​I had always viewed myself as one with superb adaptability, and not for the reason of being "flexible" with whatever outcomes may arise, but rather that I'd possess the ability to solve whatever issues may unfold in a given moment, whether it be summoning from existing knowledge or outsourcing information in the quickest way possible. The recent transition has proven challenging in more ways than one, for it's brought along new work responsibilities, new colleagues, new team culture, and, most evidently, a new in-office schedule.
These changes may be insignificant in the grand scheme of my career, however they are nonetheless grueling to tackle all at once. When I finally settled into the general groove of things, my weekends would see relief once more.

We set out for Thornbury early Saturday morning, me belting my heart out to STAY and the sleepy polar bear tailgating the vehicle in front with every possible opportunity. It is with some degree of allayment that I declare steadier driving skills since the disconcerting drive of last year. That said, street names are still foreign and lane changes are still shaky.
I had planned for an optional break for indoor plumbing facilities at the halfway mark, though we ultimately bypassed this stop and headed straight for Thornbury. By the time we had realized, the closest McDonald's was already thirty minutes away and required backtracking.

A number of wind turbines were passed along the way.
"Why don't we have more of these?" asked the sleepy polar bear, as eyes were taken off the road for a split second - not that any road signs were read.  "They look nice."
I rolled my eyes, as aesthetics were hardly the reason for installation. "I don't think you can put these anywhere." I stated, matter-of-factly. "There are probably regulations that specify their proximity, and Canada has laws on land use. Some are restricted areas that can't be touched."

​Nearing the Thornbury Downtown BIA, we passed by a luxurious-looking mahogany building - Thornbury Craft Cider & Brew House. My eyes immediately illuminated at the sight of the brewery and patio setup.
"Did you want to eat here instead?"
"No." Brewhouses were simply too slow of a dining experience while on a schedule. But I responded instead with an answer that the sleepy polar bear could identify with better instead: "I don't like their stuff."
And it was true, for their cider had been average and Ladder Run had been blacklisted.

​Several street parking spots could be found along Bruce Street. I pointed to one just west of Good Grief Coffee Roasters, an establishment that had piqued my curiosity during the previous day's research phase. (Amazingly, we neither hit the curb nor scratched the vehicle before us.)

Read Part 1 HERE !

I swapped footwear quickly, then urged the sleepy polar bear to hurry back towards Thornbury. It had been my assumption that all beaches would support a splashpad and changing area. Alas, I was wrong.

In addition to paid parking, Little River Beach Park featured bathrooms, though no showers for rinsing off mossiness. I settled for wiping my feet dry, then changing into dry clothes.

​Ice cream is a mandatory mid-afternoon summer treat for me, particularly on days involving aquatic activities. Leading up to the visit, I had meticulously verified the operating hours of local dessert parlours, landing upon Pom Pom in the process.

​The Thornbury Downtown BIA was very compact, and we essentially found ourselves within walking distance of the businesses we had visited earlier. On the east side of Bridge Street, we found street parking marked with simplistic line paintings between an interlock boulevard and mountable curb and gutter. The right-of-way appeared more or less the same, however businesses to the west of Bridge Street had narrower walkways, continuous curb and gutter, and street parking on the road itself.

We had spotted another ice cream spot closer to the beach, though had our qualms towards its offerings - why was it so empty?
​A short lineup persisted outside Pom Pom, indicating plausibly greater popularity amongst locals.

​The designated POI adopted the form of a pale yellow hut next to a laundromat. To the left of the ordering window was a menu with prices; to its right was a list of ice cream flavours, categorized into dairy and vegan options. Merchandise such as a canvas tote bag and plastic water bottle were spotted adorning the payment area.

While we waited, the sleepy polar bear indecisively shifted between Cookies & Cream and Caramel Coco Crunch. On the other hand, I began Googling flavours for more comprehensive descriptions. Listening to my utterances of various ice cream profiles, the sleepy polar bear eventually settled on a small scoop of Moose Tracks in a waffle cone.

​Hovering between a root beer float and ice cream sandwich, I ultimately decided on the latter as to not fill my stomach before supper. Before pointing out a desired flavour, recommendations were sought from the girl behind the cashier. She recommended the Chocolate Brownie Cookie, though noted that the ice cream was "up to" me. I leaned towards Black Cherry, then, out of concern for cough syrup-tasting cherry bits, opted for Mint Chunk.

Spring blossoms are a limited-time occurrence - as brief as transitional seasons in Ontario and as timely as the ripening of avocados.

The breathtaking, rosy buds I had laid eyes on just a week ago had vanished within a matter of 48 hours. White buds, which were spotted along Burnhamthorpe leading to Winston Churchill had also succumbed to the same fate with the dreary descent of rainfall.

