It was a beautiful Sunday afternoon.  The sky was blue.  The sun sparkled on the fresh snow.  Toronto Bay was filled with ice.  The city slumbered in the cold.  Picture postcard beautiful they call it in the travel magazines extolling the virtues of the place. 

And then it started.  The noise of a powerful aircraft engine being cranked up to the highest possible revolutions per minute.  Engine runups, they call it at the Island Airport.  Absolutely necessary.  It must be done.  Crank up the engine even higher.  Let's hear it scream!  On and on it goes, shattering the calm of the day.

Who cares what the neighbours think, Porter seems to say.  Don't they know that we have an important business to run?  Why they are so selfish?  They should be delighted to give up the peace and quiet of a tranquil Sunday afternoon for the sake of all those business people who must rush off to their important meetings. 

That engine is the sound of money in our ears.  Faster!  More rpm!  Burn up the fuel!  Turn up the volume!   No one should complain about us!  The noise of our engines drowns out all of the opposition.  We are king of all we survey.

Enough already, Porter.  Your arrogance, self-importance and ignorance of your neighbours is insufferable!

Bill Freeman