Bush Whacked

After I posted yesterday’s entry about not helping people, Paul and I set out to meet Todd at the OHIP office to renew our health cards. On the first subway car, a man asked me how to get to Eaton Centre. On the second subway car, a woman asked me how to get to Union Station. I was pleased to be able to help, but more importantly, thrilled that I seemed enough of a native that people would think to ask me for directions.

Last year, I kept putting off going to the OHIP office. I assumed it would be exactly like the California Department of Motor Vehicles, circa 1989, which is to say, a four hour wait capped off by failing the test. When we got in right away, I was surprised, then felt vindicated when we couldn’t get our health cards due to lack of documentation. When we went back again, it all went smoothly.

Last week, when I terrorized the poor OHIP clerk, who couldn’t renew our cards due to lack of documentation, I really didn’t want to go back. But the cards needed to be renewed, and so we schlepped to the ends of the earth once again, and although I barely squeaked by with a card (lacking a passport or an Ontario driver’s license, the clerk ended up very nicely bending the rules and using my bank card for proof of signature, I think because he could tell I was about to burst into tears) the experience was as quick and efficient as it had been the last three times.

Afterwards, we headed for the American Embassy to apply for Todd’s passport. We thought they closed at five, but as Todd found out when he ended up taking a taxi in his mad dash to get there, they’d closed an hour earlier. The security guard crept nervously towards the door and opened it a crack to ask what Todd wanted and seemed relieved when the problem was uncomplicated.

On the bus, Paul picked up a 24 Hours metro newspaper that someone had left behind. The front page featured a photo of a young man with a cut on his forehead, lying on the ground while eight police officers with machine guns surround him. The headline? “Bush Whacked”. Wishful thinking, if you ask me, and 24 Hours is the conservative metro paper.

Paul What’s this, Mama?

Sage George Bush came to Canada yesterday, and a lot of people came to protest his policies. Then… [reading article] the protesters started throwing things at the police, and this is a photo of the police getting really upset with this protester.

Paul Why did he come to Canada?

Sage He wanted to get people to believe in his horrible policies, to support his presidency.

Paul I wish George Bush would just make friends with people. Then they wouldn’t be so mad.

Sage [sighs] So do I. But that would mean he’d have to change what he believes in and I don’t think that will happen.

Paul What do you mean?

Sage Well…you know how you have trouble being friends with Mikey?

Paul Yeah…

Sage And it’s because he keeps doing things you ask him not to do, right?

Paul Yeah…

Sage George Bush is like that. He just keeps pushing, and pushing, and doing nastier and nastier things, and so no one wants to be friends with him.

At this point, I was inwardly congratulating myself for the current events lesson Paul was receiving without even knowing it. Except even I had to admit it was just a teensy bit skewed. Hee.

Random Guy Also, he’s really dishonest.

Sage Exactly!

Random Guy You know, my mom and dad moved to the States, they live in Oklahoma, and they’re all rah rah Bush, and I just can’t understand it.

Sage You and me both.

And then we had a lovely chat about Canada and how fantastic it is, and how scary Bush is, and as he got off the bus…

Sage Have a good visit in Oklahoma next week!

Random Guy Have a great life in our country!