Over the past decade, I've embarked on countless "Journey to Health"s. Some spurred from an overdose of Lindt truffles, while others negligence of red meat. In all cases, a balanced diet had failed to be maintained, and my body suffered in an attempt to combat while attempting to operate at full productivity.
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Low iron levels led to increased intake of lean pork and dark, leafy greens like kale and spinach. For my most recent disaster, low fibre intake seemed to constitute the culprit. As such, I've been working tirelessly at incorporating natural sources of the constipation-relieving component into my diet, as well as seeking assistance from OTC medication and supplements.
My former diet of bran cereal and oatmeal quickly grew tiring, even when accented with toasted pecans, ripe banana, and a sprinkle of dried fruit. Coffee, in any form, is usually welcomed with open arms, however. (The occasional slice of banana bread was not uncommon either to assist in a gradual transition.)
My former diet of bran cereal and oatmeal quickly grew tiring, even when accented with toasted pecans, ripe banana, and a sprinkle of dried fruit. Coffee, in any form, is usually welcomed with open arms, however. (The occasional slice of banana bread was not uncommon either to assist in a gradual transition.)
The long weekend comprised primarily of at-home activities: recovery from the constipation catastrophe, sporadic bursts of dust removal, and Family Day errands - the only day where weather conditions and physical wellness aligned.
Eight days after the arrival of Lunar New Year, I finally made it to Square One's yearly exhibit outside Holt Renfrew. It was, essentially, my last opportunity to observe the installation before the scrolls would be taken down at the end of the week.
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Having arrived at the mall in advance of 12 PM, I expected a relatively vacant space - an area permitting effortless flow from store to store and breezy checkouts. This was hardly the case, for the corridors had already filled with an atrocious number of shoppers.
That said, the worst of all was definitely Walmart. Renovations entailed obstructions, partial closures, re-arrangement of products, and, most horrifically, reduced floor area and aisle widths. Increased customer volumes paired with unhurried attitudes already make for a despicable retail experience. When the venture was supplemented with narrowed aisles and uncertainty towards product placement, errand-running took a steep downward turn.
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My items of interest were procured after roaming aisles of jaggery, overpriced Large Flake Oats, and discounts on Lunar New Year serving plates. Then came the chaos of the Self Checkout section: About half of the machines were out of service.
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The next stop was T&T, but preceding was a much-needed stopover at Holt Renfrew for uncontaminated - yet to be contaminated? - public washroom facilities.
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Sampled on the fifth day following its creation was the last unit of my Hidden Heart Pound Cake trio - the nicest one, mind you. The section had dried thoroughly, though its visuals unaltered.
Going home with me were another two pieces of Isabelle's Pineapple Flavoured Cakes, which admitted grown on you with time, and a Turrón gift box from Barcelona. Admittedly, the nougat-nut bark hybrid was not very much to my liking. Regardless of flavour variation, the segments were sticky, rigid, and showcased dense, untoasted almonds embedded in an exceptionally sugary honey-egg white slab.
Going home with me were another two pieces of Isabelle's Pineapple Flavoured Cakes, which admitted grown on you with time, and a Turrón gift box from Barcelona. Admittedly, the nougat-nut bark hybrid was not very much to my liking. Regardless of flavour variation, the segments were sticky, rigid, and showcased dense, untoasted almonds embedded in an exceptionally sugary honey-egg white slab.
Attempts were made to further the cleaning process. The evening saw removal of dust, storage of my studio lights, and a side-by-side comparison of Asahi Super Dry and Asahi 0.0, the latter obtained in a 30-count package from Costco.
Hue was consistent across both glasses, though carbonation levels were noticeably higher in the original edition. When consumed on its own, the 0.0 can's contents were decently enjoyable, however the differences became immediate when sampled one after the other. The non-alcoholic version was ostensibly blander and utterly lacking in complexity.
As far as non-alcoholic beers go, Asahi isn't bad at all. That said, the Dry Zero Free rendition is definitely more palatable.
Hue was consistent across both glasses, though carbonation levels were noticeably higher in the original edition. When consumed on its own, the 0.0 can's contents were decently enjoyable, however the differences became immediate when sampled one after the other. The non-alcoholic version was ostensibly blander and utterly lacking in complexity.
As far as non-alcoholic beers go, Asahi isn't bad at all. That said, the Dry Zero Free rendition is definitely more palatable.
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Without any proper sustenance in the household for my cleaning assistant of the day, I led the way to McDonald's after hours for a McRib, Double Cheeseburger, and Fries.
