Why does it sound like we're in a submarine?

Good Thursday? It's the start of patio season and I'd like to address the issue of camping. squatting. table renting. riding the glorified lawn chair. God love Torontonians (Torontonites?) they can drink some beer at 12 on a Thursday. Good lord were those some cheap ass bankers. A section FULL of Prada bags, designer sunglasses, veneered teeth, blackberries, and not a smart (Or personable) patio-er in the bunch. If you plan on sitting on a patio all day that's fine, in fact it's encouraged. If you plan on smoking like a freight train, griping about how you don't get laid, informing everyone at the table how you shit gold and you and only you invented not only fire, but also the condom, the English language, post it notes, and the internet please, do close out your bill or don't ask to speak to a manager at the mere MENTION of giving you your bill actually you know what, don't sit in my section. I love love love working outside, I really do. Nothing makes me happier than the sun on my face. One thing I love more than working outside is getting to sleep in my car on my break between splits. I commute 45 minutes to work everyday and the idea of working 13 hours without a true break makes my brain dribble out my ears but it does happen. If you're going to keep me waiting on you please, tip me more than 10% on your business AMEX. Please, yes your English accents are charming but your Prada bag, Gucci sunglasses and that huge rock on your finger tells me you know how to spend money. I've never been talented in the ways of encouraging people to get the hell out. If you have tips on it please, let me know.
I suppose I should explain the title. As I was walking through (more than elbowing my way and pushing little 100 pound girls aside) the bar I got to the server station and realized that horrible clanging and pinging was coming from the sound system. I swear it sounded like we were on the Kursk. I said "What the hell is that god awful noise, I'm expecting us to spring a leak soon" I was informed we were in fact listening to pink floyd. I may be shot for saying this but I really think they're overrated just like I feel the same way about Radiohead. So aside from loving my stoner co workers I love love love our cooks. Not only do they defend me when the closers get their panties in a wad about cutlery they also do just about anything I ask. Including hugging me when I look pissy, and throwing food at me while making some awesomely dirty jokes. If you've not experienced the server brand of sexual harassment you're missing out.

Can you smell what Environment Canada is cooking?

Excuse the recent plague of spelling errors in my posts, many of them have been from my phone which is surprisingly stupid despite it's misnomer and "smart phone". Moving on the Iphone in conjunction with Yahoo! tells me the forecast of Toronto next week features sunny skies and highs of 13 degrees Celsius which may or may not be greek to many readers. To me this translates to 55 degrees possibly 65 degrees based on the inaccuracy of environment Canada and....PATIO SEASON!!!! I'm currently scheduled for 2 12-5 straight through doubles next week. While officially illegal by Ontario labor board standards I've not heard a single server in Toronto complaining about these shifts. It means 12-14 hours on continuous serving time in the sun! For Canadians the chance to make some vitamin D and be paid for it is like mana from heaven.
In Atlanta working on the patio meant mosquitoes, sweating, 2 months of enjoyable work and potential heat stroke not to mention the possibility of the legendary pop up storms. These storms could and would blow the shingles off a house as well as all the cutlery off a patio table in a matter of minutes. Here in Canada patio season means $$ and the promise of constant business. Last year I was downtown for busker fest. The busker fest is a sort of street fair in which talented street artists from all over the world come to Toronto to show their talents and (if I'm not mistaken) all their profits go to charity. I walked around last year in awe of the sheer amount of bodies on the streets. I saw the amount of people at restaurants near the site of the festival and marveled at their business. This year I'm working at one of these destinations. I am both excited at the prospect of making money and dreading the stupidly long shifts. The idea of DYING to get in the back to gobble down whatever leftovers you managed to bring with you after last night's drunken cooking escapades or whatever remnants you can salvage of the lunch you ordered 3 hours ago is not really pee down your leg exciting. Sure, you can order food but the guarantee of 10 minutes to each lunch is a myth, much like the female organism or a tax return. The only thing more cut throat than a server near rent time is a hostess with a wait for the patio.

YAY SUMMER!