That was the worst commute of my entire life

I no longer fear death, for I have seen Hell. Toronto was beset by a series of catastrophes last night, combining to form a gigantic super catastrophe. In no particular order:

  1. It snowed. Not just any snow, either. It apparently carried some sort of an evil wizard's curse, and turned everyone it touched into a gibbering moron. All over the city, otherwise high-functioning adults have lost the ability to speak, articulate simple desires, or operate in concert with their fellow humans.
  2. The population of the city trebled, at least judging by the subway platform at Dundas West. And as the number of people swelled, they all got crankier.
  3. Large lakes have developed at the corners of major intersections, forcing commuters to swim or, if they were lucky enough to have one at hand, canoe to their offices. I have dubbed the lake on the Northwest corner of Bay and Bloor Loch Graeme, and I lay claim to the vast mineral resources beneath its surface.

For those of you keeping track, this is the second Harbingers of the Apocalypse post this week, and it's only Wednesday. If we hit three, then official Nunc Scio policy says the world has officially ended.

When it snows that much in Toronto, your only hope is to put on your snowboard pants and plow through the blizzard. You may have to cross country ski to work and walk the rest of the way in your ski boots. Mountains of snow may not be fun, but it doesn't have to slow you down.