ciroccoj | WiFi again! Cool!

1:16: Arriving at Union Station. Pssst: don’t stand there gaping like the little kid in Witness.
1:30: First impression of Osgoode Hall: Holy COW is that what LSUC buys with lawyer money? No wonder everyone’s pissed. You could house a medium-sized Upper Canada village in there.

Oh. I guess it’s also the Court of Appeal and other stuff. Never mind!

Still pretty posh, though.
1:35: You don’t have my legal name on record.

Funny, you didn’t have it when I started law school, so I had to send it to you, then you didn’t have it when I finished the professionalism course so I sent you another one, then you didn’t have it three weeks ago so I sent another copy... what, does it have teflon or something?

And how smart was I, to make sure to bring my citizenship card in case I encountered this precise problem? It’s got a name I haven’t used since I was twelve, and a face I haven’t used since I was ten, but it’s the only thing y’all will take so go me for bringing it. Just glad I didn’t have to dig out my parents’ birth certificates as well.

Nice ladies behind the counter very apologetic and scurrying around to file my citizenship card (for the fourth time) and so sorry for the inconvenience. And I’m all Sweetie, I don’t care, I’m just happy this is doable. My nightmare was that I’d have to go back to Ottawa to get you my parents’ marriage records, get them notarized and bring them back personally. You’re telling me the card is on file (again!) and I can sign the Rolls and get my package and go home? I LOVE YOU. You just made my day.
1:45: Well, there we go. Back to Union Station. Walking through downtown Toronto gazing at the huge skyscrapers and astounding conflagration of names that include the words “Financial,” “Investments,” “International,” “Corporate,” and “Bespoke.” I am struck by how many of my classmates at Ottawa U started out saying they wanted to help people and work for Lawyers Without Borders and ended up competing fiercely to get into Bay Street law firms that pepper the landscape I am traveling through. And for no reason I can divine, the phrase that pops in my mind is “in the belly of the Beast.” Oh and “OMG get me OUT.”
2:00: There’s all these banners flying around for TIFF. Which amuses me, ‘cause that’s the acronym used by the Toronto International Film Festival too. I wonder what kind of investment firm/bank/museum/ultra-trendy store has the same initials, and whether people ever get confused between them and the film festival. I walk past one banner and peer at more closely, curious as to what the letters stand for. There it is: “Toronto International Film Festival.”

::ahem::
3:00: Going down into the belly of another beast, I’m downstairs at The Eatery (sounds more posh when you give it capitals) where there’s a Tim Hortons staffed entirely by south-east Asians, and Sandwich Box staffed by Mediterranean-looking folks, and an Opa! Souvlaki of Greece staffed entirely by people speaking Japanese. Nobody’s behind the counter at Szechuan Express. I can hear my father’s voice suggesting that perhaps they’re Latinos, as it is, after all, siesta time.

Is it OK to make stereotyping jokes about your own ethnic group? I'm of two minds over this.
So. 2.5 hours before my train departs for Ottawa. What shall I do?