Due to schedule conflicts, last year's Wonderland trip had been scrapped and replaced with CNE (832). For this year's run, the group collectively agreed on Perkopolis Day. Beyond being amongst the first to experience the amusement park's public re-opening for the summer season, it also included the added benefit of a discounted ticket.
​
Leading up to the weekend, the forecast had been dreary. Precipitation was expected, prompting one of our party members to recall our equally overcast 2021 visit, joking that I was the cause for poor climate conditions.

Yukon Striker was my suggestion - Why not start strong? The wait was a mere thirty minutes - a shocking reduction from the first year of operation.

​I had initially proposed riding it a second time, but the queue had lengthened when we exited the platform. We detoured to the Behemoth instead, as the classic coaster was often known to have the longest lineup. ​But, this time, our wait didn't even exceed one hour.

​The sleepy polar bear voiced concerns of nausea after these first two rollercoasters, thus retreated to the sidelines while we continued queuing. My memories of the Backlot Stunt Coaster were vague, but riding it again assured me that no future visits would be made; constantly banging into the side of the cart was far from my idea of enjoyable.

​More than the broadly advocated sense of fear, I find transitions to be annoying. Tedious yet stressful, like housework with a deadline.

Beyond transferring work responsibilities are arrangements that need to take place in the personal realm. I wouldn't be able to relish in the luxury of COVID carryover vacation days any longer, nor wield my massage and paramedical benefits at will.
In true me nature, I repurposed my limited days off to maximize these pre-existing benefits. The first appointment led me to Markham, which enabled lunch in the vicinity.

Revisiting Cafe de Hong Kong on a weekday morning had its perks. Despite the waitlist informing of a supposed 48 minute-plus wait, we were seated exceptionally quickly. The line that had once filled the waiting area had also dissipated in under twenty minutes.

The same crew from the weekend shift was present, and possibly a few more members of staff. Similar observations were mad as the previous visit: courteous, speedy staff, a constant inward flow of customers, clean menus and tables, and well-kept bathroom facilities. Weekday afternoon crowds comprised mainly of mother-child duos and groups of elderly, supplemented by a few badge-donning office workers on lunch break.

View the full album HERE !

​Looking to revisit the splendid egg scramble from my first visit, I initially decided on 214 Thick Egg Sandwich, requesting for the addition of SPAM due to the order's innately vegetarian properties. The waitress, however, pointed out that the option underneath already included a choice of ham or SPAM, and was merely a loonie more. My only concern was that the egg wouldn't be "thick" and runny. However, the reveal was, ultimately, more than satisfactory.

Counts of stomach flu, sniffles, and general illness have been obscenely high over the past month, and I'm not sure that I could tolerate another round of such trauma.

The slow recovery commenced with re-introducing coffee as part of my morning routine (no milk yet) and gradually transitioning back to solid food for strength and nutrition. For the first five days, I had little to no appetite, even when confronted with the sight - or smell - of food. Coaxing sustenance into the body was another challenge I never knew to be possible, for, just one bite in, I'd suffer resistance to the intake. It mattered not whether the food was liquid or solid at that point.

My body felt fine to move, though. I took to dusting and hosing off my car mats, as the scene of dried muck on clean carpet had riled up even me, the least car-conscious creature on this planet.

In fact, I began itching to return to my regular exercise program by the arrival of the weekend. Alas, weakness in the limbs and overall nausea prevailed. I perspired not a single drop while working through my regular roster of Well + Good and a Taylor Tone barre series.

The doctor advised further re-hydration with electrolyte beverages and increasing my potassium intake through natural sources such as bananas, potatoes, and also yogurt. Probiotics were, as expected, recommended for improved gut health.
"Ease back into exercise slowly" she cautioned.

​When evening neared, I grew slightly worried, partially expecting to go into class feeling the same degree of frigidity and nausea as I did the day before. Thankfully, the experience proved me more resilient than expected.

​I arrived early this time, with just enough leeway to catch the end of an earlier semi-private class and observe the fluffy white clouds against a beaming, blue evening sky.

It was at least late January when I had been informed of orderlyblue's intent to visit Ontario. Being the meticulous planner that she is, the itinerary was confirmed to me at least a month in advance. Upon nearing her two-week cross-border stay, meetup plans were finalized for the morning of her departure.

