“Very nice,” I said. “But why did you bring me up here?”
“It’s time for you to see Rob Ford,” he replied.
Then I woke up in bed and it was the next morning. I made breakfast in a pretty nasty mood, wondering if I’d seen Rob Ford, whatever the hell he was, in the hours I had blacked out, or if I would see him as soon as I went out into the street. I had some pretty gruesome ideas about him, I must admit. A creature with three eyes and tentacles, a survivor from Atlantis, who walked among us, invisible due to some form of mind shield, and did hideous work for the Illuminati. It was unnerving to contemplate, and I finally gave in to my fears and peeked out the window, thinking it might be better to see him from a distance first. Nothing. Just ordinary sleepy people, heading for their busses and subways. That calmed me a little, so I set out the toast and coffee and fetched the New York Times from the hallway. I turned the radio to WBAI and caught some good Vivaldi, sat down, grabbed a piece of toast and started skimming the first page.
Then I saw Rob Ford.