party at which he would also be,  spent the rest of the trip planning ways to tease him. It was a very fun kind of revenge. Oh to have been a fly on the wall. ( For the record he was very apologetic the next time I saw him and thanked me profusely for not calling the police)
    There is a fine line we walk when we are in this service industry, deal with the public and depend on tips for our living. Good customer service depends on a human connection  But how much of ourselves should be revealed?  When is it a good time to just disappear? And where is the line over which we will not tolerate behaviour in the name of our own principles when we are dealing with intoxication in a world where most people are nice and good?

The 'Farer' Sex

  People who know me know that I am a card carrying feminist.  I spend a lot of time thinking about how the world would be a better place if the feminine came into it's own and was better reflected by society. I cringe when I see memes on the internet that are obviously misogynistic but that women have “lol”ed or “liked”. It bugs me when people say they hate working for a woman, as if working for one bitch was the same as working for all women....

  People roll their eyes behind my back.

   As a taxi driver though, I've had to accept equal opportunity in a whole new way with the realization that most of my wost experiences have been with the so called fairer sex.

   The only time that anyone has run away on me, for instance, was four pre-teen year girls I picked up at McDonalds at three in the morning. (Which should have been a clue in itself)  I was fairly green as a night driver at the time and did things that I would never do now.. like let all four of them sit in the back...and whisper,  and give no specific number when naming their street destination.  But ultimately my biggest mistake was my underestimating their capacity to be sneaky little thieves because they were pretty little girls. They disappeared like phantoms in the night which irked me more than the eleven dollars they ripped off me for.

     Speaking of thieves.. One of the weirdest calls I ever had went something like this. I was dispatched to a convenience store, in broad daylight, where a young woman got into the backseat and sat behind me.. this was already strange because half the people who get into my small town taxi alone, ride shotgun, rarely behind me where it is most difficult to communicate... (And where the other woman who drives won't let lone men sit at all)  ..  She directed me to a local park and off we went.. When we got there to my surprise she was suddenly incognito.  A hoodie with the the hood tied up, a scarf over her face, sunglasses, the whole bit.. She informed me that this would be a return.. she didn't get out. Two young men approached the car and I sat there while the young woman proceeded to sell them a stolen iphone..  Awkward Cabbie moment... (Don't mind the invisible adult.). When the deed was done I drove her back to the store while she transformed  to her innocent looking self.. She paid me with a twenty and didn't wait for change which left me with a pretty good tip and no real way to identify her if I ever wanted to.

     Speaking of tips... men are more generous... there I said it ..Except for women who work in the service industry..  because they know.  I guess it's because men have more money... and what can you do?  What pisses me off though is the people that expect something for nothing while they look down their nose at me for being a lowly Taxi driver.  Like this woman that lives at the high end adult building in town.  I was dispatched to the Metro store for a dreaded grocery run.. There she stood, about my age but out of shape and with an attitude..I popped the trunk and got out to help her with her bags, but to my surprise ended up doing it all myself while she got into the car.. The drive to her apartment is so short it could easily be walked. It ends up being six dollars including the three fifty drop fee, which she gave me to the penny.. no tip.. Then to my utter shock she got out of the car and began walking to the building somehow expecting me to carry her groceries.. Now it was her turn to be surprised because there are some things I just won't tolerate ..  lazy arrogance is one of them.. so I got out, removed her bags from my car, placing them gently on the pavement beside it, and drove away.. When I called in to clear with my dispatcher I simply said “expect a complaint”.. which is cabbie speak for asshole alert.

    Now I admit that the job isn't the most prestigious one on the planet, but here's how I know for sure. At the end of a shift, one weekend night I was dispatched to a small town to pick up people to take them to a bigger one even farther away. Our policy is to start the meter at the edge of our town when we aren't coming back to it,  to make it worth our while. So that is what I did. It's always a risk that the customer won't be there, so the farther you go to pick them up the bigger the loss of time and money if they aren't there.. In this case the dispatchers sent me to minimize risk because I live close...if I didn't get a fare I could just go home and if I did it was icing on the cake of an already good night. I was picking them up at the convenience store and they were indeed  there in all there shaggy glory. Obviously not from this particular town, the three slight men and one hard looking woman in grey baggy track pants got into my car.  The men seemed happy to be on their way but the woman was having nothing to do with the meter already running. Her belligerence was exceeded only by her exquisite sense of Saturday night style. I was forced to send the motley crew packing. This infuriated the fashionista and she spewed the most vile thing she could think of on her way out of my cab.. “Get a real job”

