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St. Brawl-tholomew's Breakfast
April 11, 2006 - 12:04 p.m.

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Oh, joy. Oh, rapture.

Today was my last "why does this time even exist?" early morning at the breakfast ministry. This morning, for what I sincerely hope will be the last time, I dragged my sorry behind out of bed at 3:30am and caught the night bus and streetcar to the scary hood.

And it was scary today.

My journey to St. Bart's is accomplished in two stages, the first of which takes me to the top of Roncesvalles. I have (had, he-he, had!) a ten minute "layover" and usually bought an orange juice and a muffin at the 24-hour McDonalds situated in Dundas West station.

This morning, in addition to the usual stereotypical wise janitor and smart-ass night cook, there were three thugs at Cafe McFood. I don't know if they consider themselves thugs (thugz?) but I certainly did...huge coats, baseball caps on sideways, chunky diamond earrings, pants down around their knees, etc. They stared at me as I walked in, as if I was the dangerous and suspicious looking one. Yeah, I'm a big threat. Maybe if I had a tire iron to go with my spare tire. Lucky me, these thugs were either the non-aggressive variety or (at 4am) too tired from a night of keepin' in real to bother me. They settled for glaring menacingly, to which I responded with a friendly smile. Can't stab a guy who's smiling at you, eh?

Arriving in Regent Park, I have (had, ha!) a two-block walk through gangland. At 4:25am this is not a fun thing. (Notice that I waited until I was done to write about this? I've held off for the sake of my mother's nerves. You're welcome, Mom.) The walk was relatively quiet when I started the breakfast ministry, back in January. Back then it was so cold that even hardcore thugs were snuggled in their beds. As the weather has warmed up, however, the streets have become less desolate. On one hand this is comforting...at least there are witnesses. After all, someone has to tell the reporter, "I don't know what that idiot was doing walking around down here alone at 4:25am."

Fortunately most of my fellow denizens were of the lurking persuasion. They don't want to be seen and ID'd, so they keep their distance. But there was always someone who followed me. (It was a different person every day...I think.) Maybe he's just going south on Parliament and I happen to be in front of him. Maybe he's heading to St. Bart's, too. Maybe he's eyeing me up for a mugging. Whatever, once the weather warmed up I never walked alone. Although I'm pretty sure I was never in danger, the mind can invent some convincing scenarios in the wee hours. And so, heart racing, muscles tensed, I arrived at church. It's an invigorating way to start the day, no?

Pant, pant, pant. Whew!

For months now, once I got to St. Bart's, all was calm. There were some crazy people and even a couple aggressive sorts, but I never felt like I or anyone else there was in real danger.

Until today. Wouldn't you know it, on my last day we have a blow-up.

I don't know how it started...by the time I noticed that something was wrong there were two guys shouting at one another, posturing like fighting cocks and pacing like caged animals. It seems that one guy's girlfriend said or did something to anger the other guy and, rather than sensibly shutting up, she kept egging him on. The first intelligible thing I heard, besides "I'm gonna mess you up!" was "You're gonna get your man killed if you don't shut up!"

She certainly seemed willing to get this guy killed.

Two silverbacks vying for dominance wouldn't bother me so much. I'd not want to mop up the blood, but really...once one wins it's over. The problem today was that each guy had friends and the friends, rather than doing what a good friend does and holding their man back, started lining up for a fight. I had visions of a full-out brawl, which isn't a good way to end a graded internship...Liturgical Skill, A; Pastoral Presence, B+; Administrative Skills, A; Keeping Breakfast Guests From Killing Each Other, D-.

At this point it's valuable to reflect on the social and political realities of Europe in the early 1900's. What did France, Russia, Germany, Britain, Canada and the U.S. have to do with the assassination of Archduke Ferdinand? Nothing. Nada. Zip. What did these friends (or, for that matter, the boyfriend) have to do with the trouble-making girlfriend and the trouble she made? Nothing. Nada. Zip. I'm guessing these folks didn't learn from history, since they seemed determined to repeat it...albeit on a small scale and in our church basement.

Anyhow, a shove here, a push there and I was shouting at the top of my lungs, "I'm calling the police!" While it didn't exactly have the "cockroaches running for the cracks" effect I'd wanted, the tension did reduce to a simmer. At least they went back to telling one another how dead the other one was rather than actively seeking to bring about that state of affairs. Then the combatants and allies saw me talking on the phone and eventually one party melted away.

Naturally, by the time the police arrived the place was entirely quiet. I suppose I looked a prat, having called the boys in blue for a fight long since past. (Note: Toronto police have cool pants, with a red stripe running down the side. Very sharp.) Still, they were a reassuring presence...especially one of them, who must have been 12 feet tall and carved directly out of the side of a mountain. I'd done nothing illegal and I was a bit scared of him.

After describing the almost-incident I mentioned that they might, as part of their division's increased foot patrols, drop in on Tuesday and Thursday mornings for a cup of (bad) coffee and a check-up on the state of things. I was handed a trouble report/presence request form to fill out...ah, the modern police force. Still, I think I'll fill it out. If the police are going to be visiting the hood, they might as well have a cup of (bad) coffee to start their day.

After that the guy who refused to wake up (until I threw water in his face...it works, just like in the movies!) and the rat in the pantry and the guy who'd climbed the gate to sleep on the children's centre stairs...well, it all just fit. Clearly God had noticed that my breakfast stint had gone by without incident and he wanted to shake it up, just enough for me to learn something.

And what did I learn? Never get involved in a land war in Asia.

Goodnight.

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