​A visit to LA Fitness was in advance my final Beginner Reformer session at The Pilates Body, for the sole purpose of maximizing my membership. Arriving just before 6PM led to an annoying parking situation - which, honestly, could have been worse - and lack of vacant cardio equipment in the Ladies' Fitness Room. Four of four treadmills were taken, the single functioning Stairmaster was being occupied, and one of three elliptical machines bore an error message. I heaved a sigh, then quickly jumped onto the last functioning elliptical and powered through for five minutes.

My fifth and final class at The Pilates Body took a turn for the positive - it was, surprisingly somewhat challenging! My spot in the studio was sunlit from from the UV rays penetrating the glass windows. This warmth was especially obvious when doing jumps on the Cardio Tramp; thankfully, the studio's A/C kicked in fairly quickly. The variations on the device included:

• Straight legs; parallel feet but not attached
• Straight legs; feet placed at the edge of the trampoline (yet still within the mesh frame)
• Jumping jack feet: feet attached at the centre, then apart,
• Opening of thighs in mid-air, then back (no flutters or other medications, etc.)

For the first time, we also did exercises that challenges the side body (lateral jumps with leg raises on the Cardio Tramp!) exercises.

​For the upper body and back, we mainly utilized the tension straps and did not use the Reformer Box for any lying exercises, which was greatly appreciated as I had already executed a few before arriving. Threading the hands through the tension straps and crossing the straps to form an "X", we pulled the elbows back while keeping the shoulders down and elbows about shoulder height. Many other students were noticed to have lost their form over the rep count. I particularly enjoyed an exercise that involved threading the hands through the tension straps and, while keeping the palms open and minding wrist hyperextension, twist to one side while rolling down and extending the arms outwards, then slowing rolling up while sequencing through the spine. It was, admittedly, as therapeutic as the instructor had made it out to be, though other class participants had trouble coordinating the movement while maintaining fluidity. The same issues were also observed on the Cardio-Tramp, when some attendees kicked without restraint, causing the Reformer to shift by at least three feet. Beyond tugging back at one's body, the Reformer offers a great deal of external feedback when control is insufficient.
We transitioned into crunches and oblique twists on the Carriage, then slowly incorporated the Cardio-Tramp for single leg jumps using one white spring to maximize the duration of engagement. True to her words, the movement did mimic jumping in slow-motion, humorously.
Towards the end of the session, we transitioned into one of my favourites: standing thigh abductions with one foot on the platform extender and one on the Carriage.

​The termination of the Beginner Reformer classes brought about some degree of relief to me, as my weekday evening schedule for the next upcoming weeks are nothing short of unpredictable. Having to adhere to the same routine week by week was slightly annoying, knowing that there was flexibility to join classes on other days. Thus, when the idea of continuing the program at the same time and transitioning it to an "Essentials" class was mentioned, I revealed hesitation, along with a desire to explore the studio's other classes. The instructor clarified that "Essentials" would bridge the gap between "Beginner" and "Intermediate", though assured me that I'd "be fine in any of the classes" in a hushed tone. "You are fine and have great body awareness." The praise was motivating, and, frankly, I did crave a deeper burn - one that would deter me from entering LA Fitness to compensate for loss of productivity on the same night.

A half build-your-own pizza and Pesto Cheesy Bread set me back $15.95 before tax, while a small Blood Orange Lemonade quenched thirst at a reasonable $2.59. After tax, the meal came to a grand total of $21.36. It was unthinkably scrumptious, and, like the Thai ahgase had noted, the Original thin crust was phenomenal! In hindsight, a whole pizza may have resulted in better value, as one could pile on as many toppings as desired. From ricotta cheese to basil to Italian meatballs and kalamata olives, the combinations were truly limitless!
However, I happened to be hankering for cheesy bread, and wavered between the Original and Pesto versions before finally settling on the latter. The member of staff taking down my order was exceptionally pleasant despite my indecisiveness.

​I opted to dine on the patio, shielded from the setting sun with bright orange umbrellas. Though temperatures were quite comfortable without a jacket, I hadn't accounted for the breeziness. Napkins were curled up by the wind and tossed onto the grass. The lid of the pizza box nearly slammed into my face, had my raised palm not prevented the calamity. Hurriedly, I devoured the half pizza before its cheesy strings seized. The pesto bread was plush and even cheesier, with a thick, uniform layer of mozzarella; while not nearly as potent as I had expected, the herby drizzle contributed chroma difference without providing contrast in flavour.

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.

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.

"Don't you have a lot of yoga mats?"
"They're not here." I responded, matter-of-factly. "And I need one for class."
"You have a big one in Vancouver."
"I brought my orange one over."
"No, there's one more, probably tucked away somewhere."

After discovering the utter lack of mats at LA Fitness, I took matters into my own hands. Being utterly convinced that a budget mat with fast, free shipping would suffice for the grimy gym studio floors, I resorted to Amazon. And then, in the absence of a carrying strap, I DIYed my own variation with thin elastic cord.

