Dear Urban Diplomat: My husband bought us a pass to skip the line at the ski hill. Why do I feel guilty for using it?
I can’t help being embarrassed every time I sheepishly walk past the eye rollers in the regular queue
Dear Urban Diplomat, My husband and I love skiing, and this year he bought Blue Mountain’s new Reserve Pass, which gives us a fast lane to the chairlift. The thing is, it’s so embarrassing gliding past the eye rollers in the regular queue. So I started lining up with them, and my husband’s not having it. He says that we have limited time, so why waste it when we already paid for the privilege of skipping? Am I overthinking this? —Out of Line, Willowdale West
Skiing at Blue Mountain costs a bomb—and that’s before the gear, tune-ups and overpriced après caesars—so count yourself fortunate to be there. Flashing a class-warfare-inducing pass is obnoxious, but it’s also akin to flying first-class, and we’ve all made our peace with that. The folks in line won’t remember you after the chairlift swoops you away. I suggest you give this issue the same amount of thought and just enjoy the slopes.
Dear Urban Diplomat, I met a woman at a speed-dating event in the fall. I thought she was cute, but she passed on me for round two. Then, around New Years, we matched on an app. We’ve hit it off and have a date planned in a few weeks, when she returns from a work trip. I remembered her right away from speed-dating, but it’s clear that she didn’t recognize me. Should I remind her that we’ve already met and risk her recalling why she rejected me? Or should I go on the date, keep my mouth shut and be grateful for the chance to start fresh? —Forgettable Me, Chinatown
It’s never good to start a relationship with deception. You should bring it up before either of you builds too much anticipation for the date. Who knows? Maybe you had something in your teeth during the speed-dating event. As excited as you are about her, none of this is real until you hit it off IRL. At this point, you have little to lose by being honest.
Dear Urban Diplomat, I’m gagging on my neighbours’ fumes. They insist on starting their two cars remotely every morning and letting them warm up. The other day, I was out shovelling snow and breathing in exhaust for almost 20 minutes. When they emerged from their house, I confronted them, and they huffily told me to mind my own business. I’m thinking of dropping a printout of the city’s idling by-law in their mailbox. Is that taking it too far? —Idle Threats, Islington
As much as it sucks to climb into an icebox on wheels, 20 minutes to warm a car is excessive, and the city agrees. The by-law prohibits idling for longer than a minute, with some narrow exceptions. Cold weather isn’t one of them, unless the driver can provide a doctor’s note explaining why they need to maintain a certain temperature in their car. While the city rarely issues proactive tickets for this kind of thing, they will send out warning letters after complaints. I suggest having a civilized conversation with your neighbours, just maybe not when they’re blearily heading to work. If they won’t see reason, call 311.
Dear Urban Diplomat, We often host my sister-in-law and her family at our house. I love cooking, so I always go all out with a 12-hour brisket, Sunday roast or homemade pasta. She (finally) invited us over for a pizza party with all the kids. When we were leaving, I offered to pitch in on the pizza they ordered, just to be polite. She had the gall to accept. I forked over almost a hundred bucks! I’m livid. I told my wife I’m done cooking them dinners. She wants me to let it go. Who’s right? —Unhappy Meal, Malvern East
You’re right to be annoyed, but ask yourself, Is it worth making things tough for your wife? Her relationship with her sister is more important than your views on dinner reciprocity. That said, if you love cooking, it should make you happy to do it. It’s clear that sweating it out for your in-laws isn’t sparking joy. My suggestion? Keep the invites rolling, but next time, order delivery. If you still want to cook, try store-bought pasta or other low-effort meals. Save your best work for someone who appreciates the effort.
