Tip of the Post:
Visit Harambe Ethiopian Cuisine on Commercial Drive! For those of you who live on campus, just grab the 99 B-Line from the bus loop and take it all the way to the last stop. It’s a SkyTrain station – easy enough to recognize. Harambe is about one block up the street and across the road from where you get off the bus. You’ll get a unique group dining experience (who doesn’t love to eat with their hands?) and a lot of deliciously spiced lentils, beef, lamb, and vegetables. If you’re like me and sick of carbo-loading at the caf, then this restaurant provides you with plentiful, all natural protein at a low cost of approximately $10.00 per person.
I was ecstatic when I found out we were going to Harambe for our floor dinner last night. I had already been quite a few times and was getting sick of coating all of my meals in black pepper – doesn’t taste great and my friends bother me for it.
On the bus home, while Kayla and I were grooving to some Kanye West and Timbaland (I don’t know what came over me… I may need to be institutionalized), I happened to be looking around at all the ads on the bus. Incidentally, I find it hilarious that ELSA (English Language Service for Adults) advertises their “Learn English now! Don’t you want to understand your grandchildren?!” campaign in English.
Suddenly, I was startled by a slam against the back of my seat. I jumped and was greeted with the “Oh, sorry” typical of Canadians who are apologetic for everything.
Now, if you’re a close friend of mine, you’re familiar with the following rant:
“I just don’t get it! Why do we apologize for everything? It’s so stupid! Whenever I open the door to walk into a washroom while somebody else is exiting, we do this awkward stutter-step and apologize profusely for getting in each others way! If I bump someone’s hand while reaching for the feta in the salad bar, they repent! Yesterday, I was on the bus and somebody stepped on my foot and I said sorry! Like, “Oh my God, I can’t believe my foot just got in the way of your foot! Please forgive me!”. Except I wasn’t even being sarcastic! Do you know how weird this is?”
Last night, however, I saw the flip-side. Post apology, I mumbled something about him not having to worry about it, that I was just looking around etc… when he shocked me with a:
“Actually, you know what? I’m really not sorry”
in this uber-grouch voice.
Of the top-ten things I least expected to happen in that moment, that was number three. And it only missed out on a higher spot because I really didn’t forsee the ancient Chinese woman four seats up leaping out of her seat and performing a strip tease using the articulated section of the bus as her stage. I also didn’t expect the planet to explode, sending a trillion pieces of Lindsay careening into the cosmos.
So you can imagine my surprise at this retraction of the most basic Canadian instinct.
And now that I’ve experienced the awkward, gross feeling of it all, I can promise I will never be a critic of apologies again.
In conclusion, I would like to say sorry, désolée, perdon, scusa, izvini, gomen, afedersin, aasfa, patawad… to any and all that I have criticized for apologizing. I know we’re all just trying to be polite.
Love,
Lindsay
