Well here we sit at Terminal One Toronto; our adventure almost tangible-the flavor of our trip teasingly waved under our noses and then snatched away, ‘no trip for you’, said Air Canada, or at least not yet. We left this morning in a rush- (as always,) my dad came down early to pick us up and ended up waiting for us to drag our 101 bags, bits and pieces, and bikes downstairs, onto to a rush to sit in traffic, crawling along the Gardiner Expressway. I won’t miss that commute in the morning, with people and their barely concealed rage. The check in process went well enough; our hockey bags each weighed 60 lbs, plus our bikes, and other bags-the nice Air Canada lady let us through without having to pay extra. For the 18th time I forgot to check my Swiss army knife before flying; it’s become somewhat of a traveling ritual for me; if I don’t have to defend myself as an innocent, and not someone who has terroristic tendencies, I feel like my travel experience is incomplete. My girly private ...