Downtown Deadmonton

Having grown up in Edmonton, I knew about downtown's bad reputation. It was dead after 4:30, they said. There were lots of bums, they complained. Eaton Centre and Edmonton Centre sucked the life out of the streets, they ranted. Mostly I had ignored these comments. Downtown was very far away from my neighbourhood, so why should I care?

When I started working downtown in 2002 I didn't much consider these issues. My office tower seemed hermetically sealed; all I could ever need between 8:15 and 4:30 was within its confines, from convenience store and dry cleaner to bakery and shoe repair. But one day as I sat in my beige-walled cubicle, staring at my 15 inch CRT monitor while the florescent lights flickered overhead, I decided I wanted a bagel. And not just any bagel: no, I wanted a whole wheat and honey bagel, toasted with strawberry cream cheese. That's right, a Tim Horton's bagel.

I leaned back in my ergonomic chair and reviewed my mental map of downtown for the nearest Timmies, but after a few minutes of searching came up empty. I expanded the search parametres and tried again. With a sinking stomach I stared up incredulously at the greying ceiling tiles. Could it be? The nearest Timmies was in Oliver Square? This was downtown. I thought everybody drank coffee downtown. Why on earth didn't Tim Horton's, that one business in Canada that was ensured of instant franchise success, have a location in the heart of the city?

In that moment of incredulity, I finally understood the concern Edmontonians had for our downtown. In that moment, I was transported from my cubicle down to the middle of a dead-empty Jasper Avenue to witness a tumbleweed roll down the street as a vulture circled overhead and old West music played out of nowhere. If Tim Horton's didn't think it could survive in our downtown, things were a lot worse than I thought.

Seven years later there are three Tim Horton's within a seven-block radius of my old office tower. The Bay building is no longer empty, and Jasper West has experienced a revival. Still, Front Page News closed last fall and a ridiculously big club opened down the road. (I shudder internally any time I open the door to Audrey's, hoping nobody peed on it the night before.) Two steps forward, one step back.

The place isn't perfect, but she's got good bones. And when the soul-sucking cubicle walls close in, a soothing cup of steeped tea is only a block away.