Three stories

Here are three strange things that have happened to me in Toronto:

1. Many many years ago, I was walking along Wellesley Street, headed for an improv workshop. A distressed-looking woman came up to me and asked, "Will Jesus forgive me?"
   
   I thought quickly: if I said yes, that might give her permission to do something harmful or destructive. If I said no, it might make her feel worthless, and do something self-destructive. So I tried to smile as supportively as possible as I passed by. I couldn't think of anything else to do.
   
   
2. About five years ago, I was walking along Jarvis Street on a November evening. As I passed by a low-rise apartment, a woman called to me for help. She was trying to climb over a fence from the apartment yard onto the street, and needed someone to help her get over. Since the fence was brightly lit - I wasn't walking into a dark alley or something - I helped her over the fence, and then went on my way. I have no idea what she was doing there.
   
   
3. And about four years ago, I was standing on the platform at Bathurst station when an elderly Chinese woman, standing on the opposite platform, started pointing at me and screaming in Chinese at the top of her lungs. I had never seen her in my life before, and I hadn't bumped into her while going down the platform stairs or anything like that. Her companion, a woman a little older than me who was probably her daughter, shook her head at me accusingly, as if to agree with her mother's assessment. My train arrived, and I never figured out what that was all about.

There was also the time someone tried to sell me cookware on the Chicago El, but that's a story for another time.