There used to be a beautiful building here, but it was ravaged by a fire some years ago. The facade still intact, but the insides crumbled and charred, the building was boarded off and you could only catch a glimpse of it over the top of the scaffolding. For a while, if you paid attention to the local news, you would hear reports of the ongoing discussions between the developer and the municipality; the developer wanting to tear it down, the municipality trying to preserve the heritage structure (so many others like it had disappeared long ago). The conversation about the future of this building seemed locked in a stalemate, the building itself stood silent, partially obscured from passerbys, as if it being out-of-sight would result in its disappearance from our everyday concerns. And then one day, the building was gone. All that remained was a pile of rubble. Perhaps the preservation of this building was too costly for this economic clime. Whatever the reason for its demise, I was saddened by its loss. I was rooting for the building. I wanted it to remain a part of the streetscape, transformed into something new. Who knows what will take its place.

Even so, energy is still low, as this post is not all that exciting or original. But one has to start again somewhere. And after many months of silence here, something is better than nothing.

Resuming my (once) daily constitutional was like a return of an old friend. I kept to my regular route, crossing the bridge along with the power walkers, joggers and cyclists.

What I did not see were any of the regulars. I know spring won’t have officially arrived until I come across the Roller King, the city’s oldest rollerskater with his matching neon shorts and headband. I wonder where he goes to rollerskate during the winter? Perhaps he put his skates to hibernate like I did this blog.

I left the apartment during the early part of the afternoon, when many people were likely finishing Sunday brunch or waking up from a luxurious extended sleep. On the way back through the park, there were people sitting scattered on the benches.

This particular fellow sat alone, perhaps dreaming of the time when all the snow would be gone and the fitness boot camps would resume on the grass. His spot would surely provide him with prime viewing of all the lunges and knee bends and side stretches. If only that old sports injury didn’t prevent him from joining in, he might be up there too, stretching longer, bending deeper, lunging farther than the rest of them. But then of course, that’s probably how he got injured in the first place. Maybe he should just stick to spectator sports.

I noticed that we had reached that time of night where the apartments we were walking past were lit up like living lightboxes. It was just at that moment before the people inside had realized that the lack of light outside had made it possible to see in past the glass of their balcony doors, past the glazing of their energy efficient windows, straight into their homes. It was almost as if every apartment building was a lifesize dollhouse, the kind where you could reach out and open the front panel, exposing all the rooms hidden behind. Sometimes life is like that, it takes on a cinematic quality, your eyes replace the camera and as you pan across the scene, the movie moves with you. But moments like that are fleeting, before you can fully appreciate it you are moving steadfastly towards your destination and you leave that frame behind you.

This picture is not representative of the experience. Neither of us had Ginger Ale and the pop wasn't from a can. I just like pictures.

Watching football in a bar it was only appropriate to order a beer and wings. Thankfully it is happy hour (another rant, it should be called happy day or happy hours) all day on Sunday so the wings were cheap, (so were the mini burgers and they were delicious). The only issue was that, having to go back to work after and requiring a clear head, abstaining from beer was the best option for me;therefore, I opted for pop.

Our food came, our drinks came (my second iced tea was crazy week as the syrup was running out), we ate, we watched, we asked for our bill. $7 for each entree (happy hour indeed) of which we had two, and the bill is around $22. What’s going on there we asked? The answer is that pop and Hudson’s Canadian Tap house is $3.25! Bend me backward, that’s steep. I’m interested to know what Brewser’s charges but according to Kelsey’s website they charge $2.79 for bottomless pop (still really steep). It would have been 75 cents more to get a beer at Hudson’s, what is this europe?!

I understand that drink sales are where the money is made but the mark-up on soda (when it’s literally pennies a glass) is out of control! Something about the three dollar threshold; once you get over that you think to yourself, I could buy so much for $3. I could, for example, buy a case of pop if on sale or I could buy one and a half coffee’s. You can provide more examples of $3 purchases in the comments if you so desire.

So, I’m not going to buy soda from restaurants (unless I’m out of control desperate or it’s Red Robbin Dr. Pepper, damn that’s good fountain pop). The problem, as I see it, is that by pricing your cheap item so unreasonably the rest of your menu is devalued and somewhat invalidated. If a restaurant where to charge a reasonable fee for items that you know the cost of (eg. pop, coffee, ice cream) then the consumer would assume that all the other prices were in line with actual costs. It’s a crazy idea but it just might work. If my coffee cost a dollar but my calamari cost $12 I’d be okay with it because I never buy calamari and have no idea what it costs I’ll just assume it’s fair.

So, I’m sure it’s not just Hudson’s but that $3 factor kicked in and I was incensed. The worst part is that I’m willing to pay for something if I know the price but I didn’t see the price of fountain soda indicated on their menu. I bought something assuming a certain price range based on previously socialized experience and what I received didn’t fit within my range of acceptability.

So, Hudson’s, the food was good (though slow because of football, a busy bar, and lack of servers), the atmosphere was fine, but either lower your pop prices or start making it a little well known to customers. Perhaps servers could say, “just so you know, pop is $3.25 and for only 75 cents more you could be on your way to a buzz.”

But, that’s just my 325 cents.