A traumatizing Wednesday had thankfully been met with a somewhat speedy recovery, albeit not to my usual capacity. I awoke to rumbling in the abdomen and a churning stomach; the mild pains transformed into diarrhea - repetitive counts actually. While I had regained the ability to form sentences and operate a motor vehicle, physical health had not returned.
I managed ingestion of Salted Pork Congee and a small banana before departing, willing myself to be freed of any unforeseen digestive issues over the hour-long commute.

Precipitation was anticipated for the bulk of the day, with a heavy downpour accompanying me into Toronto. The address provided to me was for a new condominium complex near Fairview, which meant unfinished streetscaping and unsigned inter-condo roads. For reasons beyond me, the duo - orderlyblue and a 99-liner whom she had established a recent friendship with - opted to traverse through a sod-filled planter to my vehicle instead of navigating along the adjacent muck-free, concrete walkway. Attempts to brush off the mud were in vain, and the floor mats (and carpet!!) would now be stained with dampened sod.

From the pickup point, a twenty-ish minute commute would ensue. The first destination of the day was Cafe Landwer.
Visiting on a Saturday morning with a tight timeline was absolutely frazzling. Reservations were permitted neither via OpenTable nor the Yelp waitlist during peak times, so I had merely hoped for the best (in that weather conditions would deter like-minded brunchers) and pulled up outside the restaurant for a waitlist check. Amazingly, I was informed that was no wait at all!

While the two non-natives slid themselves into a booth, I rounded about the building into the parking garage. Interestingly, the parking pass now expires on the same day of issuance at 11:59 pm, rather than the following morning, as it did in fall 2021.
When I eventually made it into the restaurant, the interior was found to be absolutely bustling, with all seating observed as occupied. Verifying my understanding with the West Coast duo, I learned that crowds had quickly flooded inwards after our arrival.  We had just made it in the nick of time!

Skimming the offerings on the laminated menus laid before me, I was again overwhelmed with the same sense of disinterest experienced the previous evening while looking at the web version. There was no appetite to be found, and only a sense of foreboding should I dare challenge my unstable digestive system.

Both the waitress and myself had recommended the Shakshukas, though neither appeared visibly curious about the chain's signature dish.
"I'm not really a fan of tomato sauce." the 99-liner admitted. She opted instead for the Eggs Benedict Florentine, remarkably the first item to be listed under the "Breakfast" header. Meanwhile, orderlyblue took to the Farmer's Breakfast.

​Our entry into the space had been made around the 11 AM mark, with all members of party congregating by 11:15 AM. Orders were taken with swiftness, yet sustenance was nowhere to be witnessed until long after 11:39 AM.

The Farmer's Breakfast was gargantuan: two sunny-side up eggs and a (presumably) vinaigrette-tossed cucumber-tomato-red-cabbage salad laid on top of a sizable crispy pita. Tahini and labaneh were served in separate condiment dishes for dipping and/or smearing.

My eyes had widened at the portion size of the dish, however orderlyblue appeared unfazed, gradually depleting the entirety of the spread - minus the pita. The golden runniness of the yolks were an aspect to marvel at, along with the occasional bites of pita and tahini. "It tastes healthy, and refreshing!" She remarked, while digging into the chopped salad.

​Meanwhile, the Eggs Benedict Florentine was comparatively normal in stature. Presented on a quaint, vintage-looking rimmed plate, its constituents included two poached eggs with baby spinach over grill-pressed challah - no English muffins here! - and a roasted, smashed potatoes. (Technically, the menu description reads as "crushed potatoes", though "smashed" is likely more fitting due to their overall intactness and single, lengthwise incision for improved surface area.
The 99-liner ate almost silently, thus I barely caught sight of the cross-section of the eggs before their elimination. On the contrary, she worked through the potatoes with sluggishness. It wasn't until nearing the end of the meal that I noticed she had peeled away the skin and brushed out the insides for consumption.

In-office days are known to interrupt my weekly happenings. A five-day period exempt of travelling into Toronto is truly a blessing, though the opportunity often emerges out of illness.

Later that evening, I would venture to the Oakville/Mississauga boundary. A five-week Beginner Reformer session awaited me at The Pilates Body.

The class spanned just seven participants, as it was limited to the number of Reformers available in the space. Upon arrival, we were instructed to remove our shoes by the entrance (maybe I ought bring slippers next time?) and complete double-sided intake forms. The first side asked of medical history and past injuries, while the back fitness goals and existing workout routines.