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I munched away on Choco Churro Turtle Chips while wafts of barbecue sauce entered my peripheral.
Days of my in-office presence were shifted towards the latter end of the week, as leisure investments would require my after-hours availability near the Yonge-Dundas area anyway.
After weeks - no, maybe years! - of banana bread slices for breakfast, I switched to the less portable alternative of oatmeal. Quaker Large Flake Oats were measured out accordingly in preparation, though any format beyond quick/instant oats could be used as well. (My preference lies with Dan D Pak's Rolled Oats for its affordability and shelf life.)
The ideal oatmeal ratio for a single serving is: 1/3 cup oats to 2/3 cup water. Assembling the mixture is easy at home using my green plastic measuring cup, but being in the wild devoid of the trusty tool demanded planning. Converting the volume ratio to mass, the equivalent single serving ingredient quantities were: 34 g of oats to 114 g (57 x 2) of water.
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An attempt to locate my complimentary Starbucks reusable mug for office use ultimately ended in vain, for I found no familiar cup but countless expired supplements from years past.
As if the universe heard my woes, a TD and Starbucks pop-up at the Bay Concourse awaited me the next morning. Between 7 AM - 10 AM, reusable Starbucks cups would be distributed to passerbys, with the intent of promoting payment by TD credit or debit cards on the Starbucks mobile app. Slotted into my office locker shortly afterwards, the cup would facilitate any early afternoon caffeine needs.
As if the universe heard my woes, a TD and Starbucks pop-up at the Bay Concourse awaited me the next morning. Between 7 AM - 10 AM, reusable Starbucks cups would be distributed to passerbys, with the intent of promoting payment by TD credit or debit cards on the Starbucks mobile app. Slotted into my office locker shortly afterwards, the cup would facilitate any early afternoon caffeine needs.
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UCC 114 and the remaining Raisin Pai Bao from T&T would supplement the existing backup snack supply of Honey Butter Chips.
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Lunchtime would welcome warm weather and a voluntary site visit to the Fashion District.
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I hadn't anticipated to succeed in making the round trip in under sixty minutes, yet I somehow managed the speedy trip despite being utterly surly and sleep-deprived.
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My trek led to the discovery of a compact Yuzuki outpost along Spadina, seemingly for quick bites and Japanese ingredients, and perusal of Neo Coffee Bar's most recent opening adjacent to a swanky new condo tower. Beyond a beautiful, well-illuminated seating area, the location also featured cocktails after 5 PM and izakaya-style offerings such as tartare and sliced proteins.
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Exploring one of countless City laneways was an unplanned activity, yet nonetheless intriguing. Setting aside the copious amounts of accumulated debris/trash, cracked asphalt surfaces, and horrific settlement, the segments were, at the very least, less eerie during daytime hours with sporadic foot traffic.
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I also chanced across a Winter Warm-Up station in the lobby of Royal Bank Plaza. The series would run for approximately one month in the lobby of the commercial/office building, usually Mondays and Wednesdays, and feature timed appearances by local vendors.
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The following office day was comparatively sunnier, yet not particularly balmy. Moreover, temperatures were anticipated to stoop to the negative double digits come dusk. I arrived to a near-vacant work setting. About five others were present, either attending meetings in the project rooms, coughing intermittently, audibly announcing baby rash problems, or munching on rice cakes and leaving a trail of crumbs.
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Seldom one to volunteer Friday attendance, I reached out to one of my fellow downtown workers for potential lunch meetup. The desired destination would be Union Station's Bay Concourse, where complimentary patties would be supplied by a Patties Express and Jamaica Tourist Board collaboration between the hours of 11 AM and 4 PM in honour of Black History Month.
Naturally, the initiative drew a lengthy crowds. That said, the queue was extremely quick to dissipate, as individually wrapped patties were merely handed to each interested individual.
It was my first time trying the specimen, for the greasy aromas lining the stall near Ryerson (now TMU) and Square One's The Food District had never incited a visit.
My meetup mate had arrived before me, obtained a patty, and hovered about a nearby pillar in wait of my arrival. We continued to linger in the lineup until a fresh tray of patties were brought to the kiosk.
It was my first time trying the specimen, for the greasy aromas lining the stall near Ryerson (now TMU) and Square One's The Food District had never incited a visit.
My meetup mate had arrived before me, obtained a patty, and hovered about a nearby pillar in wait of my arrival. We continued to linger in the lineup until a fresh tray of patties were brought to the kiosk.