    The only fight I've ever seen for a Taxi was.. you guessed it... between women. It was just around last call at a local bar on a busy early fall night;  cool but apparently not enough to warrant jackets, which made people even more anxious for a cab.  I could see there was going to be an issue the second I pulled up, when more women than could fit in my cab began to approach.. Nothing like the look of drunk people approaching ones car..but that's another story.. In this one I quickly opened the passenger window to assure the mob that there was another taxi right behind me.. but to no avail. All doors swung open as representatives from both groups staked their claim on my car.  The situation quickly escalated into a slagging match.. Shotgun closed the door but the window was still open which made her extremely vulnerable to the sucker punch she was about to receive from the rather large woman coming her way...Bang right in the face..right in the eye!! The fight was on! Everybody jumped out and grown women physically fought for a Taxi.. It was truly ridiculous... Men came from the nearby patio to break them up... Someone threw a pitcher of beer...Some boyfriend closed my doors and apologized profusely  ..Other taxi's pulled in and everybody got a ride home.... I took shotgun and her friends.  There is no escape from the human energy within the confines of a taxicab. This trip was thick with spoken and unspoken regret.. They postured some but Shotgun cried when she imagined explaining her now developing black eye to her young son.

   I would normally rather stick pins in my eyes than call the police so I haven't ..ever.. except for once when I had to turn in a ... wait for it... woman! It was a winter Thursday night and I got dispatched to a local watering hole.. as I approached I could see a very intoxicated woman on the outside patio, sitting on a chair ..going nowhere without help.. and I said to myself, and then to my dispatcher “No way”, as I slowly pulled away from the front of the building. “Too intoxicated”.. “Don't blame you” another driver perked up, and I remember him commenting when he had dropped her off that he didn't think they'd let her in. And apparently they hadn't. Not my problem. Until a few minutes later when I got dispatched there again with the assurance that it was somebody else.. ya right. This time when I pulled up she was in the arms of a man that I knew.. A local party dude and hockey fan that likes me for my familiarity with a certain former Leaf..  He was being the good guy that he is trying to help the bouncers get her out when he offered to escort her home..or so I thought.. They put her in the back and he got in beside me. It was only then that I saw the blood dripping from a big bite hole in his bottom lip.. seems there may have been other things going on.. The bouncer said to put the ride on their account and bid us good riddance. I hit the meter and turned to ask where she lived. No answer.. incoherent babble.. then just plain belligerence.. This was clearly not  just alcohol.. It got old to me fast though, so I told her to either tell me where she lived or next stop was the police sitting across the street.. More belligerence. What else could I do?  The police were not impressed when I presented with a problem that required them getting out of their car..and they were even less impressed when they met her acquaintance. More belligerence and a little resistance and it wasn't long until she was on her way to her room for the night.


   The only time that I've been assaulted as a taxi driver was.. of course ..by a woman, in the form of a pretty viscous pull of the hair.. It was a lesson quickly learned about provoking the intoxicated, and she who poses the greater threat to me as a cabbie.  I had never realized before then that I am much more vulnerable to assault by a female than I am by a male who would probably think twice.. considering how pathetic it would look...

   Now you might be thinking that all my problems with women are because I am a woman, and to be honest, the thought has crossed my mind.  People say it out loud to me.  And to some extent it must be true. BUT a funny thing happened while I was contemplating this blog. I was in the laundry mat with this very pleasant older couple. The man couldn't help noticing that I was driving a taxi and immediately identified himself as a former driver so that we could swap stories and commiserate... as Taxi drivers are wont to do.  The very first thing he said about the subject was ..and I quote “The women are the worst eh?”

Run away Taxi

People bring baggage into a taxi; literally and figuratively. Sometimes I can tuck it into the trunk and forget about it but usually I have to deal with it up front. Sometimes I can see it coming and sometimes I can't.. This time I could see it coming from the second I pulled up to the house.

The door opened and stuff started to tumble out .. a couple of fabric bags stuffed with clothes, a binder and some books, shoes, shoe boxes and a couple more bags, all followed by a teenage girl fumbling with her coat. She carried as much as she could to the car while I scrambled to get the back door open in time. I offered her help but she refused. Her energy was swift and determined as she made the few awkward trips it took to get, what seemed to be, all her worldly goods into the backseat, and as it became abundantly clear to me that we were running away from home.