The group class space was fitted with seven Reformers with towers, a basket of props, and even Chairs along the edges of the wall. This was a surprising observation, for the standard group class was normally limited to Reformer use only, while semi-private and private classes explored an extensive collection of equipment. Beyond the group class space was a separate room containing the Cadillac and Barrel. An accessible bathroom and office space was also found in this room, along with a back entrance to the green space shared between all units of the building. Being relatively new, the studio was incredibly pristine and well kept. The walls and ceilings were a spotless white, while the back room still boasted a relatively new smell.

Once settled, our instructor commenced with a lengthy introduction on the Reformer itself. Different from Sum Pilates and Studio Bon, students were introduced to the varying stopper settings based on height and/or leg length. The second position was recommended for those between the heights of 5' 2" to 5' 7", unless one required more space due to leg length, in which case the stopper would be moved into the next (third) position. The Reformer used by The Pilates Body was different in that there were slope settings for the headrest, which could be adjusted for those requiring incline during core activation exercises. We also discussed spring tensions: 3 red (strongest), 1 blue (1/2 red), and 1 white (1/4 red). It was interesting to learn of these tensions and their possible combinations, for I had never been made known of their relative tensions previously.

We then transitioned quickly into breathing and pelvic movements. For the warm-up, the instructor started off quite high on the spring tension, instead of starting low to build up (or using the Cardio Tramp). A shocking three red springs were used for guiding the body back and forth, awakening the inner and outer thighs as well as the ankles. Frankly, this spring tension was very hard on my left knee, but surprisingly not too hard on ankles. I am undoubtedly more accustomed to commencing with a lower spring tension, then building up where possible; the approach would also be preferred for those with multiple injuries, such as myself. While lying down, we also executed several exercises in bridge, emphasizing articulation of the spine and activation of the hamstrings. We did not engage in side-lying exercises at all.

Turning to face the tower, both legs would be laid on top of the headrest and hands threaded through the straps. Starting off with a red spring for the upper body was, again, quite surprising. I adjusted accordingly using a combination of blue and white. In fact, the instructor, while making her rounds about the space, actually recommended modifying appropriately to fit one's abilities; she noted the most important aspects being breath and the movement itself, rather than heavy spring loading.

The instructor gave off the impression of a seasoned lecturer: while the imagery associated with pilates movements was still present, her aura was ultimately educational. Embedded within her were layers of knowledge and teaching experience, likely incapable to be captured within a single session.
Periodically throughout the class, I observed those around me: the other class attendees did not have a lean image - one appeared to lift weights, though many did not exhibit the fluidity displayed in regular practitioners of dance or yoga. Some students had enrolled in both Monday and Thursday sessions, which I presume to be for the sake of repetition and externally-applied discipline.

Prior to my arrival at the studio, I had already taken it upon myself to complete one Taylor Toned video, knowingly expecting the first class to reside on the more foundational side than effective exercise.

I zipped over to LA Fitness afterwards for a 12-2.5-25 workout, seeing as a friend had repeatedly informed of attempting the 12-3-30. The numbers translated into walking on a treadmill with a 12 degree incline, at a speed of 3 miles per hour (approx. 4.83 km/h), for 30 minutes. Twenty-five minutes at the near-full-speed was enough to boost my step count without resulting in perspiration.

I've only ever been asked once "How are you so busy?". The utterance genuinely brought about confusion, which further transcended into frustration and identification of ignorance. The second time I had felt such aggravation was when I griped about the seemingly endless tasks on my plate, and was provided a response of "So what? Why does it matter? Why does it matter if you do anything?". The abstract answer did not incite me to contemplate the "meaning of life", but rather how one could be so blind to the happenings of society and the respective roles that ought be fulfilled by each member within it.
For, as young adults adopting increasingly prevalent positions in the workforce, there comes a degree of responsibility: to be aware and considerate of those surrounding you, which may or may not occasionally requiring placing personal gain behind for the greater good. By placing yourself in the shoes of another, the bias is lessened; respect is sustained.

​Interestingly, budgeting, a skill as pivotal to adulting as social awareness, is less often overlooked due to survival needs. Homecooked meals (and, more recently, purchasing end-of-day surprise bags from select vendors) are one method of slashing expenses. However, my personal take is that handcrafted sustenance is not only quicker and cheaper, but easier to customize.

