One of the very unfortunate facts about Toronto is that no subway line extends to the airport. I can't decide whether it is a passive-aggressive knock at tourists, or a criminally negligent oversight. It is a one hour subway ride from Coxwell to Kipling, a journey made bearable (this time) by a clever innovation of mine: bringing along some specialist readings. From Kipling, it is another half-hour on a bus to the airport itself, followed by the security shuffle and zoned boarding of the 767. My seat? 47. That's out of 50. Finally, three hours after it began, my journey to seat 47 comes to and end, and the six hour flight to Amsterdam commences. The plane lifts off at 17:00 and lands seven hours later at 06:00. This time dilation (compression?) is just such that I have to get up when I'm starting to feel tired enough to sleep. It's dark at 06:00 in Amsterdam.
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