Bob Rae

What's up Bob Rae?

You sure were nice to photograph reading in your home library. You weren't all chest-puffed-out politician at all. Just down-to-earth nice.

Although, I knew this.

See, I met you once in the Air Canada lounge. I was reading and the Ryder Cup was on the television in front of me (though I was oblivious to it).

You sat next to me and asked, "Are you watching the Ryder Cup?" When I looked up I responded, like an idiot, "You're Bob Rae." You said, "Yes I am. Are you watching the Ryder Cup?" I think you just wanted to know the score. Of course, I responded, again, "You're Bob Rae. You're the first Premier I remember growing up."

Rather than ignoring me since I was obviously incapable of answering whether I was watching the Ryder Cup or not, you were nice and chatted with me for a bit. I thought you were pretty cool.

Then this past summer during Gay Pride you shot me in the face with a Water Gun. That was pretty funny.

I didn't mention either of our two previous meetings when I photographed you this time. Instead, we talked about how you were reading Wolf Hall and about the Olympics, and when I left I thought to myself, "Gee. That Bob Rae guy sure is nice. I'd vote for him."