I depleted the remainder of my Mango Passion Fruit Tea from H Mart Calgary, mixing it with a heaping teaspoon (or three) of lemon juice and 250 ml can of Perrier. Next to be sampled will be T&T's Citron Drink With Passion Fruit.

​Meals of the week included leftovers of Udon, Miso Soup, Fried Rice from Congee Queen, Steamed Pork in Fermented Bean Curd, and Pho Big Bowl.

Having spotted the eatery after our TRAPPED adventures, the destination instantly floated into mind when faced with a suppressed appetite.
A small No. 22 House Special Pho rang in at an economic $11.95, while No. 45 Vermicelli, Spring Roll, Grilled Pork Balls & BBQ Pork and No. 82 Pad Thai Style Stir Fried Noodle with Egg, Shrimp, and Chicken were a tad pricier at $14.95 and $15.95 respectively.
Self-identifying as a pho restaurant, I expected nothing less of their noodle soups. A part of me desperately hoped that it'd be tastier - if not at least comparable to I Love Pho; both travel time and wait time were a fraction of the central Sauga favourite, and budget-friendly as well. Immediately obvious was the looser consistency of the broth. It was noticeably less savoury, yet nonetheless flavourful with slightly gelatinous qualities emerging the day after. Raw beef strips and brisket were of a decent portion, though I observed only a singular beef ball, thumb-sized section of tendon, and tiny bunch of tripe constituting the rest of the toppings. That said, the bean sprouts and lime wedges were distinctly fresher - a nice change from I Love Pho's frequent inclusion of wilted greens and yellowy limes.

​No. 45 comprised of a substantial amount of chopped vermicelli strands topped with sauce-smothered pork strips, four sturdy Grilled Pork Balls, and one spring roll snipped into three sections. A handful of lightly pickled cucumbers and carrots were positioned at the corner of the box, next to a tangy-spicy dipping sauce. While its presentation varied minimally from Yum's Kitchen, the flavours were more balanced overall. The condiment, albeit a tad fiery, was superior to Yum's rendition, which I've found to be more sugary than tangy; the spring rolls were wider in diameter and boasted a greater filling-to-casing ratio, bestowing a better bite while maintaining a mild crunch. The Grilled Pork strips were relatively devoid of structure - in other words, mushy and unappetizing. Though, the Grilled Pork Balls were quite delicious: stiffy but meaty, containing more flesh than filler.

​Re-purposing the flat rice noodles commonly served with broth, Pho Big Bowl compiled a stir-fried, protein-laced rendition with bits of chicken and shrimp. Cilantro and zesty lime wedges - and a single slice of tomato - contributed an invigorating accent to the normally greasy dish, enabling it to be consumed without satiating aftereffects.

My Rosso purchases are in the midst of being steadily exhausted. Earlier (883), it was confirmed that Kilimbi was a fabulous pick for filter coffee, emanating notes of blueberry as vibrant as its aroma. Repurposing the last of the 340 g for espresso, the Rwanda single origin was tested with and without milk.

​Hoddeok (even the burnt ones gushing sugar syrup) and an Iced Latte make for a spectacular pair. In this particular application, milk tends to overwhelm the sweet-sticky flavours of Kilimbi, yielding an overall bland profile. An Americano allows the entirety of the bean to shine, though its undertones remain bitter; the quick extraction process also tends to lend an acidic aftertaste.

Lover Boy, just like Kilimbi, is refreshing and, frankly, even a bit addicting in filter format. In espresso format, it emerges a bit odd-tasting without milk though.

I may have responded a bit shortsightedly when a fellow July baby proposed undertaking the CN Tower Climb together. The venture seemed new and exciting, yet I hadn't researched tremendously before giving my approval and relinquishing the non-refundable twenty-five dollar registration fee.

It was only after constant pestering and haunting tales of climbers fainting by the stairwell that I commenced proper training. Frankly, the Stairmaster was the fundamental reason of why I had requested a gym pass to start.
Four training rounds were conducted leading up to the event, with the latter two totalling 27 minutes (at a relatively quick pace) and 34 minutes (while maintaining steady-state cardio).

​It was only upon reaching Hall C that we realized half-price Sunrise Special tickets were retailed at the CN Tower, not the convention centre grounds. The sleepy polar bear ran back while I slowly prodded behind to conserve energy. A banana was consumed along the way.

