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Slack.com slash DHQ. The traffic was heavy in downtown Toronto during rush hour. Driving

slowly we made our way along roads crammed with other cars, bike messengers, street cars,

and J-walking pedestrians. Tall buildings towered over us all around. Glass walled skyscrapers

in concrete behemoths. Stopped at a red light adjacent to an alley, the stench of a dumpster

overfilled with weak old seafood waste. Used diapers wafted over. Making me gag. We were

on our way to a baseball game and my brother had found a cheap parking lot online. The

only catch was that it was a bit of a hike to the Roger Center where the Blue Jays played

their games. It was taken forever to get to the discount parking place, immersed in the

heavy traffic. At one point it took us 15 minutes just to make a right turn due to the

constant crush of pedestrians and car traffic. It was a hot day. I was getting sick of driving,

sick of other people flaunting their utter content for every single traffic law. Not

dimension basic human decency. The idea of 30 more minutes fighting through city streets

was too much to bear. I pulled into the next underground parking garage I saw, telling

my brother no, that I would pay whatever the cost was myself. He looked shocked. This

place would be like triple the cost. He shrugged it off and said, do what I liked. The steel

sliding door rolled up on its tracks to let us in. They closed down, shut behind us,

drenching the tunnel in near total darkness. I had to stop the car, turning on my headlights

...