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Grease began to seep into the white paper packaging within seconds. I unveiled the golden half-moon-shaped pastry and bit into a corner. Steam escaped the parcel immediately, crawling up the side of my face and scalding my upper lip. Recoiling in pain, I announced my shock, then proceeded with a careful second bite.
Half of the patty was consumed without issues, however it was also devoid of filling. When contact was eventually made with morsels of pepper-laden minced beef, the scorching internal properties of the pocket were witnessed once again. The filling oozed out under pressure, scalding not only my mouth, but my hands as well. Any remnants dribbled down my jacket, plummeting to the tiled floor with an awful splatter. There was, in essence, no possible way of consuming the complimentary item with grace and dignity.
Half of the patty was consumed without issues, however it was also devoid of filling. When contact was eventually made with morsels of pepper-laden minced beef, the scorching internal properties of the pocket were witnessed once again. The filling oozed out under pressure, scalding not only my mouth, but my hands as well. Any remnants dribbled down my jacket, plummeting to the tiled floor with an awful splatter. There was, in essence, no possible way of consuming the complimentary item with grace and dignity.
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Once the ordeal had concluded and hands were washed, I ventured into Kibo Market in search of greens and/or fruit. Unsurprisingly, the interior of the store had filled with students. Many had turned to small packages of salad, hot food, and kimbap for their mid-day fix. Meanwhile, dessert and overpriced chips were relatively untouched by this demographic.
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Individually packaged treats such as cube toast and dango rang in at under three dollars apiece, while sides such as kimchi and seaweed salad under five dollars. Majority of the meal sets were also within the range of $10-$15, an incredibly affordable price given the inflated economy.
Salads had vanished from the refrigerated display case. As such, the need for veggies was settled with a meat-less Japchae with marinated, sweet Shiitake mushroom slices and glossy glass noodles. A Green Plum Drink was also acquired after being reminded of Galleria's unavailability of small bottle formats.
Salads had vanished from the refrigerated display case. As such, the need for veggies was settled with a meat-less Japchae with marinated, sweet Shiitake mushroom slices and glossy glass noodles. A Green Plum Drink was also acquired after being reminded of Galleria's unavailability of small bottle formats.
Upon parting ways with my lunch companion, the PATH was perused for installations of interest. Beyond the Winter Warm-Up series at Royal Bank Plaza, 121 King Street was discovered to featured exclusive Valentine's Day and Lunar New Year events for the month of February.
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At Lindt, Gold Bunnies were spotted adorning the front display area, accompanied by signage reminding visitors that Easter would arrive in approximately a month's time.
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Neo Coffee Bar's Exchange Tower location was observed to have submitted a Liquor License Application, likely following in the footsteps of the King/Spadina outpost in offering after-hours cocktails and munchables.
I would observe from the cubicle as the scenery outside transitioned from warmth and brilliance to cool and cloudy.
Honey Butter Chips would be enjoyed for snack, followed by Minced Pork and Choy Sum over rice for dinner, and a slice of unfrosted, defrosted Carrot Pound Cake for dessert.
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The event schedule was informed to be as follows:
which informed my general schedule for the evening, including queuing time if necessary. The original plan was to commence lining up at 6:30 PM in wait of 7 PM entry. However, given the steadily plummeting subzero conditions, non-K-pop idol status of the artist, and delayed arrival of my concert partner, the departure from my office was continually postponed until thirty minutes till show start.
- Doors open at 7 PM
- Opening Act #1, Pino at 8 PM
- Opening Act #2, Reggie Becton at 8:30 PM
- Ethan Low at 9:20 PM
which informed my general schedule for the evening, including queuing time if necessary. The original plan was to commence lining up at 6:30 PM in wait of 7 PM entry. However, given the steadily plummeting subzero conditions, non-K-pop idol status of the artist, and delayed arrival of my concert partner, the departure from my office was continually postponed until thirty minutes till show start.
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We weaved past the crowds forming outside Massey Hall, a venue at which I retain no fond memories, towards the newer TD Music Hall. Security at the double doors was far less stringent than the usual personnel, even smiling at us as we neared the entrance.
The establishment almost appeared to be a mixed-use residential/office space of sorts, for the lobby was microscopic and without rooms. Access to any area would require the assistance of the elevator, which seemed to be of the hybrid passenger and freight variety, given its spacious interior and rear door.
