BarTalk June 2005
Volume 17, Number 3

The Conference at the End of the Universe

by Tony Wilson

I just returned from the same conference I’ve gone to every year for the past 16 years. Filled with clients and other lawyers, it’s the usual flag-planting exercise we must all do from time to time (lest our firm flags be planted elsewhere). On the first night, I was hobnobbing with other lawyers in the company of too much alcohol and not enough sleep. The next morning I had to chair a round table discussion with my good friends “aspirin,” “headache” and “coffee.”

It’s well-organized by hard-working and dedicated people, but it’s always (and I mean always) held in Toronto; a city known for the belief among its citizens that it is the Centre of the Universe. Recently, the conference was moved to a Gulag at the very edge of that universe, where the airport meets the 905 area code, and where Mississauga, Toronto and Etobicoke meet to swap shades of the color grey. A conference near the airport is meant to be convenient to Torontonians, who can drive there without having to go to the trouble of flying there like the rest of us. It’s said being next to the airport is also convenient for the out-of-towners, because we can all leave in a hurry. In other cities, staying around for an extra day to take in the sights is a selling point. In Toronto, making a quick getaway is the draw. Those who deny this haven’t seen the exodus from the City every summer weekend to “Cottage Country,” proving to me at least that Toronto isn’t so much a city to stay in as one to escape from. You work, you leave. After all, that’s why they invented Muskoka.

Having lived for a time out there, I feel qualified to espouse my theory about conferences. It goes something like this: “if a conference is convenient for Torontonians, it will be inconvenient for everyone else to the same extent.” Because it is convenient for the Torontonians to be close to Toronto, we non-Toronto types are plunked in the middle of a Mississauga moonscape, surrounded by immense robotic looking hydro lines, strip malls from hell, and drab soulless buildings designed by expatriate Soviet planners (who, after discovering the awe and beauty of brick, decided to build everything possible with it). Add to that a conference hotel so close to the airport, wide-body jets fly 300 feet above the roof every four minutes until 1:00 a.m.

I am a firm believer in attending conferences in the dead of winter, when it’s so wet and dreary on the coast, rain floods my shoes and moss grows on the north side of my car. Vegas, San Diego, San Francisco and Phoenix are all destinations known to be warm when the rest of Canada is shivering. New York City in January is cold, but because it has the best museums, restaurants and nightlife in the world, I’ll put up with its weather. (Could it be worse than Toronto’s?) Having never been to Québec City, I’d go there in a flash, regardless of the temperature, just to absorb the atmosphere. And for those who shudder at the thought of a conference in St. John’s, Newfoundland, I’m told it has great bars, a colorful history, a thriving local culture and icebergs, which makes it so much more interesting than Mississauga, which just has the icebergs.

My colleagues who live around Toronto tell me it’s a great place to live, but they wouldn’t want to visit there, lending support to my new theory that if you always pick Toronto for your convention, the out-of-towners may start having it in Vegas without you.

Tony Wilson is a Franchise and Trademark lawyer practising at Boughton in Vancouver. He does not expect to win this year's coveted “I Love Toronto” Award. Email: twilson@boughton.ca.

This article was published in the June 2005 issue of BarTalk and is subject to the copyright by the British Columbia Branch of the Canadian Bar Association, 2005, all rights reserved.