A man, my age, appeared at the door, said nothing, did not interrupt her work and quickly disappeared again... tough love I thought.

   It wasn't until the younger sister appeared on the scene, arriving home at the most inopportune time, that the curtain was pulled back on the intense emotions that were revolving around this situation. I was surprised at the disdain the younger sibling expressed toward the older one as she proceeded to make her parents case. Runaway girl did not indulge her sister, got into the front seat of my cab, and quietly told me where to go.

   One of the most interesting aspects of driving a taxi is the human energy that is impossible for me to escape in the small, dark space that is my cab. Often it is wild with celebration because much of our night time business comes from bars and parties, but it can also be calm with end of day satisfaction, quiet with foreplay, or intense with the debriefing of any kind of confrontational situation. This was that.

   When run-away girl got in it was intense as her determined energy dissolved into sadness and tears and there was no escaping it for me. She was obviously very upset and her tears quickly became mine. My policy for intense situations that are none of my business, is silence. This served me well as I struggled to stop and hide the tears that were now running down my face. And then she spoke... “I can't believe I just did that”.

   This changed everything and suddenly I was in.. and I didn't have much time. It turned out that she was leaving home to live with her boyfriend who, I was guessing her parents were not that thrilled about. The teenage girl in me was suddenly in conflict with the parent in me and I found myself walking a fine line. I could understand her need to break away from the control her parents were trying to exert over her emerging sexuality and I could understand the intense parental love that inspired their tough approach...They are just trying to protect you, I told her. They love you and they just want what's best for you even if it doesn't seem like it now. I know she said, they've brought me up right, I do well in school, I look after my sister and I do what they say .. I just can't take it anymore.

Just don't get pregnant, was my advice.. and she agreed not to as we pulled up to the address that she had given me. It warmed my heart that her boyfriend came out to welcome her with a hug, and that he was accompanied by others ready to help her with her stuff. He paid but before she got out run-away girl turned to me, looked into my red teary eyes with hers, smiled and said “thanks”.

I knew from what she had said that she was right... that her parents had raised her right, and that she was going to be fine.

Growing pains … emerging adulthood..

Real life in my taxi.

Blah blah blog

So blogging turned out to be exactly how I thought it would be… hard. Like writing a journal..start out all gung ho (totally writing it for public consumption of course) thinking I'll blog about this or I'll blog about that.. and then I don't. Or something happens in my real life that sends me for a wee loop, and that I would never be caught dead blogging or journaling about, so I do the oral version to only the closest of people and then boom a month or two has gone by and ...not a blog to be had.


After taking on Tiger I thought I would try the Sandra Bullock thing, but that got old fast..after all if it looks like dog and smells like a dog..umm it might just be a dog girlfriend... still the idea that you can be beautiful, talented, rich and famous and STILL get cheated on was somehow comforting to me..

Turns out I can't really write to a deadline either...... Started to write on the symbiosis I felt there might be with the fiftieth anniversary of the Pill falling on Mothers day... wanted to push the subject matter a little further to take the opportunity to warn my fellow Canadians about a fairly major shift to the right going on under the radar with many issues right now...not the least of which being access to safe, publicly funded abortions.... and don't be thinking those lax marijuana laws are anything you can count on in a world with privatized correctional services either... hiding behind “hard economic times” (I do a little puke in my mouth anytime I ever have to say that phrase)....BUT alas I started it on Mothers day and by the time I would have finished, I told myself, it would not have been Mothers day and thus not (as) relevant.

This brings me to the fact that I am a political animal and am going to have to go down that blogging road ... I have learned that I cannot blog about my art anymore than I can talk about it... doing so before execution risks taking the wind from the sail (or sale as it were), and doing so after is overkill ...so no more of that.. This does not preclude me however from continuing to blog about the studio and upcoming events... which then brings me to the fact that I am still going to have a show on the afternoon of twelfth of June and would like you to come to my Studio if you are in the GTA and so inclined. (see the invitation) It's not that I can't talk about the fact that I have almost kept up to the painting a week, it's that I better not say what any of them are ...or are going to be.... yikes I'm running out of time...

Having a show.. ... I mean talk about taking your clothes off in public.. there is/will be anxiety ..I was talking to another artist at her show not too long ago about this phenomenon of deciding to have a show and then suffering a steady stream of cold sweats of regret in the nights there after.. .but what the hell...Truth be known the gods have been speaking to me and what can I do but listen...They think I should have a show and have arranged all the stars to a line... the gods have been speaking to me a lot lately … and I am listening... and I am grateful for the company on this journey....the universe is a big place when you open yourself up to it... and try to blog.