​Composed of supposedly eco-friendly TPE material, the surface was smooth, unlike my bumpy Gaiam one (that I had left at the sleepy polar bear's) and proclaimed to be nonslip. The mat arrived within twenty-four hours, from which point ensued a thorough sanitization process: once with soapy water and another with tea tree oil and water. It was with relief that the mat did not emerge reeking of rubber or cheap plastic.

However, it was nevertheless, subpar for its price. After a short while in bird dog position, a dent formed where my knee was. It persisted for the duration of my workout, like cheap memory foam. The surface was decent and indeed nonslip, but gripped toes excessively during dynamic movements, causing my toe to bend underneath instead of assisting it along its path. The foamy texture further caused insulation of heat, rather than its dissipation. My POPFLEX version, albeit far pricier, was just so much better. (That said, both mats susceptible to streaking and surface discolouration, regardless of usage count.)

​Leading up to the sleepy polar bear's birthday, I have begun my preparations accordingly. Reservations have already been confirmed, up to three weeks in advance. A last-minute present also wound its way to me, for it is difficult to resist stationery necessities at clearance price points.

Meals of the week comprise of: Steamed Pork with Pickled Radish + Gai Lan/Kale, Tomato Minced Pork with Sweet Bell Peppers over Macaroni, and Myungdong Shabu Shabu takeout of Wang Mandu, Bibimbap, and Kimchi Jeon.

​The roster also includes Homemade 杏仁蜜棗茶 to the rescue for parchedness and perpetually sore throats.

Weekends for the average adult are catch-up days. Those tasked with raising young children may beg to differ, though this statement will likely hold true for the vast majority of societal contributors. (Adult-aged children need not apply.)

Rising earlier than I do on the standard work-from-home day, I prepared myself for a 9 AM arrival at Costco on Saturday morning. The entirety of the grocery list was obtained in under ten minutes, though not without intense frustrations with the sleepy polar bear, who offered to assist in the morning warehouse run for the first time ever and delayed it with the purchase of a single Hash Brown (Oh, the never-ending Hash Brown woes!).

​Returning from Costco (and a fully-charged lecture about attaining base goals before adding innovation into the equation), I transitioned into chores and the heavily unanticipated, annual tax return process. Lunch was consumed swiftly, then supplemented with snacks of homemade Cha Siu (not executed by yours truly) and a fizzy orange juice-mango passion jam medley.

​From the glossy sheen to magnificent marbling to crispy, charred edges, the homemade rendition was not only far more delectable than Magic BBQ, but economic as well.

​The evening hours were scheduled to spent at an escape room with friends. Leading up to the appointment, I began to suffer queasiness in the stomach. Just as I had readied myself, the sleepy polar bear informed of having departed solo, without prior confirmation of my intents. With less than twenty minutes left to the booking slot, I raged with incredulity and hurried hopped into my own vehicle to make up for lost time.

Thankfully (or not so thankfully), my extreme speed guided me to the facility in sixteen minutes. Much to my relief, our commencement time was not strictly enforced.

​Browsing the archives, I realized that my last escape room experience had taken place in December 2016. Pricey admission, paired with a tiresome commute into downtown Toronto, had unfolded into a relatively dismal turnout with minimal excitement. Given this record, I had turned down escape rooms for good, much like pho. Alas, one positive experience was all that was needed to turn the tables.

In reviewing room choices and prices for HintHunt and Trapped, I learned of the current market prices for a sixty-minute experience: $30 to $40 before tax. These were extravagant rates to me, for the event is brief and level of enjoyment is entirely dependent on the facility's "Game Master(s)".
When go karting was eliminated as an alternative, I took matters into my own hands, eventually securing a stellar deal on Groupon for Escape The House. It was, by far, the most budget option possible: $64 after taxes for a group of four, or $16 per person.

​Upon arrival, we signed our names on the waiver and were instructed to place our belongings in a locker. Any device capable of capturing media were prohibited to preserve the integrity of the game room, and reasonably so. The key would remain with us until after the game session.
Adjacent to the lockers was a single stall bathroom. It was surprisingly clean, despite being a unisex stall, though I grew progressively wary of the toilet's restrictive flushing capabilities.

There were three rooms on offer at Escape The House: Turbulence, Trapped, and Last Stop Motel. When my first choice of Last Stop Motel was fully booked, I entered onto the waitlist but booked Trapped in the meantime. The waitlist notification was never received, thus we merely continued with Trapped.

A briefing was provided by one of the staff members prior to entry. Beyond walkie-talkies, unlimited hints, and cautionary warnings about ceiling panels and biohazard signage, we would be given a rundown of our room format.

S​POILERS AHEAD!