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| metronews.ca |
Poutine makes friends.
At least it did in my case.
Yesterday, my friend Kat and I had a craving for
poutine midway through the afternoon. With less than 10 minutes between
classes, we decided to rush out into the frigid April air towards the one and
only Goldies Fries near campus.
Now, this was my first time ever heading to the
iconic food truck, and neither Kat nor I realized this is a cash only
establishment.
Rubbing our hands up and down our arms, we reached
the window, the music blasting outside. Darryl Leiman, the owner, opened the
window and told us this devastating information.
Kat and I looked at each other. What were we
going to do?
Then Darryl asked us what we wanted.
I thought, I had 25 cents in my pocket I could
maybe, possibly, afford a package of ketchup.
“What do you want?” He asks again.
"Poutine," I tell him, meekly.
He smiles at us, “onions?”
I look at him in shock, but shake my head.
He tells us we can pay him back on Monday and
closes the window.
I turn to Kat. A disbelieving smile crosses both of
our faces. Today is a good day.
Leiman opens the window and hands us the poutine.
We exchange names and express our utmost gratitude. We tell him we’ll be back
on Monday.
This reaffirms one of Winnipeg’s best attributes, I say.
One I often dismiss when talking about where I come from. Although we live in a
city with over 700,000 people, it never feels that way. I often see the
same people out on a regular basis. I run into teachers, friends' parents, and
old acquaintances often. It's reminiscent of a small town, really.
And that's what I enjoy most about Winnipeg.
Darryl Leiman spotting Kat and I at his own
business is a small town experience because it's based on an honour system. He
knows we'll be back.
Of course.
