LIFE: Clueless

I was reading Earl Pomerantz's blog today at http://earlpomerantz.blogspot.com. Earl's an ex-pat Canuck and one of the funniest TV writers ever. His blog has, thus far, been a funny re-hashing about how he fell into the biz.

Today, he told of a time when he unwittingly took residence at an apartment complex that, as it turned out, fashioned as a home for Call Girls. He didn't know, he was that naive.

My naivety story involves a cold wintry night back in the eighties, driving home from announcing a Toronto Tornados game. (The Tornados were a Continental Basketball Association team, owned remotely by Ted Stepien. Stepien was the Cleveland guy who had almost run the Cavaliers into the ground and out of town ... to Toronto)

The usual routine was to drive to the nearest end of the Toronto subway system, take the subway to Varsity Stadium and reverse the process to get back to my home in beautiful downtown Bramalea. To get to the subway, I had to drive down Airport Road, past Toronto International Airport and the hotel row that existed there.

So, it's sleeting and being generally miserable when I spot a woman with an umbrella ambling down the sidewalk. Maybe she was more than ambling. It was cold and wet and miserable. It seemed inhumane to just drive by and let this fellow human just keep on walking. For all I knew, she might be dazed and confused and in need of help.

I pulled over, rolled down the window and asked if she needed help getting to wherever she was going. Turned out it was the Constellation Hotel, about a half-mile down from where we were. "Get in, I'll drive you there," I told her.

The icy blast from her opening the door was proof enough that it was a good thing that I had offered aid. It was miserable out there. She said thank you upon getting in, but was huffing and puffing too much to engage in much conversation. The whole trip lasted maybe two minutes, before I pulled into the oval driveway at the Constellation (where my mother once worked).

"There you are," I said, stopping the car right in front of the front doors. My passenger looked a little confused.

"Aren't you going to park?" she asked. I shook my head. "We can't do it here," she said with some dismay.

"What do you mean ...."

That's when I got it.

"... ohhhhhhh. Sorry, I was just offering a ride. I thought you needed help."

She opened the door and got out, thanking me for my consideration on the way. And with that, ended my one and only hookup with a prostitute.