The fourth floor was quaint, with an almost gallery-like tranquility. The corridor led to a coat check area manned by three members of security. The counter would charge $4 for convenience, though we were notified that it wasn't mandatory for the purposes of the show. Generally speaking, venue security exuded a friendly demeanour, and even helpful attitude. It was, admittedly, amongst the few experiences where concertgoers could feel assisted rather than dismissed or belittled.
The establishment almost appeared to be a mixed-use residential/office space of sorts, for the lobby was microscopic and without rooms. Access to any area would require the assistance of the elevator, which seemed to be of the hybrid passenger and freight variety, given its spacious interior and rear door.
The fourth floor was quaint, with an almost gallery-like tranquility. The corridor led to a coat check area manned by three members of security. The counter would charge $4 for convenience, though we were notified that it wasn't mandatory for the purposes of the show. Generally speaking, venue security exuded a friendly demeanour, and even helpful attitude. It was, admittedly, amongst the few experiences where concertgoers could feel assisted rather than dismissed or belittled.
Within the performance hall as a booth for artist merchandise, a bar stocked with basic beers and candy, and, most importantly, a corridor of washroom facilities. Round tables lined the edge of the room. Hazy, cool-toned light fixtures shone down on the stage, in wait of the artists' arrival.
Our entry into the space coincided with just enough time to scan our surroundings, use the bathroom if need be, and navigate towards an unobstructed section of the stage. Most in attendance were young: a Gen Z population of ostensibly Asian descent and little societal knowledge. During our brief pause in searching for a standing spot, a duo extended snarky remarks in response to my declaration of forgotten platform shoes - that, frankly, wasn't even vaguely geared towards them.
Our entry into the space coincided with just enough time to scan our surroundings, use the bathroom if need be, and navigate towards an unobstructed section of the stage. Most in attendance were young: a Gen Z population of ostensibly Asian descent and little societal knowledge. During our brief pause in searching for a standing spot, a duo extended snarky remarks in response to my declaration of forgotten platform shoes - that, frankly, wasn't even vaguely geared towards them.
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Eventually, we found our way to the right side of the stage, just behind the media crews. There were no barricades along this portion, but the audience was decently behaved enough to not engage in shoving.
Lights dimmed at 8 PM sharp, in stark contrast to my often-unpunctual show experiences. The first opening act was a noticeably nervous young boy, likely aged 18 or under. He was accompanied by a guitarist and keyboardist, and launched into six exceptionally short songs with nonexistent song introductions. His anxiety could be perceived even from below the stage; while the hands did not jitter, the lack of small talk and speed of execution indicated a desire to complete the segment without mistakes.
Lights dimmed at 8 PM sharp, in stark contrast to my often-unpunctual show experiences. The first opening act was a noticeably nervous young boy, likely aged 18 or under. He was accompanied by a guitarist and keyboardist, and launched into six exceptionally short songs with nonexistent song introductions. His anxiety could be perceived even from below the stage; while the hands did not jitter, the lack of small talk and speed of execution indicated a desire to complete the segment without mistakes.
By 8:20 PM, Pino had exited the stage, taking his stage and media team with him. The lights beamed as crews worked to transition towards the next artist. Supposedly hailing from Maryland, Reggie Becton had been personally invited by Ethan as the second Opening Act of the evening.
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His songs harnessed incredible energy. They spanned a soulful medley of jazz, R&B, and pop - the ideal beats to be blasting around the house while singing along. Reggie alluded to an aura of Bruno-Mars-meets-Ne-Yo, where utmost versatility could be heard in each track.
Unlike the first artist, he was clearly more comfortable with the element of performance, even dancing freely and conversing playfully with the audience.
Unlike the first artist, he was clearly more comfortable with the element of performance, even dancing freely and conversing playfully with the audience.
9:00 PM marked Reggie's departure, making his set just short of thirty minutes. The lights were illuminated once more as the LAB0916 crew climbed onto the stage to undertake preparatory procedures.
A constant nudging of my side had become apparent nearing the end of second Opening Act. I turned towards my right, where two young girls had originally stood at the start of the show. Instead of seeing their giggly faces, a middle-aged Asian woman stood looking utterly unimpressed. Behind us was another bespectacled lady, covering her mouth while speaking on the phone, and two younger adolescents. They all appeared to share similar facial features, from a pale, round face to round glasses; the guy was observed donning a black LAB0916 hoodie.
Just as I was about to turn back to the stage, the middle-aged woman piped up, "Can you not hit me with your bag?" she blurted. I was taken back, both by her rudeness but also the logical inconsistencies.
"Sorry, I was actually going to ask if you could please stop pushing me." I retorted.
