Monday, May 25, 2009

He who knows syphilis, knows medicine

I always arrive 15 minutes early for class. It's a buffer zone I provide myself for a number of good reasons:
  1. Out of habit
  2. A few minutes can make a big difference in terms of traffic
  3. I have a long commute, and should the TTC decide to choke and die (which it frequently does), I need time to reroute myself
  4. My vindictive British anatomy prof scarred me for life
That is, I'm always 15 minutes early for class except when I have an exam. You see, on exam days, Big Red telephones the Big Guy Upstairs and says, "It's exam day. Can I mess with Andy just a little? Or will that cause you to strike me down with lightning?" An affirmative grunt later and away we go. Without fail, exam day is heart attack day, and that's not just from exam stress (of which I have plenty).

I've seen a lot of close calls - from subway delays to traffic jams - and today was no exception. One the way to the subway station, my mom was trapped behind a recklessly sluggish delivery truck making perhaps 20 km/h. Finally, after what seemed like eternity, the truck turned away, freeing up the path before us. Lo and behold, the truck was not following tardy traffic but rather holding it up, and ahead lay a gorgeous straight of free road. My mother, being the measured driver that she is, grumbled something unkind about the truck driver then put the pedal to the metal... only to be quickly ground to a halt by a police officer neatly tucked away on a nearby side street. Damn you, Big Red. (Wait, that's a bit redundant, now isn't it?)

"You were going 67 km/h in a 50 zone," the officer said. "Any reason you were in a hurry?"

"I have an exam," I groaned from the passenger side. I've been told that a hospital badge can do wondrous things when you're pulled over for police. Allegedly, it has something to do with the fact that wounded officers get treated by these magical pixies called doctors. I momentarily wrangled with the idea of exhibiting my ID, but decided to avoid sliding down the slippery slope of power abuse before even being conferred the honour of an MD (apparently our dear Sandoval, however, has already found occasion on which to put this rumour to the test). Instead, I got out of the car and caught a bus to Finch Station.

Having already lost 10 minutes of my extended exam buffer time (I leave even earlier than usual for just such contingencies), I boarded a subway train bound for school. Incredulously enough, it decided to chug along at some 10 km/h for the duration between Finch and North York Centre (two stations that are respectably far apart). I was seriously afraid that my encounter with the police was to be compounded by a subway delay. Luckily, all my heart palpitations came to naught, as the subway sped along after reaching the second station. Just to be safe, I exited at Wellesley station and cut across to University Avenue on foot, incidentally meeting Mello along the way. I think this was the Big Guy Upstairs' way of assuring me that my potential tardiness had all been some cosmic joke and that I was not, in fact, late.

Meanwhile, my mother received not one but two tickets - one for speeding and one for having a photocopy of the ownership in the car. While the officer insisted that an original is required, I am assured that this has never before been a problem since the beginning of time. In fact, the officer was kind enough to tell my mother (in all earnestness) that she should fight the ticket and was kind enough to provide her with the nearest office at which she could book a court date. This all, of course, left my mother with the bitter aftertaste that she had been had - the victim of a police officer who wanted to meet his quotas and finish off his 9 AM shift. She was also aggravated by the recognition that demerit points can only be awarded for speeds in excess of 15 km/h and was deeply convinced that her 17 km/h judgement was an miscarriage of the truth. Because I inheritied my angsty constitution from my mother, it was no surprise to me that she spent the remainder of the day agonizing over her encounter with this jerkish Scarlem police officer. For my part, I considered the huge waste of tax dollars that would be exhausted on sending this case to court and mentally chastised the irresponsible officer who himself awarded a ticket (or two) that he sincerely thought would (and ought to) be thrown out.

My exam was harder than I thought it would be, but afterwards my friends and I headed over to Fran's Restaurant at Yonge and College for lunch. Fran's, like Denny's, is a comfy, all-day-breakfast, open-24-hours eatery with mediocre cooking but enormous portions.

After downing 3 grease-laden sausages, a number of scrambled eggs, and a passable proportion of my homefries, I felt rather full. My friend Kaiba, on the other hand, had finished eating his similarly sized meal and was still roaring to go. Apparently, he has quite the reputation as a hefty eater despite his relatively slim Asian appearance.

I decided to offer, then, the remainder of my homefries, my one remaining sausage, and four half-slices of toast in Kaiba's direction. Surprisingly, he obliged. Not only did he manage to finish the rest of my food but also cleaned off Ting's enourmous poutine (which she had shared with another male colleague, and the two of them together had been unable to finish it) and a handful of scraps from others around the table. I was thoroughly impressed and commented that perhaps Kaiba had missed his true calling by going into medicine. He should have started his own one-man-show.

Satiated, we returned to class for another four hours of post-exam lecture where we learned about seizures, memory loss, and of course, neurosyphilis. He who knows syphilis, knows medicine... or so they say.

3 comments:

brutalturtle.blogspot.com said...

Kevin likes this post.

Kevin has an original ownership document inside the car as a photocopy is not allowed. When pulled over this was presented.

Kevin is sorry your mother got two tickets. He would've preferred that she get one for making a rolling stop at finch station one fine Thursday and cutting Kevin off rather than being held up while you had exams :)! Just kidding. More things to do pain in the butt. She will win in court. Kevin can represent her, he is a graduate of Canadian law 3135 ahahahah.

Yubin said...

So Andy, here is my story.

This morning, I left home to take TTC at around 8: 45 am.
I was stuck at Runnymede station for 20 minutes because of delay at Lansdowne station.
Apparently it was a mechanical problem..!
About 9: 20 the train finally starts moving again.
Then the train stops at Ossington station because of a sudden emergency at Christie station.
It is now about 9: 30.
I panic, go outside, in time to see three firetrucks zooming by to
Christie station.
I decide to take a taxi to school, but they are all full.
I panic even further as I start running towards Christie station.
I then remember that a church member lives at Christie, so I call my parents to call them to maybe give me a ride to school.
They call them and I finally get a ride to school.
It is now 9: 45.
There is some traffic on College station, but I finally arrive at school.
I arrive at 9: 55 with five minutes to spare to go to the washroom.

For the final BRB exam, I am not taking TTC.
Well, it wouldn't matter since the exam is at 1pm.
But still!!

It was a quite an eventful trip to school.
Similar to yours, but mine was cheaper i guess.

sandlot said...

So did you end up making your exam on time?

I've always wondered if commuters were late for an exam due to a train breaking down (or somebody who jumps a track...), will they be given extra time to write their exam?

I love frans! It's so good, especially at 4am after a night out. haha. Another really good breakfast place is the restaurant across from lee's palace/dance cave. I forget what it's called, but it's very good! Ahh.. i want breakfast food now!