While I’m at It…

…oh my! The Armdale Rotary! Something that must have been designed by a drunken civil servant in the 1950s. And something that just can’t handle the traffic anymore.

But that’s not the worse. You see, for a rotary to work, drivers mustn’t stop once in the rotary. But there’s this unwritten rule of Armdale Rotary Etiquette whereby everyone is supposed to take turns. Therefore, even if a driver is in the rotary, there’s an expectation that he or she should allow one car from each artery to enter as one drives by, effectively forcing this driver to stop in the rotary. Except there are those drivers who write their own rule, which is “Race into the rotary without looking if any cars are coming”; consequently, a driver who’s in the rotary better be prepared to stop or accept that he or she stands a good chance of being creamed. So you have three sets of rules, with the correct rules (i.e., those that apply to any rotary elsewhere) being ignored, resulting in mass confusion amidst gridlock.

Fortunately, the only time I need to go through the Armdale Rotary is when I go to Crystal Crescent Beach in the summer…

Over on the Dartmouth side of the harbour, there used to be the Micmac Rotary, which locals affectionately called the Mishmash Rotary. But there’s more open space on the Dartmouth side, so we now have what’s known as the Micmac parclo (i.e., partial clover leaf). Such a change is impossible for the Armdale, though. To understand why, you need to consider how the old city of Halifax in fact occupies a relatively small, densely developed peninsula.

Pedestrian Xing

Here’s another peculiarity about Halifax: The Queen of Sheba and I believe that, if one were to drop a bunch of typical Haligonian pedestrians in another, larger city anywhere on Earth, they would be dead in a very short period of time. Indeed, the Queen and I suspect that the mental age of far too many pedestrians in this town is about 3 years, give or take a year.

I don’t know if this is true or just an urban legend, but…

…I’ve been told that a young girl was fatally hit by a car in the early ’80s while crossing Brunswick Street, in front of Citadel Hill, as crowds dispersed from a popular celebration (either Canada Day or Natal Day). This sad incident resulted in a public outcry about how Haligonian drivers had become as reckless as those in Montreal, a city whose drivers are reputed for their aggressiveness. Better crosswalks and an awareness campaign followed, which is a good thing, I say. After all, no one wants their city to be known as a place where pedestrians take their life into their own hands just for crossing the street.

But today, whenever I have friends visiting Halifax and they plan to drive around town, I warn them about the pedestrians. “It doesn’t matter if there’s a crosswalk or not, or if the signal light gives drivers the right of way,” I say to them. “Pedestrians will just cross if they damn well feel like it.”

“Expect pedestrians to jump onto the street, from any point and seemingly nowhere, and then take their grand ol’ time crossing the street,” I continue. “And don’t bother pointing out their mistake, either kindly or rudely, because they’ll just look at you as if you have three heads on your shoulders. That’s because they firmly believe they always have the right of way.”

So drop a bunch of typical Haligonian pedestrians on the corner of Sainte-Catherine and Saint-Laurent in Montreal, and I assure you their demise would be swift. Most viewers of Sesame Street have a better sense of how crossing the street can be dangerous. And drivers in Halifax, if their nerves aren’t shot by now, must have the patience of Job.

Eau de P.U.

This is old news, but for several years now, Halifax has been known as the North American “Scent Free” capital. Read a few articles about it for some background on the subject, from both opponents and those who favour this status.

Now. Why am I bothering to blog about something that’s such old news? And where do I stand on this issue?

Simple.

I think it stinks.

When I spend some time in my favorite Canadian city, I notice the difference. People — men and women — smell good in Montreal. They know they’re supposed to wear cologne, not bathe in it.

I’m in favour of restraint and I practice it, too. But that’s just it: I’m one of those defiant Haligonians. I don’t seek to make sick those for whom fragrances legitimately make sick, but I don’t believe that so many in Halifax (or this whole blasted province, for that matter) are as sensitive as they claim they are.

Come on, Halifax! Give me a freakin’ break! I guess doing things in good measure is too tough a concept for you to grasp, though. It has to be all or nothing.

But here’s my news flash for the day, Halifax: Body odour is just as sickening even though it’s “natural.”

(Filed under “On My Mind & Tits” because you stink and I want you OFF my tits before I gag!)