I was told: "When you get out of the apartment building you're on Washmill Lake Drive. Go right, then left on Main Street."
I'm often impatient about waiting to go anywhere, so I decided to get a headstart on foot. "Please pick me up," I requested.
"Sure. We'll only be five minutes," said Marshall, our driver, who was going to take us to the popular Harbourfront in the downtown. I was skeptical about the punctuality. Anyway, a pleasant walk it was, though the sun was a bit much. I came to an end, or rather Bedford Highway in front of me. Now what? I called for further instructions. I wanted quality time for us to chant in public but the "five minute" time slot really was becoming stretched out.
I asked a Chinese student at the juncture, "Do you know what direction I take to get to the Harbourfront?"
"You take this bus..."
"Sorry, excuse me. I'm walking."
In disbelief, he responded, "No, you can't do that!" He was shaking his head in a jittery fashion.
"No worries. I walked Canada four times."
"Nooo,” he said with the ‘O’ elongated.
Another pedestrian guided me: "Take the Bedford Highway, then Windsor Street. That goes forever."
So I proceeded on, with no sign of my chanting monks. I passed by a cemetery where Titanic corpses were buried one hundred and seven years ago. Finally Marshall called.
"A little late?" I sarcastically breathed out. Three people—Marshall, Samuel and Angiras were letting me down. At least I was getting some walking in. I passed The Forum, then a funeral home. Finally the van with the three pulled up. "Sloths," I thought.
We got to the Harbourfront, unloaded our instruments and began chanting. It was busy. Near our chanting location was one of those displays (much like a sandwich board) with holes for poking your head through. It was used a lot. I looked to see. It was propped up with three holes in it for my team of sloths. "Let's take a picture of the three sloth monks."
Snap!
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