One of the reasons I’ve enjoyed doing the Friends For Life Bike Rally enough to give it a third whirl is that my ass looks like a 25-year-old’s by the time it’s done you get to see what a beautiful city and province we truly live in.  The actual 600 km ride takes you through some of the most stunning scenery, and even in training there are incredible sights to behold.

Even when you stay downtown to train.  Sunday morning at 6 a.m. I took off on my bike along the Don River, picking up a trail called Taylor Creek.  Given the early hour, the dawn sun sent light dappling through leaves, mist rose off the still waters, wildflowers were plentiful, and by the time my ride was over I’d seen four lovely small rabbits skipping through the bushes.  I also saw a massive raccoon the size of Ella, my Cocker Spaniel, skulking home like a club kid, some ducks, and a blood red cardinal flitting amongst the trees.

But it was on the way home that I saw the most breathtaking sight, that made me slow up on my bike as quietly as I could so not to disturb my luck.  A huge beast, a deer with antlers still growing, slowly making it’s way out of the bushes, crossing the path.  I was awestruck.  He saw me over his shoulder and he didn’t leave, just stared and I didn’t move either, just stared.  After several moments he lumbered on his way and after he was out of sight I got back to riding, shaking my head that I was seeing all of this in downtown Toronto.

Now contrast this with the latter part of my day.  Ages ago I was asked to judge The Drag Ball, at Buddies In Bad Times Theatre.  I love and admire drag queens and I like being in their frenetic, bitchy energy so I happily volunteered.  It was being put together by local drag queen Stephanie Stevens, and she gave me a call time of 6:15 p.m.

Now I know drag queens, and I know they never start on time, but 6:15 is 6:15 and that’s what time I arrived, for the advertised 7 pm start; it’s professional.  The audience started to arrive soon after, who had paid $40 a ticket to attend, and I met the other judges.  Seven o’clock came and went with no start, but again: drag queens.  

7:15.

7:30.

At 7:40 I overheard someone ask: “When is this thing going to start?”  A good question, given that the even was now 40 minutes behind schedule.  

“When they’re ready,” came the reply from a guy working for the event.

Uh-uh.  I’m a little on the stickler side when it comes to time, and I can discount the fairly retarded notion that for some reason drag queens don’t have to start when they say they will, but “when they are ready” takes it into what I call the “raised by wolves” realm, ie: utter rudeness.

You don’t charge people $40 and keep them waiting over 1/2 hour, and you don’t ask people like me to volunteer their time, give them a call time of 6:15 and have nothing close to a start by 7:40.

I split.

Good thing, too.  The next day Facebook was riddled with horror stories about the event.  For starters apparently Stephanie Stevens eventually took to the stage to announce the competing drag queens had staged “a mutiny” and only one drag queen was performing, so the night was now turned from a competition to a showcase.  PROUD FM playlister Nancy Rancourt went on a tirade on her FB page about not being paid for her performace per her contract.

I could go on, but you get the picture.  What bookends to my Sunday.

But at least I saw that deer.