Note: This post is off-topic from the normal living in Colorado stories.
After we made it to the hotel through paper map and navigating by the North Star (just kidding), I thought things would get better.
That was until a conversation with Verizon Wireless.
“We can’t provide you cell service in Canada because you don’t have Travel Pass on your account.”
“Well, how do I add it?”
“You have the wrong account. You need an Unlimited account, and yours is bundled with your land line.”
“Well, how do I unbundle it?”
“You’ll have to call Centurylink to do that.”
Of course, when I called Centurylink, I got the following message:
“Our offices are closed. We are open Monday – Friday, 8 a.m. to 5 p.m. Pacific Standard Time.”
Still, I didn’t despair. We could use the hotel wi-fi to look up the directions in advance, write them down, and still get to our destination, the Hockey Hall of Fame.
Not mentally or navigationally equipped to drive, we decided to take the subway. Our first problem came when trying to find the station.
“The directions say turn on St. Albans, and then go left.”
All that did was lead us straight into the railroad tracks. After ten more minutes of driving in circles, I finally decided to use sheer intuition.
“The parking lot is south of the station, just take a right and another right, and hopefully we’ll run into it.”
Driving through the suburban neighborhood of small brick houses, I had my doubts.
“There it is!”
Ok, one problem solved. Now the rest would be easy, just get on the train, change trains at the tenth stop, and get off at the designated stop I wrote on my slip of paper.
Until, when I looked up at the system map and realized the stop Google Maps had us going to, was nowhere near the Hockey Hall of Fame.
“That’s way out by the airport. We’re on the wrong train. We need to get off now!”
People were walking briskly along the platform. All these Canadians knew exactly where they were going. Who knew there were this many people riding trains on a Saturday in Toronto? Who knew there were this many people in Toronto?
We couldn’t find any maps. And had no idea where we were or which train to take. We looked at racks of travel guides that had coupons, but no maps. I sighed, realizing we would have to do the unthinkable.
“Bryon, we’re going to have to ask someone for directions.”
There was a young man staffing the candy counter. He looked promising.
“Excuse me, we’re trying to get to the Hockey Hall of Fame, can you help us? I think it’s at 30 Yonge Street.”
He gave us a sideways glance. I could just hear what his brain was saying. What’s wrong with these people? Don’t they have a Smartphone?
He pulled out his own iPhone, punched in the address.
“You need to take the #1 line south to the King Street stop.”
“Thanks so much!”
By the time, I got off the train, we were smack in the middle of downtown with skyscraper rising all around us. I felt so turned around, I wasn’t sure which way was south, north, east or west.
“I think it’s this way, inside this mall” Bryon cheerfully volunteered.
We spied a sign with arrows pointing, “Hockey Hall of Fame”. But then all I saw were stores.
“There! It’s down the escalator.”
Finally, displays of hockey jerseys, old photos, sticks and pucks. Our long, cyber-free journey had finally come to an end.