Tigered Out

Personally I couldn't care less about who or what Tiger Woods “does”, but the media attention and hypocracy associated with it says something so pathetic about who we are as a culture, I could not let it pass without comment.

I was especially outraged by the comments made by the Augusta National Golf Chairman, Billy Payne who has the audacity to try to give Tiger a public spanking while reaping the huge financial rewards that will be a result of him playing at the Masters. “..It is not simply the degree of his conduct that is so egregious here;” he says “it is the fact that he disappointed all of us, and more important our kids and grandkids. Our hero did not live up to the expectations of the role model we saw for our children.” First of all, Billy, if Tigers' behaviour was so “egregious” why did you invite him to play at your tournament? Secondly Billy, Tiger is not a hero (defined as a man distinguished by exceptional courage and nobility and strength) nor a role model to me or my two sons, he is a golfer, period. And thirdly Billy, he didn't disappoint; he did exactly what rich and powerful men have been doing since the beginning of time. The assault was on his own wife and children and that is a private matter.

This brings us to the women involved. What the hell were they thinking? He's going to leave his wife and children for them? Not bloody likely. He is so handsome and irresistable they couldn't help themselves? Come on... they were in it for the fame and maybe money, and that is just as pathetic as him marrying someone, having children with her and then acting as if he is single.

I hate to say this, but from what I know of men, it is my opinion that 90% of them would do exactly the same thing, given the opportunity (sorry to the ones that wouldn't). And , in my opinion, it's just as much womens fault because THAT'S WHO THEY'RE DOING IT WITH. If women want men to be faithful to the family, as an institution, then we ought to make a commitment to each other and refuse to to do the dirty on each other ...I'm just saying.

And finally, it's about that Nike commercial ... the most telling thing about this whole episode... Tiger's dad giving him crap from the grave.. The most compelling arguement that the Tiger is, has been, and if Nike has anything to do with it, will always be nothing but a Brand. ( constructed from birth by his father). Which might very well explain why he got married when he clearly wanted to be single and which certainly explains why the little tiger wanted to be free.

My Little Piece of Paradise

Once enveloped by the Studio people comment on what a nice little space it is. They are seduced by Mother Nature flaunting herself all over the place, and if they are there to paint then they are already high on creativity.It's an easy sell.

The studio is in the Village of Belfountain in the beautiful hills of Caledon. A popular stop spot for day-trippers, especially those on motorcycles, but also in cars, on bicycles (I don't know how they do it... did I mention the hills?) and even on horseback. It has a funky coffee shop at the crossroads that is popular with both locals and visitors. Across the street is the current version of what was always known as the Belfountain General Store, that now sells food that is really good for you, and Smoothies! There is an antique shop a little walk from the corner and Credit Creek, a store with good stuff right there at the crossroad. Around the corner is the Belfountain Inn. It is a good food restraunt, that doubles as the local pub, and smells amazing everytime I walk by. Across the street and a little farther down the hill from the Inn is the Ice Cream Parlor and beside that is the very best thing about Belfountain, and the reason I know that the Inn smells good when one walks by and that is the Conservation area. It has a suspention bridge over a waterfall, a cave and a walking trail by the Credit River on the Niagra Escarpment; talk about Mother Nature flaunting herself.. don't forget to bring your camera!

If you are coming from Toronto and you take the 410 up to the end of it you will find that it now turns right into Hwy10 .. very cool and it takes several minutes off the drive to Belfountain. Take Hwy10 north to Old Base Line and make a left. A right at the first stop sign will take you into Inglewood which has an excellent general store where you can get excellent sandwiches among other things. But if you go there come back out the way you came in and continue going west on Old Base line so that you don't miss the Clay field on your left about 2km along. Stop for a walk around there, it is a beautiful place to take pictures. Beware of the red clay on your clothes though. Continue along Old Base Line to Mississauga road, make a right and proceed north until you bend into the Village. On your way out of town take the Forks of the Credit road it's a beautiful drive. Please if you are driving a motorcycle do not underestimate the danger of the roads around here. The hills and curves are very deceptive and there are fatalities every year.

There is so much more but for now I've talked myself into going for a walk in the park... stay tuned.