​The sleepy polar bear succeeded in procuring the CN Tower ticket with just one minute to spare. Apparently, climbers did not need tickets to access the Observation Deck, for that would be our final destination after the climb.

Heading back to MTCC, we were welcomed and guided within by volunteers in black shirts. Numbers on the floor would lead the way to the check-in desk, where volunteers would issue wristbands, and yellow headbands had enough funds been raised. Any specific inquiries would be deferred to purple shirt-donning staff, as those were WWF employees, rather than event-specific staff.

​Upon completion of check-in process, the numbers led to Coat Check and other booths. A tent had been set up for the Platinum Panda experience for climbers that had successfully fundraised $1000 and up. A table lined with plastic water glasses and sponsor booths were found nearby. Separate booths for t-shirt collection, prize collection, and photobooth service were positioned along the opposite side of hall, across from check-in.

BamBam has been everywhere lately, jumping between music broadcast shows, BamJip, as well as various YouTube channels to promote Sour & Sweet, his first full-length album. As an ahgase, I revel in the deluge of fresh content surging my way. But beyond squealing in excitement and laughing hysterically at his witty remarks, I've come to learn of the artist's impressive growth, as well as identify with a number of his struggles.

​His love for beer and the colour purple were new discoveries to me, as was his tremendous struggle to continue life as an idol, artist, and entertainer. Dissimilar to those who base their decisions firstly off emotions, BamBam's greatest struggle was not in regards to producing art synonymous with his inner world. Rather, it was failing to achieve the desired results despite the amount of effort invested. Another aspect to the equation was the importance of being authentic, yet still respectful and considerate.

​Some declarations seemed to be no-brainers to him:

• Facing problems head-on instead of escaping from reality to avoid stress
• Having confidence and being self-aware nixes the need to be jealous or wary of a significant other's social circle, or worse, projecting one's insecurities on another person
• The lack of value of learning something if it would unlikely pose a drastic change to one's life, and further entails no benefit nor loss
• The significance of taking care of oneself via the latte joys in life, even if the reward is as simple as a can of cold beer after a long day
• Embracing the joys associated with interactions of "my people" rather than new faces
• Accepting that not every situation can be changed, and learning to be alright with the discomfort
• Taking opportunities at one's most dire and taking a leap of faith in response to others' sincerity
• Trusting the results of one's own hard work, despite lacking trust in oneself as a person

​I identified with more than just a handful of his comments, especially those spoken in the realms of rationality. That said, I find greater moderation in Bam's thoughts and actions than in myself: Self-indulgence, while playing a relatively minor part in his daily routine, never goes untended. Maturity has developed from his extensive experience in the entertainment industry, from which has given way to a more sustainable mindset and more balanced regime. Observing him throughout this process has been a gift to me, both as an ahgase and a mere speck of matter in space.

​Pasta salad cravings have perdured since the previous week, with all hints for tri-colour fusilli mixed with peppers and olives dismissed - or temporarily forgotten - by the sleepy polar bear.

When readymade renditions could not be located at Loblaws, matters were, naturally, taken into my own hands. My request for dry pasta was met with a box of De Cecco fusilli instead of the standard Unico packages, much to my surprise. The premium-looking box and "Product of Italy" label raised eyebrows, for it shouted "Alert: Expensive!" from all angles.
In reality, the item was on clearance, thus cheaper than our typical budget pick, but superior in quality. Cooked in salted water to a consistency between al dente and soft HK Café spaghetti, the beautiful, swirled specimens retained their shape throughout the mixing and tossing process that would await them.

Mayonnaise - Miracle Whip, really - is the customary condiment choice in our household. Often is it blended with wasabi, ketchup, and/or Dijon mustard for varying takes on potato salad. For fusilli though, I looked towards an oil-based dressing, which is seldom my go-to. Olive oil, rice wine vinegar, coarse salt, and a sprinkle of sugar formed the base, while two cloves of black garlic were meticulously broken down by hand and smothered into the pasta's ridges. At first, the salad seemed lacking with just sweet bell peppers (an orange and red each) and half a deseeded cucumber; black olives were pivotal in my view. However, once the flavours had an opportunity to permeate, the result was phenomenal: harmonious, textured, yet light on the stomach, as a pasta salad ought be.​

Other meals/snacks of the week included: Peanut Butter on Toast, Loblaws Potato Salad, Chiang Mai Trail Mix from Basil Box, ​Minced Pork with Eggplant, Udon, Miso Soup with withering, week-old scallions, and Sirloin Oscar leftovers from The Keg.

