A SHORT (SORTA LONG) IRRELEVANT STORY ABOUT...

If you're bored, semi-fun hungry and in the mood for some mindless yet wildly entertaining entertainment - come waste some time with me. Because when I'm in the mood for some full-out, anything goes people (I like to call it stranger) watching (I like to call it staring), I hit up the bank. The Royal Bank of Canada to be exact (mostly because I have an account there, but also because the plethora of oddly intriguing people is almost too much to handle! Yes, its true. When I've got some time to kill, I sometimes frequent the long, slow moving lines of the RBC. The best time to go for maximum viewing pleasure, is the nearest you can get to 4:30 before the bank closes, because the best shit happens when there's a long line at quitting time. Not so much to make a transfer, check my account balance, or sign up for something that isn't going to help me financially, but to watch and listen to, like I mentioned before - the show. I am the only audience member in a movie that I am watching and enjoying intently while simultaneously acting in, directing, narrating and filming - with my eyes, and my brain is the editing room. Today's matinee featured a full cast of rising sure-to-be-superstar-non-aware-actors. In front of me, Mr. Me (that's me) who was in the bank for matters unknown (actually it was to stranger stare and make a meaningless withdrawal), and at the end of a long line was Mr. Nervous Chinese Man. Mr. Nervous Chinese Man was holding (more like scrunching) what looked like a bill of some sort. He was also looking around as if waiting for someone (or something) to come along and help him or perhaps even kill him. He made quick glances all around and seemed confused, nervous and maybe even a bit scared. The three tellers seemed to be taking their sweet old time a little bit more than usual today. Every single encounter occurring between "client" and "clerk" was as unique to each other as they were long and tedious affairs. On the far left of the stage, Ms. Clerk Chinese Woman was in fine form. I've never before seen someone walk so deliberately slow, from the back of the bank (why do they always have to walk so far to do the simplest things?) and then back to her kiosk or wicket or as I like to call it - desk. You could even go with table. Patiently leaning on his portion of the the dark blue table was Mr. Gold Watch Arab Man - who was standing cool, looking cool and waiting for his cash. Ms. Clerk Chinese Woman was walking so slow, that her movement looked uncomfortable, as if it would have been easier on her body if she walked at a normal no-energy-consumed speed. She finally returned with what looked like a couple of grand in one hundred dollar bills. Mr. Gold Watch Arab man smiled. Ms. Clerk Chinese Woman sort of smiled. Mr. Me smiled. And Mr. Nervous Chinese Man kept looking freaked out and scared. In the middle, working (slowly) at the second of four 'desks' from the left (only three out of the four 'desks' were in use) was Mrs. White Clerk Windsor Woman, who appeared to be trying to help Ms. Black African Woman get a loan (or so it seemed). This interactive face to face transactivation was also super duper slow going but in the end it turned out that all the client wanted was the low-down on getting a loan and in turn, Mrs. White Clerk Windsor Woman was going to write down some information for her - about the loan. With a pen. On some paper. With her hand. It took a while. Everything seemed to be moving very slowly, especially Mrs. White Clerk Windsor Woman's writing hand, and Ms. Clerk Chinese Woman's entire body, but Mr. Me didn't care because he was there after all - for the developing show. In time with the dramatic beat of the human movie thus far, the plot thickened. On the north side (far right) occupying the fourth of the three units in use was Mrs. Younger Perhaps Portuguese Woman. She continuously and perhaps unknowingly tapped her left foot and looked around slightly as Mrs. Older Shorter Eastern European Lady Clerk asked her if she wanted her change in quarters or loonies. Mr. Me could not hear Mrs. Younger Perhaps Portuguese Woman's answer, but he was hoping she'd said, "No, give 'em to me in pennies, Puta!" That was the audience member in me, sorry, back to the narrator in me. Like I said, after all, it was 4:27 and who knows what other kind of people these three totally different yet probably fairly equal in pay women - had already dealt with, throughout the day - behind their wickets. It probably wasn't pretty. At this point, Mr. Me got his first look at the person standing first in line in front of Mr. Nervous Chinese Man, who was now weirding himself out more than ever. Ms. Dark Maybe Arab Maybe Not Woman was getting antsy and also standing pretty close to Mr. Nervous Chinese Man (at first I thought maybe they were together, but soon figured out that they were not). Now, Ms. Dark Maybe Arab Maybe Not Woman had been in line for a while and she knew, just as Mr. Me and Mr. Nervous Chinese Man knew - that something was going to happen. All at once things started to happen, just like we all thought was going to happen. After what seemed like minutes, the excitement level began to build to a level not yet reached during that afternoon's performance. Now knowing what they had to do, as if their minds were hooked up to a huge invisible punch clock floating amid the RBC rafters of their minds, the three out of four woman of the wickets got down to business - with 4:30 pm ringing their ears and burning their eyes. (not literally, but their expressions did change from a rather casually apathetic one to one of intense worry). As if realizing that if they didn't pump up the action a bit so as to get out of there faster, more and more end of the day yahoos like Mr. Me and there rest of his colleagues would stream in for some ridiculous and probably unnecessary last minute banking, forcing them to work past their already generous governmentish work day. Suddenly, Mr. Gold Watch Arab Man in his calm and cool manner, spun away with his wad, simultaneously leaving the bank, leafing his bills and looking damn cool in the process. Mrs. White Clerk Windsor Woman finished scribbling and quickly ripped her note of loan help off a pad, and handed it to Ms. Black African Woman who thanked her kindly. Mrs. White Clerk Windsor Woman kindly ignored her, and, looking tired yet determined to end the day, she automatically and insincerely ushered in Ms. Dark Maybe Arab Maybe Not Woman. I don't know what happened between Mrs. White Clerk Windsor Woman and Ms. Dark Maybe Arab Maybe Not Woman but I do know what happened between Mr. Nervous Chinese Man and Mrs. Older Shorter Eastern European Lady Clerk, (sort of) who had just tidied up her exchange with the foot tapping Mrs. Younger Perhaps Portuguese Woman. At least, I think I understood this most crucial next part of the film. Mr. Nervous Chinese Man rushed up to the desk, speaking incoherently, and mumbling something to the teller. Mrs. Older Shorter Eastern European Lady Clerk looked confused, but also a little amused by this obviously distraught man's actions. "Can I help you, asked Mrs. Older Shorter Eastern European Lady Clerk. Mr. Nervous Chinese Man's next move was to lunge towards the helpless teller, his clenched bill holding hand leading the surge. Almost instantly, Mrs. Older Shorter Eastern European Lady Clerk's expression changed to more of a "what the fuck?" looking one, and then almost more instantly, Mr. Nervous Chinese Man, still jibberishing to himself about overdue flying carpet bills paid in space, stopped, spun around, pointed towards the front of the bank and ran out. "I guess not," said Mrs. Older Shorter Eastern European Lady Clerk, chuckling in her heavy yet to be determined accent. Everyone turned towards the entrance in anticipation of who or what Mr. Nervous Chinese Man was apparently trying to warn us all of. At that point, Mr. Just Another Late Banking Yahoo walked up and into the roped-in empty line. Mr. Me did his banking and left. As he was walking out he just assumed that Mr. Just Another Late Banking Yahoo had waited in the front of the of line until it was his turn, walked up to either stall one two or three, did his last minute yahoo banking and then left as did the remaining three woman clerk's - after they cleaned up their "desks," rounded up their personal belongings and made exiting pleasantries as they, well exited. End. This is just one example of the many real-life-anything-goes-live-on-the-spot-movie-sets that we walk onto day after day. Keep the camera rolling and the editing room door open.

