the daily snivel
Happy Annual Public Urination Day!
Yesterday was Canada Day, our national holiday that celebrates the anniversary of Confederation, when a collection of provinces and territories variously colonized and conquered by the British formed a sovereign nation with its own constitution and laws. Canada, as a federated country, is now 137 years old.
As I live in the Nation's Capital, Canada Day is an especially big to-do here. Over 75,000 people will fill the downtown area. We get a fabulous fireworks display, we can see the changing of the guards at Parliament Hill, the Prime Minister gives a speech, and there are all manner of free concerts and outdoor events all day long. I like the common friendliness that people exhibit -- no one is in a hurry and everyone is your friend, emblazoned as they are in red and white clothes, face paint, and temporary tattoos. One young woman I saw had even painted a Canada flag across her bared breasts and was walking about and flying it proudly. I'm not sure I'd have done that (for one thing, no one wants to see me with my shirt off -- they'd be blinded by my pale Irish skin) but it is legal in this fabulous province of ours, and it's certainly brave and festive. Meanwhile, it's a treat to see so many children who are excited to have festive colours on, eat ice cream, wave a noisemaker or a sparkler, and watch the fireworks. I remember being that young and I remember marveling at the spectacle every year.
But as the evening wears on, the alcohol and mob-mentality do take a toll. Once the fireworks are over, those tens of thousands of people start to head to bars, and others make no secret of openly drinking the booze they've been carrying with them. People smash bottles, urinate against buildings, statues, and trees, light up joints, get into fights, yell, and push. Someone was stabbed on Elgin Street in a fight in the wee hours of this morning (in a city where you can otherwise count the yearly number of homicides on your fingers). That's the part of Canada Day that depresses me. Most people do behave themselves marvelously, but in crowds so large, even a small fraction behaving like idiots can have a small and contagious effect.
Myself, I went out to a fondue party at a friend's house, and we went out in a group to watch the fireworks from a beautiful vantage point on the Ottawa River. I got to spend time with my friend Celeste, who I'd unfortunately been neglecting since the school year ended, which was swell. I didn't see everyone I hoped to see, but I made the most of a day off and didn't think about my clients, my case work, or anything related to work or school for more than a few minutes (which is pretty remarkable for me). We had some very nice Canadian beer (Steamwhistle Pilsner and Alexander Keith's India Pale Ale), got nibbled by some Canadian mosquitos, and watched the fireworks terrorize Canadian geese, which were resting in the water along with ducks and seagulls not far from the explosions.
On the other hand, I got the vantage point of the unruly crowds as I tried to make my way home, squished into a crowded bus of noisy, singing drunks who draped Canada flags over their shoulders like capes, and yelled and swore at each other as they stumbled around crowded city streets. I had to remind myself they were really in the minority, loud and obnoxious as their beer-fueled bravado was. People do like to have a good time, and I was among them, and there really wasn't much mayhem -- certainly not as much as there could have been.
I think at the end I'm of two minds. My old friend Jennifer (not to be confused with my law school friend Jenn who is in New York for the summer, and managed to celebrate in the East Village with beer and poutine with a fellow Canadian) wrote a rather grumpy entry in her blog about loathing the Canada Day events in Ottawa, which I tend to disagree with, even though I saw plenty of stuff that made me sad and grouchy myself yesterday. I guess the moral is that at least the trouble people get up to washes up fairly well and sobers up fairly well and there are no lasting scars or disgraces to the city that a little paint, sleep, and underwear couldn't quickly cover up.
As I live in the Nation's Capital, Canada Day is an especially big to-do here. Over 75,000 people will fill the downtown area. We get a fabulous fireworks display, we can see the changing of the guards at Parliament Hill, the Prime Minister gives a speech, and there are all manner of free concerts and outdoor events all day long. I like the common friendliness that people exhibit -- no one is in a hurry and everyone is your friend, emblazoned as they are in red and white clothes, face paint, and temporary tattoos. One young woman I saw had even painted a Canada flag across her bared breasts and was walking about and flying it proudly. I'm not sure I'd have done that (for one thing, no one wants to see me with my shirt off -- they'd be blinded by my pale Irish skin) but it is legal in this fabulous province of ours, and it's certainly brave and festive. Meanwhile, it's a treat to see so many children who are excited to have festive colours on, eat ice cream, wave a noisemaker or a sparkler, and watch the fireworks. I remember being that young and I remember marveling at the spectacle every year.
But as the evening wears on, the alcohol and mob-mentality do take a toll. Once the fireworks are over, those tens of thousands of people start to head to bars, and others make no secret of openly drinking the booze they've been carrying with them. People smash bottles, urinate against buildings, statues, and trees, light up joints, get into fights, yell, and push. Someone was stabbed on Elgin Street in a fight in the wee hours of this morning (in a city where you can otherwise count the yearly number of homicides on your fingers). That's the part of Canada Day that depresses me. Most people do behave themselves marvelously, but in crowds so large, even a small fraction behaving like idiots can have a small and contagious effect.
Myself, I went out to a fondue party at a friend's house, and we went out in a group to watch the fireworks from a beautiful vantage point on the Ottawa River. I got to spend time with my friend Celeste, who I'd unfortunately been neglecting since the school year ended, which was swell. I didn't see everyone I hoped to see, but I made the most of a day off and didn't think about my clients, my case work, or anything related to work or school for more than a few minutes (which is pretty remarkable for me). We had some very nice Canadian beer (Steamwhistle Pilsner and Alexander Keith's India Pale Ale), got nibbled by some Canadian mosquitos, and watched the fireworks terrorize Canadian geese, which were resting in the water along with ducks and seagulls not far from the explosions.
On the other hand, I got the vantage point of the unruly crowds as I tried to make my way home, squished into a crowded bus of noisy, singing drunks who draped Canada flags over their shoulders like capes, and yelled and swore at each other as they stumbled around crowded city streets. I had to remind myself they were really in the minority, loud and obnoxious as their beer-fueled bravado was. People do like to have a good time, and I was among them, and there really wasn't much mayhem -- certainly not as much as there could have been.
I think at the end I'm of two minds. My old friend Jennifer (not to be confused with my law school friend Jenn who is in New York for the summer, and managed to celebrate in the East Village with beer and poutine with a fellow Canadian) wrote a rather grumpy entry in her blog about loathing the Canada Day events in Ottawa, which I tend to disagree with, even though I saw plenty of stuff that made me sad and grouchy myself yesterday. I guess the moral is that at least the trouble people get up to washes up fairly well and sobers up fairly well and there are no lasting scars or disgraces to the city that a little paint, sleep, and underwear couldn't quickly cover up.
