You know that absolutely infuriating answer about how life isn't fair your parents give when you lose out to that brown-nosing ass-clown on that thing you totally deserve?
One can stumble around Toronto and find a merry old English-style pub just like this one on EVERY FREAKING CORNER. One can venture into said pub and take one's pick of well-priced single malt scotches and even weller-priced pints. One can take in the warm ambiance, the mahogany everything, the murky patterned carpets, the twinkling white lights. One can engage in quiet conversation in front of the glowing fireplace and fancy himself a viscount. Oh, here's a fine place to get a drink around the corner from my mom's, we discovered AFTER NOT LOOKING VERY HARD AT ALL.
Fair? YOU WANT FAIR?!
Grr. Boston sucks.