Fred Lum/The Globe and Mail
This week, a City of Toronto committee rejected a recommendation to phase out the sale of sugary drinks from vending machines in city recreation facilities, following a heated argument between pro-pop city councillor Doug Ford and anti-pop councillor Paula Fletcher. According to local media reports, as Councillor Ford finished his speech, he thanked the cola industry for creating jobs and sponsoring city events and concluded by taking a swig from a Coca-Cola bottle.
Dramatic? Hardly. The real story is what happened next:
After Mr. Ford chugged his Coke and slammed it down, Ms. Fletcher responded by squeezing an orange into a ceramic cup with the words "reusable" printed on the side and downed the beverage in several small, easy gulps.
Mr. Ford flashed Ms. Fletcher an uneasy smile, pulled a pack of pepperoni pizza Combos from his breast pocket, nonchalantly tossed one high in the air and caught it in his open mouth. He brought the microphone in close and let the sound of that first, mighty crunch echo through the council chamber.
The other city councillors now rose from their seats and formed a circle around Mr. Ford and Ms. Fletcher, the suburban right fist-pumping and shouting behind Mr. Ford and the downtown left forming a supportive phalanx behind Ms. Fletcher. Councillor Kristyn Wong-Tam, Toronto Centre-Rosedale, started a chant of "fight!… fight!… fight!… fight!" while Councillor Joe Mihevc, St. Paul's West, became a human beatbox, but was drowned out by Councillor Doug Holyday, Etobicoke Centre, whose beats were fresher and deeper.
Ms. Fletcher reached into her purse and pulled out a sheet of cranberry fruit leather, high in antioxidants, ripped a piece off with her teeth, and chewed it in a provocative manner, staring Mr. Ford dead in the eyes while high-fiving - then low-fiving, then fist-bumping - Councillor Adam Vaughan, Trinity-Spadina.
Councillor Denzil Minnan-Wong, Don Valley East, frisbeed a Cool Ranch Dorito at Mr. Ford, which Mr. Ford caught without taking his eyes off Ms. Fletcher. While rolling his shoulders rhythmically to Councillor Holyday's beats, Mr. Ford opened a private stash of pure Dorito seasoning, dipped the Dorito in the orangey powder and thanked the International Foodcraft Corporation, which produces pre-dispersed colour concentrates. Mr. Ford then stuck out his tongue, laid the ultra-seasoned chip on it, pulled it into his mouth and feigned a look of extraordinary sensual pleasure, drawing laughs.
A point-counter point battle ensued. Ms. Fletcher produced a "chocolate milkshake" made from carob, fortified organic soy cream and brown rice, which she chugged in seconds. She then held the empty cup high in the air to screams of, "Go, girl!"
Mr. Ford drank a glass of cola syrup - normally mixed with carbonated water to make fountain pop - and flashed a tooth-stained grin.
Ms. Fletcher ruminated Don Valley-grown wheatgrass.
Mr. Ford bit into a pogo stick injected with Red Bull and twice dipped in high-fructose corn syrup and hydrogenated beef tallow.
Accounts at this point differ. As the showdown reached its incredible climax, Mr. Ford menacingly brandished a wad of Pringles while Ms. Fletcher cradled a large mixing bowl filled with cherry-scented cod-liver oil. Someone - it's not clear who - pushed either Mr. Ford or Ms. Fletcher, resulting in Mr. Ford's Pringles landing in Ms. Fletcher's cod-liver oil. For a tension-filled moment, the battling councillors stared in horror at their now-ruined snacks.
Mr. Ford slowly extended a hand, pulled out a Pringle drenched in long-chain heart-healthy omega-3s and ate it. He turned to his incredulous posse and said, "It's actually really good."
Amid shouts of "Don't do it!" from the downtown left, Ms. Fletcher sampled a chip and cracked a wide smile.
And with that, Toronto city council unanimously agreed to stock city vending machines with this new, delicious, satisfying snack. As Mr. Ford's brother, the mayor, signed the bill into law, councillors threw their hats in the air, yelled, "Hooray!" and danced to world music long into the night.
Special to The Globe and Mail