Apartment613

Photo courtesy srboisvert on flickr.

Post by Apt613 contributor Mokum.

A couple weeks ago, I asked my editor at Apt613 if she could get me on the guest list for the recent Hintonburg Arts Festival, a sort of 100-mile diet of Ottawa dance, film, poetry, music, and so on. I’ll admit I wasn’t enthusiastic about paying the $20 cover charge (even though the price was reasonable enough, considering the promise of an open bar), but that wasn’t the whole story behind my request. It’s important to remember that being on the guest list is essential to providing proper coverage of this type of thing. If Hintonburg is serious about turning itself into some kind of Soho north, we critics and associated hangers-on have to do our part as well. Thus, I resolved to attend only if I could get in and drink for free.

In the event, I ended up not attending, not because I couldn’t get in for free, but rather because the festival ran into complications with the Liquor Control Board of Ontario, resulting in the following email being sent out the evening prior to the event:

Important change to the Saturday night portion of the Festival

Last-minute difficulties with LCBO regulations mean we cannot serve or sell alcohol at the Saturday night portion of the Festival.

All programming will go forward as planned, however the entry fee has been reduced to $5 and the event is now non-alcoholic. We apologize for this change but are confident that we can still have a great night! Feel free to arrive at the event tipsy…

Pity, that. Not only had the cache of being on the guest list plunged dramatically with the cover charge, but now the beer taps would be turned off, too.  Even if one was to bring their own provisions or continuously run back and forth to the Carleton Tavern all night for booze, the party seemed at risk of running in reverse, with the crowd arriving tipsy only to become progressively more sober as the night wore on. Apart from the art stuff, it was pretty much the opposite of what I had in mind.

Just as well, I thought, as that same weekend I’d also signed up for a sailing course at Britannia Bay and was thoroughly exhausted and strung out by the end of my first day on the water. On Saturday afternoon, the winds were gusting 10-15 knots, and I was one of a boatload of novices who had little to no idea what to do about it. Neither did we know how to respond to our skipper/instructor, Laird, whose voice rose against the wind when commanding us to harden the boomvang or secure the main halyard in the ropeclutch. Sure, it was the Ottawa River, but we were nowhere if not lost at sea.

Laird gives the impression of having spent a lifetime on the water, when in fact he’s a retired eastern Ontario dairy farmer who only took up sailing a few years ago.  It was all the more remarkable, then, to hear his tales and see him demonstrate total control of our little training sloop, No Luffing Matter. At times the inner farmer would emerge, as when the sails filled with wind and he’d yell encouragingly, “Milk it – milk that sweet spot!”  Laird also smoked reliably, produced regular blasts of sailing slang, and had a phrase for just about every nautical occasion.  On pointing out the dangers of unmarked reefs and boulders in the Ottawa River, he reminded us of what the boys used to say back in WWII: it’s not the bullet with your name on it that you’ve gotta worry about, it’s the one that says “To whom it may concern.” Or, somehow changing tack to an anecdote about marital infidelities while on a run across Britannia Bay: “You know what they say about small towns – everybody knows whose cheques are good, and whose husbands are bad.”

It seems that I don’t really know how to end this little digression, except to say that I hope to attend the Hintonburg art show next year, if I haven’t drowned in the South Pacific by then.