The Outsider: Right on queue
|By Will Jones - The Outsider | Dec. 13, 2018|
Brits are renowned for being able to queue; to stand in line and wait for something, in an orderly fashion. I don’t know why they are renowned for this but I’ve heard it said before and Google backs me up, so it must be true. That said, so are Canadians. I know because I experienced more than my fair share of queuing last weekend. Serves me right really, for going to the city.
My lovely wife wanted to go to the Toronto Christmas Market in the Distillery District. She knew she was onto a winner when she told me where it was ... the Distillery District. “I’m in!” I bellowed and off we set.
It wasn’t until we hit the 401 that I regretted my initial excitement. We hit a rather long queue of cars, a traffic jam, if you will. However, everyone in said ‘jam’ was in good spirits and we queued in our cars very orderly, very slowly until for some reason we will never know there was not a queue any longer.
Once in the city we headed to my favourite bar, and had to queue to get in, on a Saturday lunchtime. But the wait was worth it and Little Z ordered tapas (little plates of wonderful food) for us. Smoked mackerel, jamon croquetas (potato, ham, cheesy balls), and the most delicious duck hearts with dates wrapped in bacon to name but a few. I’d queue for hours to eat in this joint.
Then onto the hotel and a rowdier check-in queue. Tis noted however that the guests trying to jump said queue were not British nor Canadian, and, they were summarily sent to the back by the Canadian concierge. Serves them right for not queuing with proper stoic dignity.
It was nice to get to the room and take the weight off my queue-weary feet for a minute or two. But not forgetting why we were in the city, a cab was ordered and off we went to the Christmas market.
As we neared the Distillery District my mouth began to water but my eyes began to bulge, too. There were people everywhere. Hundreds, no thousands of them and they were queuing. The line stretched for more than a block and we had not driven to the venue yet. When we arrived, we were told to join another queue to buy tickets before we could join the big queue to get into the market – a queue to buy tickets for a queue no less. We did as we were told.
Twenty minutes later, we had our tickets and marched solemnly to the end of the queue for the market. It took a full five minutes to get there, to the end of the queue that is, and I was beginning to have my doubts. But Christmas time it is and a jolly elf pranced along to us and handed out reindeer noses. I should stress that these were not tasty delicacies like the duck hearts, albeit I’ll try anything once, but red sponge balls, which tasted rather bland but looked quite comical when worn with a weary queue addled smile. Noses donned we and our fellow queuers edged our way into the Christmas market, only to be met by a myriad queues for the waffles, french fries, ferris wheel, photo booth, even the much longed for distilled beverages.
No matter, we queued like true Brits, and Canadians, made new queue buddies even and enjoyed every minute of it.
WILL JONES - is The Outsider