JB's Warehouse & Curio Emporium

Toronto’s Fringe Festival is currently marking its 25 th year, which provides me with a good excuse to look at the first edition I attended, way back in 1999. At the time I was winding down my days in Guelph. Still recovering from the black comedy of working at the Ontarion , I was searching for work, hoping to avoid returning to Windsor. I had just moved into the cheapest place I ever lived in, the entire top floor of a house near Edinburgh and Paisley, a summer sublet which set me back $140/month. Looking for something to lift the gloom of job hunting, I decided a trip to Toronto was in order. I’d read about the Fringe for a few years, and its ticket prices fit my budget. I’d pick a show at random and hope for the best. Flipping through the program doesn’t reveal what I saw that year. No tickets slipped inside, no performances circled, no clippings. So I checked a journal from that time. Nada. Then I remembered I had an IKEA box full of clippings from my first few years ...

7:45 p.m. last night: the lineup at the Glen Morris Studio was about to be let into the theatre to check out Totem Figures , Fringe veteran T.J. Dawe's latest monologue. I stood there lost in my thoughts, processing the $500 I had just poured into my car and the thali I had quickly downed in Little India. A cool breeze made it a comfortable wait, combined with the knowledge that an air conditioner would operate during the performance in a venue infamous for its kiln-like qualities. Suddenly I felt something cool fall on my left hand. The mound resembled a dab of a melted soft-serve twist cone, only the chocolate was thicker and sludgier. The middle-aged women around me noticed and quickly offered to clean up my hand and back. Everyone insisted that a streak of good luck lay ahead. *** If this is true, then the bird officially blessed what has been a good Fringe experience this year. I'm working my way through a five-performance pass and pouring over the online reviews to...