Some others prime stranger staring spots: The mall. While waiting for your girlfriend to shop, one can, and with relative comfort, sit on different benches (depending on which retail store your g/f is in, of course), and/or those leather massage chairs found throughout the mall and enjoy differing variety of people de actionne (depending on which part of the mall you're in, of course). However, you may have to share a bench with an elderly person and their cane and people walking by will sometimes stare harder at you then you at them - and noisy, rambunctious, teenage kids can be annoying and troublesome, sometimes. Damn kids!
Volume -3/5 Variety - 3.5/5 Dependability - 4/5
Volatability - 3.5/5 Comfortability - 4.5/5

A front porch on a pleasant evening on a West Windsor street, or anywhere near downtown. You're bound to get a glimpse at every city dwelling yahoo in the book here. Like, the drunk Indian guy collecting cans, the wily mulatto prostitute, the pack of skater kids darting through traffic, the old Chinese ladies with their young grandchildren running wildly ahead, and the unemployed men on welfare riding motorized bicycles to the beer store down the street. The best feature of the front porch, is that most times, your stranger staring can go undetected. A man sitting on his porch might as well be an invisible man sitting on his porch.
Volume - 2.5/5 Variety - 4.5/5 Dependability - 2/5
Volatability - 4/5 Comfortability - 5/5

Cruising on a bicycle down Wyandotte at 4 in the afternoon. This pleasant west to east trip offers a never ending supply of some of Windsor's finest citizens - or tax burdens, however you may look at it. Pedal through the Asian, Arab, African, dive bar and smut districts. Don't be alarmed by the overwhelming percentage of lower rated viewing during your ride, for this trip is the highest rated for shock value and lowest for quality. Poor immigrant families, down and out drunks, shady businessman smoking outside of shady businesses, pregnant teenage girls pushing strollers, junkie hookers, overweight mentally challenged people in those electric carts and the odd normal person - are commonly sighted on the Wyandotte trek, but that's good because one doesn't take this trip in hopes of spotting a 'normal' person.
Volume - 3/5 Variety - 4/5 Dependability - 3.5/5
Volatability - 5/5 Comfortability - 2.5/5

Sitting in a parked car in a parking lot down by the river. Not only can you get in some really good quality stranger staring here, from the comfort of your own bucket seat, but the sunny, warm weather and picturesque views are free and boost moral. Despite being dependant on the weather forecast, the river offers somewhat different types of viewables. Athletic people and non-athletic-but-trying-people litter the pathways alongside the Detroit River. However, tranquil settings, fresh air and weird art is prone to attracting all different sorts of people - and the riverside doesn't disappoint. Homeless men, tourists and fishermen mingle with soccer moms, university students and local celebrities like A Channel's Jim Crichton.
Volume - 3/5 Variety - 5/5 Dependability - 2/5
Volatability - 1/5 Comfortability - 4.5/5