"No, your bag is hitting me!" she continued.
Resisting the urge to roll my eyes, I explained that I hadn't moved an inch.
"But your BAG did! Every time you move, your bag hits me." She continued relentlessly before I could continue. The young Asian male behind her piped up at this point.
"Hey hey, this is Ethan's mom." He intervened with noticeable hostility. Frankly, I wasn't sure of the meaning behind this statement. Was I expected to cower in fear? To suddenly yield and offer her a closer position to the stage?
I persisted with my stance, "I didn't move. If the bag hit you, you can move back." Had any of the three blockheads bothered to contemplate the situation practically, they would comprehend that, if I haven't shifted laterally and had maintained my position since the start of the show, the only way for them to be impacted by my rotational movements is if they had moved closer towards me.
A constant nudging of my side had become apparent nearing the end of second Opening Act. I turned towards my right, where two young girls had originally stood at the start of the show. Instead of seeing their giggly faces, a middle-aged Asian woman stood looking utterly unimpressed. Behind us was another bespectacled lady, covering her mouth while speaking on the phone, and two younger adolescents. They all appeared to share similar facial features, from a pale, round face to round glasses; the guy was observed donning a black LAB0916 hoodie.
Just as I was about to turn back to the stage, the middle-aged woman piped up, "Can you not hit me with your bag?" she blurted. I was taken back, both by her rudeness but also the logical inconsistencies.
"Sorry, I was actually going to ask if you could please stop pushing me." I retorted.
"No, your bag is hitting me!" she continued.
Resisting the urge to roll my eyes, I explained that I hadn't moved an inch.
"But your BAG did! Every time you move, your bag hits me." She continued relentlessly before I could continue. The young Asian male behind her piped up at this point.
"Hey hey, this is Ethan's mom." He intervened with noticeable hostility. Frankly, I wasn't sure of the meaning behind this statement. Was I expected to cower in fear? To suddenly yield and offer her a closer position to the stage?
I persisted with my stance, "I didn't move. If the bag hit you, you can move back." Had any of the three blockheads bothered to contemplate the situation practically, they would comprehend that, if I haven't shifted laterally and had maintained my position since the start of the show, the only way for them to be impacted by my rotational movements is if they had moved closer towards me.
Excuses were then tossed in my direction:
"If I move back, I'll hit the girl." the woman pointed towards two young ladies that were clearly beyond her 3 ft bubble and too petrified to move closer.
"You can put your bag down!" pressed the male. Naturally, I responded that this made no sense, as bags get trampled when crowds push, only to have him glare in retaliation with a "Does it look like anyone is pushing right now?!"
The ignorance was honestly appalling.
"Look, we all paid to be here." I resorted to calm presentation of facts, only to be interrupted with "We didn't pay. We're his family."
"That's great?" I thought, "What's your point? If you were so high and mighty, why not ask your beloved son to arrange reserved seating for you? Why bother standing in the crowd with the rest of us peasants?"
My patience was being tested. "What do you want?!" It was my turn to sharpen my gaze.
"Put your bag down!" He ordered.
"Yeah, put your bag down!" chimed the chubby girl behind him.
By this point, I was done entertaining family drama and turned away. The trio threatened to call security such that I would place the bag on the floor. Realistically, security would not advocate for trip hazards to be created unnecessarily, especially where media teams are constantly traversing. Moreover, had I been a larger person and the bag been a part of my body, I doubt I'd have been requested to slice a portion of my body off for their benefit.
The new generation's approach to conflict resolution was definitely one to scoff at. Derelict of discussion and compromise, they had resorted to pressure and manipulation. The scene had understandably left a vivid impression of the artist I had been so enthralled to see in concert. While it would be unfair to assume identical traits across the board, it is undeniable that one's upbringing and surroundings contribute heavily to personal development.
Notwithstanding this knowledge, I was determined to enjoy the rest of the show as planned, even with the awkwardness of filming beside the artist's mother. My role of the day was that of a mere supporter - nothing more, nothing less.
"If I move back, I'll hit the girl." the woman pointed towards two young ladies that were clearly beyond her 3 ft bubble and too petrified to move closer.
"You can put your bag down!" pressed the male. Naturally, I responded that this made no sense, as bags get trampled when crowds push, only to have him glare in retaliation with a "Does it look like anyone is pushing right now?!"
The ignorance was honestly appalling.
"Look, we all paid to be here." I resorted to calm presentation of facts, only to be interrupted with "We didn't pay. We're his family."
