By Michael Downing

Marie: Part One

We had been waiting outside the apartments that morning for our Uber to arrive when a young woman who I’ll call Marie stepped through the security doors and said to us, directly, “You’re trespassing.”

“Huh?” I thought. Jackie and I looked at each other.

“No they’re not…no they’re not,” her male companion said, immediately and apologetically.

We kept quiet and studied the situation. There was no immediately threat but something was definitely going on there. Drugs? Alcohol? Mental illness? Hard to say.

In one way, it felt like Marie was trying to be playful and busting on us a bit. Trying to say hello to people she didn’t know but there was a shadow within that was directing her words, so those words came out as accusatory: “You’re trespassing.”

We didn’t know her situation or her trigger points, so we did not reply verbally. Instead, we stood our ground and watched them step around the corner, him leading her.

Five minutes later, our Uber rolled up. We cruised down to the Via Station and took the train into Toronto. It was a breeze. Maybe 25 minutes. We got off at Union Station and jumped onto the local subway to St Patrick’s Station where we headed toward the Art Gallery of Ontario.

Marie Part: Two

After a big day in Toronto, we got back to our Air BnB, had dinner, and relaxed. The sun went down on a gorgeous day and that’s when the drama started. Jackie fell asleep in the bedroom and I fell asleep watching TV on the couch. I hadn’t been asleep for 15 minutes when I heard that sounded like a hammer hitting something hard. Bap, bap, bap. Sharp and hard.

It happened again. So…I thought someone might be making a quick, midnight repair. What else could it be? Then it happened again…and again…repeatedly jolting me out of my sleep.

The third series of hammer strokes were really loud. Clank, clank, clank, clank. I awoke and had no idea where I was. An adrenaline bomb had gone off in my chest and I was saying to myself Oh, God what is happening?

I took a breath and opened my ears as wide as I could. I heard a voice. At first, I couldn’t tell whether it was one voice or more than one voice but it was either talking to someone or talking to itself.

More banging of the hammer. Clank, clank, clank, clank. This is all happening in the apartment directly next door, on the other side of the wall from me. Then I heard the hallway door open and slam shut–and I mean full slam. Wham!

I jumped up and looked through the peephole. Nothing.

What’s going on? Was this an argument between two people or was it one person who was in mental distress? Was somebody drunk or on drugs or becoming violent. Was it a resident or had a visitor enterer the premise? I had no idea.

Then I started to hear moaning sounds. Wailing, groaning, loudly and sustained, like a mournful wail. Okay, enough. I need help. I didn’t know if there was a superintendent or whether police needed to get involved. My best option was to reach out to our Air BnB host.

It was 1:30 a.m. I was worried that our host might be asleep and that we wouldn’t get resolution until morning. So I reached out to Charles and described the facts of the situation, along with my concern. I didn’t hear from him immediately because it was the middle of the night, but after about 75 minutes, he responded and we began our back-and-forth.

All the while, the noises continued. It would quiet down for a bit and then it would start again: Wailing, arguing, hammering.

Charles is flummoxed. He is exceedingly apologetic. He is asking lots of questions.

I respond by giving him as much of an update as I can. I am a trained journalist, so I gave him relevant the facts, along with a timeline, without judgment. Soon, Charles said that he had been in touch with the building superintendent. Shortly thereafter, Jackie and I heard voices and looked into the hallway and the police were there with paramedics. They were communicating with Marie through the door and the situation became increasingly clear: This was the person who told us we were trespassing earlier in the day. Apparently, she came back to her apartment and went into crisis mode. We went from fear and confusion to empathy. She was suffering.

She wouldn’t let them in. She was afraid that they were going to beat her. She said that she was an “alcoholic not a criminal.” The police and paramedics were very professional. They said, loudly and clearly, that they were not there to arrest her and that they were not going to beat her. Instead, they said, “We are here to provide you with help. Somebody called an ambulance.”

Turns out Marie called the ambulance.

They finally convinced her to open the door and they instructed her to get her phone and her health card. So it seems Marie got the help she needed, thankfully.

I followed up with Charles who refunded one night of our stay. Situation resolved.

The lesson, for me, is the power of clear communication. I reached out to Charles in a way that was not angry, hyperbolic, or accusatory. Charles responded quickly and calmly, asking lots of questions, rather than trying to put me off because it was late or treating me like I was insane. The EMS people communicated in professional fashion throughout and made their intensions clear, which enabled the situation to be defused. And I’m glad Marie was able to make the phone call.

So there we were…I was on about three hours of sleep, hoping for a cup of tea and some breakfast. Luckily, a Sunset Grill was right around the corner. If you’re ever up in Canada and you’re looking for breakfast, we’ve never had a bad meal at a Sunset Grill. I got Eggs Benedict and Jackie got Waffle Eggs Benedict. All good. Then we got into the Taurus and made our way to downtown Oakville.