Last night, after leaving my 5:21 chariot at Aldershot, I see a bunch of Edmonton Oilers jerseys waiting for me.

At first, I don’t see the people, just a bunch of torsos.

These chests must be heading to catch a Leaf game.

I wonder who might be their opponent.

Ha.

The Edmonton Oilers have a special place in my heart.

They were the team I cheered for when I used to care about hockey, which was before the Blue Jays won the World Series in 1992.

They happened to be the first team I cheered for as a junior version of my awesome self.

As a precocious 10 year old, lots of careful consideration was given to picking the Oilers.

You see, my favourite colours were blue and orange.

I think that’s why I also chose the Mets.

I used to have a foot hockey team (hockey or soccer without sticks and using a tennis ball) in elementary school called EdBo.

Almost the entire team loved the Edmonton Oilers.

The one boy I loved liked the Boston Bruins.

As class president, I decided the team needed to reflect both preferences, ignoring the protests and concerns of my constituents.

Just like a true politician.

Hey, politics and love can be dirty business.

I digress.

I liked the Oilers after the Gretzky but during the Messier era.

They won the Stanley Cup once without their golden child.

Quite the fairy tale, but the twist of a tragic backstory.
In reality, I could lie and tell you I’d rather have work and activities flourish once I’ve left them, but that’s not true.

It brings me great joy to hear how things disintegrated upon my departure.

Adopting a Machiavellian approach to career development takes a certain level of confidence or delusion.

Semantics.

During the modern era, the Oilers remind me of my dear cohort’s brother.

Him and the new Mrs. are die-hard Oilers fans.

In fact, recently, during his first wedding reception, there was a definite hockey theme, with Edmonton playing a prominent role.

I mull this over. At least the wife is from out west.

You likely have nothing much to cheer for if you’ve spent your childhood in rural Alberta.

“Hey! Why don’t you get back to work!!”

I’m about to push this person past the yellow line, when I realize it is in fact my dear cohort’s brother.

With his delusional friends in Oilers jerseys.

I gotta hand it to the guy, he’s done well with branding.

“Hey!” I give him the sibling hug.

It’s more like a pat on the back without the linger.

“I hope they win tonight!” And I really mean that.

As I travel towards my alleged 5:28 train towards Hamilton, a delay has me staring at lots of graffiti.

Vandals.

I’m half annoyed, half jealous at their shoddy craftsmanship.

If you’re going to take the time to vandalize something, you should do a better job.

With too much time on my hands, I decide to share the tragic backstory of all the signage.


The above vandal suffers from dyslexia. This ailment is portrayed towards his attempt at writing BUSES on a train.

Moron.


The above vandal has created a blatant cry for help. As an acronym, RELS stands for Really Empty Lost Soul. Poor thing.

Or maybe he was trying to say Really Eloquent Lidia Siino.

Either one works. I give him an A for the honourable mention but feel like he should have added my URL.

Somewhat depressing.


The above vandal leads a hard life. Half human, half Muppet or Smoggie. The hand size makes it hard to determine.

He took to the rails to find refuge, but all he found were illiterates and lonely people.

Shameful.


The above vandal demonstrates a bit more promise. It’s good to see he’s working on the exercises his therapist gave to him.

To the right hand side, within the circle, he’s drawn lines for all of the problems in his life that were self-imposed.

To the left, there is a yellow line.

Reflective.


The above vandal was electrocuted during the creation of this sign.

It’s a good thing too. Signs of delusion were evident, as he thought the rail car was actually a wall.

If you turn the image upside down, you will in fact see that it still doesn’t say anything.

I just found out the Oilers lost their game last night.

Tragic backstory indeed.

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