The main event for the sleepy polar bear's birthday was one that I pondered to an extensive degree.
Eliminating spas, movies (as the one of obvious interest had yet to release), and physical activity left me with very few options. Well, options that I found to be innovative anyway. Back and forth I would debate with myself regarding tufting as a potential activity, first justifying its value as a new DIY pursuit, then rejecting it on the basis of cost and resulting level of satisfaction. "Would it be an activity capable of being enjoyed equally?"

Eventually, seeing as any other activity seemed to pale in comparison, I bit the bullet and booked a slot at ZuoZuo Tufting & Fluid Bear. Of all the businesses I had so carefully reviewed, the Richmond Hill establishment prevailed as the most reasonable choice: Etobicoke, Yonge/Sheppard, and Yonge/Lawrence were compact and did not offer parking; Scarborough was unnecessarily far with few POIs, if any, in the surrounding vicinity.

Food destinations are of primary importance to the sleepy polar bear. Within fifteen minutes of the ZuoZuo, on the east side of the the 404, was Cafe de Hong Kong. It was decided, in that moment, that I'd aim for the popular brunch spot once and for all. The first visit was met with a 100-minute wait time and a consequential re-routing to Mount Joy Station Café.
This time around, I'd add my name to the waitlist just before setting out (and pray that all would go according to plan).

​With about fifteen minutes left till our arrival, I received a text notifying me of table availability. Oh no. I thought. Things are not going to plan after all!
Hurriedly, I joined the waitlist a second time, using my name and the sleepy polar bear's contact number. The wait time was an estimated 45-59 minutes.

The exterior was already bustling when we arrived. Overheard as I inched my way past the double doors was "We've been waiting so long and still need to wait."
Another chimed in. "I got the notification, but we still have to wait!"
I approached one of the staff to inquire of the waitlist status, then was directed a lady with short black hair. A tablet resided in her hand, likely assisting in queue management. Bracing myself to be rejected, I stated my case: "I put my name on the waitlist received the notification. It's a table for two."
The lady skimmed the list, found my name towards the top, but refused to confirm the exact wait time to be conservative.

Back outside I went. The adjacent Joy Noodle Cafe was proposed as an alternative, but the sleepy polar bear was reluctant to accept. "Let's wait ten minutes then see."
"Okay, but my booking is at 12 PM." I cautioned.

View the full album HERE !

​We re-entered Cafe de Hong Kong and inquired of availability for two once more. This time, the short-haired lady gestured us to wait by a compact two-seater. We would be seated next!

A swift yet thorough Lysol wipe later, we settled in beside a couple nearing retirement age. The man looked over at us with a slight animosity. "Why were they seated first instead of them?!"
I looked over to my right, where their friends were supposedly waiting.
His wife responded calmly, "Because they (the friends) are a party of three."

The sleepy polar bear's birthday celebrations would span three days, though not in their entirety:

• An impromptu Pistachio Cake;
• Low-key local activities; and
• A day out attempting new ventures

Extensive consideration had been summoned to optimize logistics over the long weekend. Prior research was critical, as Easter seems to be the only time of back-to-back closures.

Before delving into the agenda, I requested quick detours of McDonald's and T&T. The Strawberry Passionfruit and Peach Mango Fruit Splash Beverages were obtained for my sampling. The former started off sweet, then transitioned into tanginess, while the latter was relatively mild at first sip, then gradually grew sweeter. Both were refreshing, accessible picks for the upcoming spring/summer seasons.

As for T&T, I had suggested going together for simplicity sake. And thank goodness I had, for the parking lot was utter mayhem and only by splitting up could the task at hand be completed in a timely manner. 排包 - with and without raisins - and a singular Pineapple Bun were acquired during this stop. In hindsight, I should have reduced my consumption of Chinese bakery items prior to our pending Markham trip. The mere thought of bread over the next few days had my stomach churning.

​The Death Note room at TRAPPED had initially been proposed for our four-person gathering last month, but then eliminated on the account of one member having already completed it. The opportunity to try it arose again when I learned that the minimum player count was two. As the franchise also offered free admission within three days of one's birthday, it emerged as the ideal neighbourhood activity.

