 |
| Salt and pepper in light bulbs? Genius. |
Since the beginning of time (slight exageration), I have been dying (again, slight exageration), to go to Ottawa's The Works Burger. I didn't know anything about it, other than it's not in the Downtown area and it sells burgers, but I just knew of the legend of The Works.
Well friends, on Friday night, I got to go to The Works. Myself, Gabby, Claire, Amy and Lydia got to experience the actual joy of waiting ages in the freezing cold for a bus to come along. Our resident Canadians, Claire and Amy, did warn us that public transport in Canada is a bit of a nuisance. But that's ok, that means it's just like home...In the time we waited, supposedly three buses should have arrived, and we did consider sacking off the standing around in the cold and just walking to The Works. With hindsight, I really really wish we had gone for that option.
After my first experience with Canadian buses, I sincerely hope that it shall be my last. Once the bus arrived, then did the problems begin. Firstly, the bus driver doesn't take your money, you just have to drop it into a box with a small slit. This means that if you don't have any change on you - you can guess where this is going - you lose all your money because you're screwed if you've not put in exactly $3.30. Well that's $1.70 I'm never going to get back. As I tearfully (not as slight an exageration as earlier), parted with my crisp $5, the bus journey went from bad to worse and the malevolent bus driver jerkily drove off whilst I was still trying to get to my seat.
The worse was yet to come.
We shouldn't have had the Canadians sit behind us. Not only did we not realise it was our stop, to be fair, they didn't tell us, but then as everybody else saw the side door to the bus and got off there, I went for the front door. Then the doors slammed shut. The rest is a bit of a blur, but I am reliably informed that I then hammered on the door, yelling "you need to let me off the bus!" This went on for an agonising five minutes. And all that time, I just kept hammering and crying, "let me off the bus!" Finally, she let me off the bus. All of my "friends" found the whole thing hilarious. I beg to differ. It was traumatising and now, even the sight of an OC Transpo bus in the distance sparks a panic attack. The experience will haunt me until the day I die.
 |
| Best name ever for a salad. |
Fortunately, The Works made everything better. Ordering at The Works is an overwhelming experience. There are five steps: meat, filling, side, bread and extras. If you're interested, I went for chicken, Ho Hum #5, brocoli, wholeweat and no extras. Kudos to whoever wrote the menu for giving everything pun-tastic names, such as the salad side: leafing on a jet plane. Someone give that person a job in TV.
Other great parts about The Works include drinks served in measuring jobs. It's a somewhat unnerving experience, drinking Diet Coke out of the same kind of jug which your mum makes gravy in. Our server was enchanted by my English accent and we had a little chat about Tunbridge Wells. We even shared some banter about how snobbish people from that place are. (Not you, Jess Maunder, you're a wonder.)
 |
| Soon to be added to! |
As we finished our meal, my heart started to race, and my palms secreted more sweat than an X Factor contestant excretes tears. The bus ride was imminent. However, my mental wellbeing was saved by Amy who suggested we go for gelato, which meant we got to avoid the bus. The gelato place was what I imagine Heaven to be like: white, clean and with a lot of chocolate strawberry gelato. There were so many different flavours - seriously, Canada, what is with the peanut butter gelato? But I have an addition to Rose's strawberry dreams, hence the decision to go for chocoalte strawberry. It was the best decision I have ever made, second only to the decision to go to Canada. And it more than made up for the earlier trauma of the evening with the bus.
The problem with the gelato was the resulting sugar high. And the fact that it sparked off the hiccoughs, which everyone else found hilarious as my hiccoughs resemble the noise made my frogs near loudspeakers. As we crossed a bridge over the Rideau Canal to head back onto campus, I had to let out an audible gasp at the beauty of Ottawa at night. Attached to the bridge were lots of padlocks, mainly locked there by couples, and quite a few of them were engraved with names and love hearts. Right there and then, Team Exeter resolved to leave one there at the end of the year, to attach ourselves to Ottawa forever.
Thank goodness I was let off the bus.
No comments:
Post a Comment