So, this was in Toronto a few years ago.
Toronto is probably my favorite of the North American cities I've visited. It even beats Dayton, OH. Anyhow, there we are having pulled into the b&b we'd call home for a few days. It was run by this guy with a serious royalty-fetish. Over a beer in the basement tavern, he expressed to us his love for the queen, and each room of his hotel was dedicated to a different Windsor.
The boys were just little then, so we plopped them into a double stroller and went out looking for grub Toronto-style. Unbeknownst to us, Toronto had seen a recent snap of stings by the teetotalling-police and none of the restaurants that served alcohol would allow us in with the children. Seriously now, did they think we'd be feeding Harvey Wallbangers to the 16 month-olds?
So we continue on our way looking for a dive that'll let us in with kids. And we eventually find that the sting had been limited to the neurotic royalty-praising neighborhood we were lubbing in and in fact it was easy to buy your toddler booze in the rest of the city.
I say all of this to bring you to what was an occasion on which I received some of the better advice I've ever received on the street. It came from a weary-eyed man living on an avenue along an intersection near the University. Seeing the twin boys, he leaned in with a word of guru-like advice: "Love your mother. Don't do drugs. Love Jesus. Learn Karate."
There you have it, friends. The four-part key to happiness in this world (or at least what it takes one man to live on the rough streets of the most pleasant city in this hemisphere).