Walking into a 7-11 in the wee hours of the twilight is a shocking event, no matter how many times you do it.

But for those who walk by night, the din of flourescent light is like sunshine for insomniacs, a reading light for vampires.

By the time the bars get out on any given night, the search for food is less about sustenance and more about ammunition-take what you can get, because they already know your face at Amato’s, and the stack of pizza bags and empty pop cans far outweighs anything else in your garbage can. With the exception of jaunting down Spadina for satay beef on rice or a pot of “cold tea” for those who know the restaurant’s owner, 7-11 is the great equalizer; both the soup kitchens and the Yorkville bistros stopped serving a long time ago, and lord knows you don’t have groceries at home.

Whether it’s the quick fix of a Big Bite hot dog (I believe Kierkegaard called it the leap of faith) or brand new tacquitos of varying-and often random-flavours, the two bucks spent will give you just enough warmth in the tummy to breach the cold trek home.

If anything eclipses the 24-hour convenience store, it’s the 24-hour grocery store, also rapidly becoming a downtown staple.

The fact that 24-hour grocery stores have security guards posted at the front seems to be less about preventing shoplifiting and more about reminding you that you’re buying milk and Fritos in the middle of the night on a week day, and that this is not how a normal member of society functions. Cascading under more unnatural lighting, the carefully designed packages lining the shelves never look better, making selection even more difficult. I read an article a while ago about a Soviet-era agriculture minister touring Ontario with his Cold War Canadian counterpart, and the man practically did an ideological 180 after visiting a Loblaw’s. Not only were the products fresh and plentiful, but there was choice of brand, something unseen back on home turf. Never has there been a better example of capitalism’s unnerving schizophrenia than through the supermarket-there’s 30 different kinds of cereal on the racks, and there are still people who can’t afford any of them. Nonetheless, it’s better than no choice at all, so until the shit goes down, I’ll take my chances at the Dominion.