Woah, a total blast from the past… What is this? Some sort of thread about a recent Friday night? Indeed it is… Last Friday to be exact, but I won't go too much into the particulars. First, some background information. Three years had passed since I'd seen my old friends from high school. For some reason that is still unknown to me, I decided to login to my old FB account and see what my childhood best friend was up to. After sending him a message, I quickly thought “Shit, a few years ago I completely abandoned everyone… This may have been a bad idea”. His response was that of genuine surprise and interest in how I'd been. He immediately said that we should do something that night and that he'd do his best to get the other guys out as well. No hard feelings at all, just come by and shoot the shit. Another group of friends that I hung out with in high school had stayed in touch with the previous friend mentioned. Every once in a while they'd say “You know, so-and-so's been asking about you and wonders why you just ran off all of a sudden”. I'd brush it off with “If he wanted to speak with me, he knows how to get a hold of me”. My reason for cutting ties had to do mostly with personal issues which I figured had arisen due to the crowd I chose to associate with. Moving on… When I realized that I all of a sudden had plans with people I hadn't seen in years, I felt the all too familiar “fear” kicking in. It's an odd mix of adrenaline and paranoia which is cured only by a cherry colt cigar. This “fear” is a sensation that claws its way into my mind two or three times a year; generally appearing during the realization that a certain event is going to take place and that I can't do anything to stop it. I wasn't going to bail on these plans. I hadn't done anything for about six months prior to this night… Besides, I was curious as to how everyone had been. I knew that some were now fathers and that others had been away for their own private reasons. There was one person in particular that I didn't want to bump into. At the time, I thought the chances were slim that it could even be possible, although later in the night I found out that I'd dodged a bullet. A bullet that I previously thought would come barreling through the door at any moment, dead-set on a mission to ruin a good time. Arriving in the old neighbourhood was surreal. I'd driven by a bunch of times in the past few years, but never into the side streets and courts that we used to roam. The fear was real at this point; sweaty hands, the shakes, and a case of cat-got-your-tongue… I went to the side door and all of a sudden realized “Fuck, am I supposed to knock? I used to come here nearly every single day and never once knocked”. I stood there like a fool for about 15 seconds when I heard a round of laughter escape from an open window… Oddly, as soon as I heard the laughter a sense of calmness came over me. The window from which the laughter seeped from has always held a special place in memory for me. The term “go to the window” was uttered countless times throughout the years I went to this house. We always had to stand up, walk over to the window, and blow our tokes out discreetly. People who weren't seasoned champs at walking across the room with a toke in their lungs sometimes fainted. Cases of vertigo often brought down some of the biggest smokers that I knew at the time. I myself luckily never fainted, although came close a few times… The most notable time that someone fainted in the basement was when I was jamming with my old band. We were in the middle of a song when one of our good friends who wasn't a musician stood up to blow his toke out of the window. (I'm laughing as I type this because I can remember it so clearly)… He got up and made it about halfway there when he collapsed into a pile of bricks that were for some reason assembled as a miniature pyramid… He landed in the most awkward/uncomfortable position imaginable. I saw the entire thing happen from behind the drum kit and nearly pissed myself. I stopped playing and pointed with a drum stick at the semi-conscious body that lay in a twisted wreck against the wall and a pyramid of bricks… Anyway, back to the story… I decided to just walk in as I could hear that others where already downstairs. I made my way down the stairs and opened the door. As soon as I pushed the door forward it completely fell off the hinges and landed straight on the floor in front of me. My buddy (who had invited me over) said something about the door which I can't remember and then hugged me and asked me if I wanted a beer. It seemed slightly robotic and forced at first, but it had been three years and the tinge of awkwardness was probably mutual at that point. He was with two people that I'd never met, although, they knew of me through the god awful tales of the past. I asked what he'd been up to. Everything was fine… He has a millwright apprenticeship, very cool. I told him my boring story about school and he thought it sounded fun. He sipped a beer and said “You know you're the only one that went on to school right?”