ll I needed was a ladder and some of those rubber things you put on your car so that when you open your door you don’t dent the car next to you. But, it appears I’d once again left my home-improvement chores too late - all hardware stores on Dundas West were closed for the day. Therefore, what choice did I have but to go straight to plan B: I went to the bar.

I had remembered hearing much about a new character bar out in these parts called The Communist’s Daughter, but I didn’t know exactly where. I just keep walking, exploring the hard stretch of Dundas West near Trinity-Bellwoods, where Portuguese sports bars and forklift manufacturers seem to be as common as Starbucks and corner bistros on Queen Street. All I had was a name and a mental picture of a cool spot with a bit of action forming inside.

Alas, I gave up my quest, and stuck my head into a sketchy little spot called Nazzare bar, which appeared to be giving off some steam. The place was packed; all the Goodwill tables and chairs were occupied - one chair alone was supporting three rowdy drinkers. Soda-pop bar stools and even the standing room was filling up.

What choice did I have but to stay, the tiny bar was rocking! But were any of these people from here? The crowd was positively small town - it was as though I’d pulled off the Transcanada west-bound for gas, and ended up in some northern town bar for drinks.