"That's great?" I thought, "What's your point? If you were so high and mighty, why not ask your beloved son to arrange reserved seating for you? Why bother standing in the crowd with the rest of us peasants?"
My patience was being tested. "What do you want?!" It was my turn to sharpen my gaze.
"Put your bag down!" He ordered.
"Yeah, put your bag down!" chimed the chubby girl behind him.
By this point, I was done entertaining family drama and turned away. The trio threatened to call security such that I would place the bag on the floor. Realistically, security would not advocate for trip hazards to be created unnecessarily, especially where media teams are constantly traversing. Moreover, had I been a larger person and the bag been a part of my body, I doubt I'd have been requested to slice a portion of my body off for their benefit.
The new generation's approach to conflict resolution was definitely one to scoff at. Derelict of discussion and compromise, they had resorted to pressure and manipulation. The scene had understandably left a vivid impression of the artist I had been so enthralled to see in concert. While it would be unfair to assume identical traits across the board, it is undeniable that one's upbringing and surroundings contribute heavily to personal development.
Notwithstanding this knowledge, I was determined to enjoy the rest of the show as planned, even with the awkwardness of filming beside the artist's mother. My role of the day was that of a mere supporter - nothing more, nothing less.
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Ethan jumped onto the stage at 9:20 PM sharp, commencing the show with a live orchestral version of GEMINI.
He proceeded with a few more songs, including a stunning band edition of NWYK, before inviting Koven to join him onstage. MIDNIGHT was performed in perfect harmony. Afterwards, Ethan disappeared for an outfit swap, leaving Koven to take the stage with an unreleased demo track. Despite the comprehensive hair, makeup, and outfit styling, he did not reside for more than one song, causing much to be desired in the absence of LIPSTICK and EVERYTHING IS RED, the most memorable track from their opening segment at Junny's concert.
He proceeded with a few more songs, including a stunning band edition of NWYK, before inviting Koven to join him onstage. MIDNIGHT was performed in perfect harmony. Afterwards, Ethan disappeared for an outfit swap, leaving Koven to take the stage with an unreleased demo track. Despite the comprehensive hair, makeup, and outfit styling, he did not reside for more than one song, causing much to be desired in the absence of LIPSTICK and EVERYTHING IS RED, the most memorable track from their opening segment at Junny's concert.
The spraying of water had likely been prohibited by the venue, as the scene remained dry even during the most upbeat performances of the evening. Jumping, waving of hands, and flashlight trances hadn't been excluded, however.
Transitioning effortlessly between ments, songs, and interactions with the instrumental teams, it was obvious that Ethan was the main artist of the evening. He confidently trekked across of the stage and engaged the audience with ease. The show was impeccable, and oddly punctual too. I was most pleased to have heard my favourites of NWYK and, of course, UNREQUITED.
The final song of the evening was none other than BUBBLY, followed by an orchestral rendition as the encore.
The final song of the evening was none other than BUBBLY, followed by an orchestral rendition as the encore.
When the show concluded, all artists hung out the hall conducting fan and friend interactions. I succeeded in snapping a photo with Ethan, who looked fatigued and hurried. He quickly disappeared from the scene, while the Opening Act artists, Pino and Reggie Becton, hung around. The aura was unmistakably different from when I had first encountered him at Junny.
Koven was found at the centre of a group of excited fangirls, joyfully conversing. A nearby member of staff had brought along photocards for his signature, embracing the full K-Pop idol regime.
Koven was found at the centre of a group of excited fangirls, joyfully conversing. A nearby member of staff had brought along photocards for his signature, embracing the full K-Pop idol regime.
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Being a new addition to the downtown entertainment scene, TD Music Hall was surprisingly pristine and organized. The washroom facilities were sleek and modern, and amazingly did not reek of ickiness.
The stairwell, the egress we had opted for in place of a sluggish elevator, was equally clean. The spacious corridor featured smooth lacquered steps and tactile plates at the top of each flight.
The stairwell, the egress we had opted for in place of a sluggish elevator, was equally clean. The spacious corridor featured smooth lacquered steps and tactile plates at the top of each flight.
Braving the negative double-digits, we meandered along Shuter towards the Eaton Centre. To my surprise, the mall doors remained open for pedestrian travel. We succeeded in recovering some degree of warmth before plunging back into the great outdoors.
My concert partner and I parted ways at Bay just north of Queen. While she would continue southbound towards Union Station, I ventured northwest in wait of pickup by my former carpooling partner. Around 11:10 PM, we began the westward trip home.
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