When I first moved to Calgary, I loved living downtown.  It was near all the restaurants, shops and,  most importantly, my friends. If I was ever bored, they were never more than just a few blocks away.

For a boy from New Brunswick, living in a big city didn’t get much better.

Over the past few years, while I’ve maintained my youthful looks and great complexion, a lot of my friends have gotten older, adopted a dog or two, gotten married and even had babies. Their growing families have inevitably forced them leave areas like Mission and Sunnyside for some of this city’s newer communities, which I think are usually named after elements like wood or gravel.

More than any major environmental consequences, forcing my friends to move is why I hate Calgary’s never-ending urban sprawl. Obviously buying a home is a big part of growing up, but unless you’re on the board of Enmax, there’s no way you can afford an inner-city infill home. So my friends, who used to live around the corner, are now half a world away.

Shockingly, most of them have quickly adopted the mentality that I should always go visit them, “because it’s easier.” (Unless there is a street festival and they want my parking spot.)  And maybe this is my Kensington colours showing, but when has driving to suburbia ever been easy? I know for a fact that I’m not the only one scared by identical, beige-coloured houses with street names that are equally confusing. Couldn’t the suburbs at least have adopted the numbered streets and avenues system?

If I do go visit my suburbia-based friends, yes I usually have a good time.  They have things that resemble lawns and a seemingly unlimited supply of lakes. Plus, I don’t know what it is about neighbourhoods named after birds, but they always have the best yard sales.  

The Calgary suburbs are really beginning to crimp my style. Case in point, if my friends didn’t live so far away, they’d be around to monitor me more and make sure that I don’t say things like “crimp my style.”  But now I’m left to wander Prince’s Island Park alone, play solo Bocce ball tournaments and pick up slang from inappropriately dressed parents of teenagers.

In the next few years, this city will welcome new inner-city communities in the East Village and Dalhousie, so until then I’ll just have to be patient, just like my friends, who are still waiting for me to grow up.