Political Correctness

Olga Wolstenholme's picture

The Underbelly of Political Correctness

Let me go on the record and say that it is incredibly, torturously cold in Montreal right now. The kind of day where you don’t go outside unless it’s absolutely necessary. Unfortunately for me, I had to go buy myself some food. On my way to Provigo I went, trying not to freeze to death on the way there. I soon gave up walking and decided to take shelter inside a bus stop. Almost every person who walked by was swearing to God.

I was waiting for the bus by myself for an eternity (ten minutes at most) when an older lady joined me within our glass enclave. At the time, I was wondering when the damn bus would show up, but I did not want to expose myself to the wind and go check the schedule. The lady who was waiting with me was freaking me out a little, because she was strangely bent over behind me. I was wondering what the hell she was doing and when I took a peak, I noticed that there had been a bus schedule behind me this entire time. I also realized that this would have been useless information since I did not have a watch.

Now, while I was waiting and hoping the bus would get there as soon as possible and put me out of my cold inflicted misery, my arms where going numb from holding my scarf up around my face and I wished I had one of those full face masks with the eyes cut out. This thought, as they often do, led to another and I found myself remembering an incident that had taken place when I was in high school.

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