Case in point: what has come to be known as the Taste of the Danforth Incident. I guess I have a bit of a vested interest in this one because I am tangentially involved. Or rather, my front porch is. That’s where an unsteady and vaguely incoherent Ford – attending the above-mentioned Greektown shindig and apparently parked nearby on Greenwood Ave – was swarmed by mobile-phone-wielding passersby.
My house is clearly visible behind him as are those of my neighbours as Ford makes his way north towards Danforth Ave for a coffee at the nearby Tim Hortons. Yes, Ford seems a bit hammered; he admitted as much yesterday on his weekly radio show.
But assuming he wasn’t driving – and he insisted to the ugly iPhone mob that he wasn’t – then I don’t see a huge problem. Dude is on the town on a Friday night in August celebrating a major street festival and letting off steam. Big whoop.
Sure, it’s a bit unbecoming to see a city official publicly drunk – and it’s certainly a pity he can bring himself to attend Taste of the Danforth but not Pride, which also brings millions into the city core – but honestly, this all just seems like a tempest to me.
Plus, when you watch the video, the surging crowd surrounding Ford seems way scarier. Jostling for an image, asking stupid questions, surrounding Ford… no wonder he felt off-balance. Naturally, I was far too protective of my vodka cache to invite the Mayor inside (a girl can only go so far) but still.
Editorials have pointed out that Ford’s deportment shows bad judgment and, far from being an anomaly, further corroborates evidence of a substance abuse problem. No argument here, Rosie. But for once I am willing to lend Ford a bit of slack. Me and my beautiful porch. Lord knows I pay enough taxes to keep it.