Recently, I was trapped in an elevator at the Ontario legislature with Marion Boyd and a posse of NDPers. I barely survived with my sanity. (At least I think I did, editor).
The occasion was a buck and doe celebrating the surprise marriage of MPP Shelley Martel (she of the lie detector test) and rabid hockey player and part-time cabinet minister, Howie Hampton. I only went because it wasn’t a same-sex marriage between two cabinet ministers. I definitely draw the line there.
With my invitation in hand, I pressed the button for an elevator to go down to the restaurant that had been taken for the occasion.
The elevator opened and there was Marion Boyd with a sizable chunk of the NDP caucus. I pushed my way in and ended up jowl-to-jowl with Marion. Need I remind our readers that Marion Boyd is the non-lawyer attorney general who is using millions of taxpayer dollars to hunt down 18 stalwart pro-lifers. (Howie Hampton, the former AG, refused to embark on this silly crusade, and was demoted)
I have spent was seems to be a lifetime denouncing the NDP for its “let’s get those pro-lifers,” anti-family, Marxist, politically correct ideology. Now, here I was face-to-face with my most notorious adversary. I introduced myself as a writer from The Interim and asked Marion if she had read the latest. She had a pained expression as if I had trod on her tow and would have throttled me if she could have got her hands up.
We reached the basement but, when the elevator stopped, the doors stayed shut. No amount of button hammering would get those stubborn doors open. Again, I tried to seize the opportunity to tell Marion about The Interim and what an interesting paper she would find it but she appeared more concerned about getting to the party.
A look of door-kicking and yelling went on before some-one pressed the alarm button. A party flack on the elevator demanded over the intercom that someone come and rescue us. From outside, a Scotsman informed is that it was after six, the elevator maintenance staff had gone home and, because of the social contract, there was no back-up personnel on hand.
There was a lot of foot-shuffling and angry denunciations of the social contract by repentant NDPers. The party caucused and Marion Boyd – being the top ranking cabinet minister in the elevator – was picked to debate the Scotsman.
She argued that an outside, non-unionized serviceman should be contacted and that the party would be willing to pay double or even triple for this service call. The answer came back that sorry there was no one available. It was then that I suggested we get in touch with Ollie North; he had a good record for trying to get people out of fixes. This suggestion was voted down by the caucus with only Peter Kormos voting in favour of it.
Marion complained about us dying of thirst and wasn’t it possible that water could be piped in. The Scotsman replied that he was reluctant to damage the historic elevator but with cabinet approval a pipeline could be inserted. Cabinet approval was hurriedly granted. Deciding on which liquid to pipe in was much more difficult. I voted for Upper Canada Dry Lager Beer and again, Kormos was my only backer. After a heated debate with all kinds of compromises, the fractious caucus decided that powdered skim milk would be acceptable.
The Scotsman readily agreed and within ten minutes a hole had been drilled and powdered skim milk poured into the elevator. Marion demanded to know where the water was to mix with the powder. The Scotsman insisted that there had been no mention of water and he wasn’t going to do any more damage to the historic edifice. Besides, he had to go for supper but would be back in an hour.
I suggested that we say a prayer but the NDP caucus decided that because there were so many different religions in the elevator and so many different “concepts of God,” prayer could not be used.
I got so angry I kicked the elevator walls and the doors sprung open! We cheered lustily as we poured out and made our way to Shelley and Howie’s party – a little bit late – and a lot more thirsty. But they were so much in love they didn’t even miss us.
I never did get to know what Marion Boyd really thought of The Interim.