Located in a private lot just minutes from the Woodchester auto area (and my trusted CoCo location), TRAPPED was extremely easy to find with its large logo and bold lettering. One of the few establishments in open on Good Friday, the location was positively bustling.

We arrived just five minutes before our 4:30 PM booking, which granted just enough time for bathroom usage and transferring personal items into lockers. Then, we were quickly given a rundown of the room by one of the Game Masters; beyond effective walkie talkie usage, we were also informed of search protocols (ie. no clues under ceiling panels, no moving of objects labelled "Out of Bounds", etc.). "A complete success" was determined if no more than two hints were requested, but the group could request as many as needed.

The Death Note room was decorated to resemble a high schooler's bedroom. A desk and bookshelf were positioned along one wall, the bed in the centre, and a chair in the corner. Light Yagami's uniform was hung on the wall beside the door. A brief audio recording would be played upon entering - at a relatively low volume, if I must add. It provided an overview of the Death Note storyline for those unfamiliar with the story, though didn't contribute to any search for hints. 

The sleepy polar bear and I quickly split up to cover the room. I was first to discover a laminated flash card underneath the pillow, while the sleepy polar bear found another in the school bag on the chair. A third was found in the pocket of the uniform. Sandwiched underneath a glass panel on the desk were several diary entries, likely handwritten by staff. One of these pages led to clues on the bookshelf, while another would provide the password to the laptop on the desk (as we later learned). In the drawers, we found a small chest containing the key to escape, and a Death Note replica in a hidden compartment within the same drawer.

After some further perusal (and use of our first hint request), the sleepy polar bear discovered entry to a small room: an unlit, makeshift lair with an outline of Ryuk as tall as the ceiling. From there, we would utilize clues found in the main room to unlock a wooden safe; a briefcase with the initials "R.P" was found.

Our second hint request led us to the password of the laptop. From there, we found FBI profiles - one of which corresponded to the owner of the locked briefcase. "The password are digits that hold meaning to the inspector." we were told. Trying the three-digit agent number and birthday ended in vain. Thinking fast, I resorted to the Family Profile section, and found the name of the agent's fiancée, a former FBI agent.

At this point, I was slightly perplexed. In the tattered Death Note we had uncovered, the fiancée had supposedly died in 2004 due to suicide. However, the FBI profile indicated that the woman was engaged as of 2006. The timelines did not align. After some debate, the sleepy polar bear reminded me that "most people can't read Japanese. I don't think they expect players to read the non-English content." - which was a valid point. Instead of pursuing the contents of the notebook further, I changed course and searched for the fiancée's FBI profile instead, and was met with success.

The sleepy polar bear assisted in making the abstract connections between a colour grid and number lock pad, and again with switching modes on a flashlight for UV light. Before we knew it, we had completed the room with three hints and escaped with four minutes to spare.

The activity terminated pretty quickly from that point. We were congratulated, then ushered to the front for an optional but rightfully deserved "Success" photo by the Death Note canvas in the waiting area. As full payment had been received at the time of deposit, there weren't any outstanding issues to tend to. The staff merely returned to their posts as Game Master(s) or front desk attendants. Unlike Escape the House, TRAPPED was very timely. Our session concluded exactly one hour follwing entry into the space.

With a third escape room experience under my belt, I can confidently conclude the following:

1. If a clue has been used already, it is 75% safe to dismiss on move onto a different item instead of re-inspecting it
2. Clues adopting similar appearances are likely linked
3. Capitalization is sometimes intentional; colours and filters (3D glasses, UV light, etc.) are usually intentional
4. Pay attention to the Game Master's pre-game briefings, as they sometimes contain hints

​All factors considered, the Death Note room was a splendid experience. Albeit costly for just sixty minutes of activity, I appreciated how the game brought the storyline to the 3D realm and enabled even two-player teams to partake as investigators. With particular regard to the sleepy polar bear and I, the activity fostered teamwork, combining our respective strengths in connecting abstract and physical indicators.

​With roughly ninety minutes remaining till our dinner reservation, I proposed exploration of the nearby LCBO. Upon pulling into the empty plaza though, it dawned upon me: Today was a statutory holiday.

Fast food establishments remained open, which spurred a sudden desire to sample Wendy's new French Toast Sticks.