The London Blog

Posted on September 11, 2005

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My totally cool and utterly soulmatey friend J.C. and I went to London, Ontario yesterday to – of all things – go to a medical school party with her friend. It transpires that there is a longstanding Western Med tradition that the second years throw an orientation party for the first years, which the third years crash dressed in some sort of combat costume. Since J.C.’s friend is a third year, I very soon found myself in ninja black selecting from a neat pile of red sashes and belts and aluminum foil throwing stars and the like. If anyone at law school had the temerity to even think about throwing a costume party with a ninja theme there would be one guy with a headband around his head and 27 Jewish girls in short flared skirts. There would on no account be four people painstakingly dressed as teenage mutant ninja turtles with large plastic shells and everything.
We started the evening off at a backyard barbecue at the house of what turned out to be an Egyptian guy. As you might expect, the vast majority of med students are Asian, with the occasional white chick with a steely glint in her eye. They’re a lot less freaky than my ilk, on the whole. I was introduced to a Jamasian guy – an Asian guy from Jamaica. He spoke with a Jamaican accent obviously. Observing the juxtaposition J.C. turned to me and said “weird?” and I said “but coo!”. And then we giggled at our usual total synchronicity of thought. It’s actually pretty hot, an Asian guy with a Jamaican accent.
To my immense astonishment, the med students had prevailed on London transit to send a regular city transit bus to this Egyptian dude’s house, on a teeny side street, to pick us up for the raid, free of charge too. A nude parade of people complete with animals could not have prevailed on Toronto transit to diverge one inch out of their way. The advantages of living in a small town. We got on the bus where a girl announced that when we got there we were to form six neat lines and surround and storm the bar with a great roar, culminating on the dance floor where we would boogie to the strains of – naturally – “Kung Fu Fighting”. This announcement was met without the least opposition or even questions. A bunch of law students would simply have refused this travesty. At best, diagrams of different attack formations would have been proffered. There was much drunken giggling instead. We pulled up in what appeared to be an utterly dark and deserted spot. J.C. and I descended drunkenly in great alarm at finding ourselves in a veritable forest, we who wouldn’t know a tree if we saw one. We formed, of course, roughly three lines (which was pretty good, considering) and with a mighty scream, hurtled for about a mile towards a…barn. It turns out that it was a barn we were supposed to surround, not a bar. In another coup over city administration, Western Med had rented a barn in the Pioneer Village, also inconceivable in Toronto. We surged over bales of hay (it was a redneck theme for the other students) and sure enough, danced to Kung Fu fighting. Actually they surged,as we belatedly became aware that surging was really not a high heel type of activity. It was pretty good fun. Or it could have been the mechanized and long perfected outdoor drink making process that J.C. and I have mastered that made it fun.
So we danced the night away, the obliging DJ playing “Ignition” right when requested instead of never, like at law school events. Becoming aware that we were plastered at only 10:30, J.C. and found a countryman who naturally had some weed. At any party anywhere around the world there will be an Egyptian guy with some weed. At this point we became aware that we have never in our lives sat on bales of hay so we rushed over to them and joined a conversation with some neighbouring med students who weren’t at all boring, and who were clutching plastic pink pigs. The bales were comfy, by the way.
There was then an ass-shaking competition which J.C.’s friend won. Girl can shake better than the whole of the West Indies. Yet more detoured city buses pulled up and we went home, after an unfortunate altercation over some of the pink pigs. Apparently they were rented and under threat of violence this guy who wanted to take one home had to give it back.

Today I found myself tempted to eat at Taco Bell. It’s amazing how around every three months you feel like you want to eat there and then you do and it’s gross and you vow never to eat there again but regular as clockwork it fades and the cycle starts all over again. Even as I consciously thought this I continued to order. There was a Latino family next to me eating with evident enjoyment so…how bad could it be? My eye was caught by the unhygienic practices of the employees…fistfuls of lettuce crammed using their bare hands into tacos. I had words with the manager, who essentially maintained that I could call the health department if I liked. hmm..I’m pretty sure it’s illegal. But I figured, if we’re dumb enough to succumb to the Taco Bell Lure, we deserve to catch the hep.

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