Life on Lake Ontario, unless you’re in Toronto, comes with an inferiority complex. That’s why I’m obligated to tell you about the time I finally saw Hamilton.
Don’t worry—I won’t bore you with too many details.
There’s the creative genius Lin-Manuel Miranda, born in New York City and educated at Wesleyan University in Middletown, Connecticut—the same as MGMT, by the way.
He’s the one who thought to tell the story of a forgotten Founding Father using a diverse cast and hip hop.
Then there’s the actual Founding Father, Alexander Hamilton, who was born on the Caribbean island of Nevis and somehow landed in the US, becoming George Washington’s treasury secretary among other things.
And then there are the political rivalries, including one with Aaron Burr, whose bullet took Hamilton’s life in a duel.
That’s just messed up.
Anyway, you know the deal.
The show started off-Broadway in 2015, quickly moving to Broadway when the rave reviews started coming in.
Per the norm, a Chicago production, a West End (London) production, and several others followed suit.
Somewhere in the mix came a run on Disney+ and a cameo in movie theaters.
And, of course, there were the touring productions, the type that give places like Rochester (NY) a little bit of culture.
That’s where I would have entered the picture.
But you didn’t think I was talking about that Hamilton, did you?
Let’s rewind the clock.
It was December 2019, and I was looking for the perfect spot for an exotic family getaway.
Having already explored the luxurious Buffalo, Cleveland, and Detroit, I knew I had to think outside the box.
Where could I find steel mills, empty storefronts, poverty, and drug addiction, all wrapped up into a simple two-hour drive?
A light-bulb moment (and four passports) later, I knew exactly where we were headed.
If you’re one of those Americans who romanticizes Canada, go to Hamilton.
Named for another Hamilton (George in this case), the city of 569,353 in southern Ontario let’s you know rather quickly that there ain’t much romantic about the place.
The first clue comes from the highway, where the skyline along Lake Ontario serves as a reminder that, yes, North America does still make steel.
In the city itself comes yet another reminder, the one about the Rust Belt knowing no borders.
This clip, courtesy RocaNews, will show you what I mean.
In my particular case, as that chilly December day confirmed my nagging suspicions, I felt a sense of despair.
What happened to my utopia?
Even on the right side of the Underground Railroad, how could cities still look like sh*t?
Were Canadians no better than—gasp—Americans?!
In my moment of darkness, I had no choice but to resort to the coping mechanism we Americans are taught right alongside the US Pledge of Allegiance.
I ate donuts.
(The original Tim Hortons, founded in 1964 in Hamilton)
The post The Fateful Day I Finally Saw Hamilton appeared first on ComposeMD.