. Inside I thought “Hmm, I'm not sure if that's a compliment or if he's expecting me to come off as an asshole and wanted to initiate an argument”. I replied with something or the other and the discussion quickly changed topics. He offered me a toke, which I gladly accepted. I haven't smoked much this year. Less than ten “stones” under my belt in 2015, however, now that it's Christmas break I may get stoned and hike along the escarpment, thanks to the warm weather. I could tell they were doing blow right from the get go. The two that I had not met before were fidgety and kept to themselves chain smoking cigarettes. I knew exactly what was up. The two other guys had probably been coming here for the past few months to purchase whatever and would stick around until the night got underway. Needless to say, I had no part in that stuff. Three other buddies that I hadn't seen since the old days eventually showed up when I was about five beers into the evening. I had a nice buzz going and said something along the line of “Man, I've been back for one night and now you're all here” and one of them said “Yeah man, it's fucked it. It's like you're finally back and now all of your buddies from high school are here”. It was a weird movie-like feeling which my seventeen year old self would have lambasted as an act of “gayness”. Stupid kid I was… Anyway, the night went on and we drank and smoked… They took part in the other. I felt like an asshole for not doing any, but I'm sure they understood. I kept thinking (and I know this is a horrible, paranoid, stupid thought) “Gee, what if these guys are angry or jealous that I'm not even tempted to touch this stuff… Hopefully they don't think I'm judging them”… Whatever a person chooses to put in their body is up to them. It was about 10:00PM when I realized it was an utter sausage fest. I suppose the fact that two of them have children and one is engaged played apart in that. One of the more rambunctious guys shouted out of the blue “Strip club! We're going to the rippers!”. For a moment I thought the problem had solved itself… Then it hit me “Oh yeah, you've gotta pay for that stuff”. Regardless, I was more than casually inebriated at this point and seconded the motion to head to the strip club. I'd only been once before and it was a complete bore… We called a cab and finished our session and packed up two beers each for the road. The cab ride there was a total flashback. It was one of those van cabs. Three of the guys were in the very back and I with my old pal were in the two middle seats. The cab driver was listening to Rihanna which immediately became a problem with the drunken crew in the back of the van. Shouts of “Turn Q107 on!” and “Yo, do you have an aux input? I have a cord if you don't” were met with a nervous response from the visibly anxious cab driver. Long story short, an iPod with nothing but thrash metal was plugged in and continued to pump as the cab palm muted its way down the dirtiest street in the dirtiest city in all of Ontario. Conversation in the van was probably not PG-13. From what I remember, it consisted mainly of “Yo, I'm gonna get a stripper to do a line off of my dick” to which someone else replied “Yeah, that'd be a tiny bump!”. I sat there silent for about half of the ride and stared out the window in a drunken haze, wishing I could smoke a fine cherry colt. Each time someone mentioned the strip club I'd casually say “What are you talking about? We're going to A&W...”… At least I thought it was funny. We got dropped off behind a decrepit old building across the street from the police station. There was a dumpster which everyone shuffled to immediately and pissed on their own side. I can't remember who didn't get a side, but they ended up pissing on a wall. We smoked and drank without a care into the world as to potential walkers by… Besides, our actions would have been looked at as rather mild compared to the usual debauchery which takes place in that area… We went inside and it was absolutely packed. I noticed that there was a group of people that were about to leave, so I insisted that we grab a beer at the bar and then scoop up the empty table as soon as possible. As we were at the bar I didn't realize that one of the guys had bought two pitchers. I was in some sort of daze staring into the fridge trying to decide what I'd have to drink… The usuals where there… Molson, Coors Light, whatever… I thought to myself “Order something, just not Coors… Not Coors… Don't get Coors”. The bartender looked me and asked what I wanted. I blurted “Bottle of Coors”… Damnit. We snatched up the only empty table in the place… Directly behind perverts row… About 30 seconds into sitting down a SMOKING HOT Brazilian girl came over and put her elbows on the table and asked what we were up to. My buddy immediately went “This is my pals first time here” (it wasn't) and she goes “Oh really, come on!” and she signaled for me to get up… I was thinking “Oh my fuck, I'm going to make an ass of myself… Can I bring my beer? Do I take off my coat?”. I looked at my friend with a nasty scowl and barked “Where the fuck do I go?” He laughs and says “Just follow her, man”. I went to the back of the place which is sectioned off with some cheesy partition that could probably could have been knocked over with a mild gust of wind. I saw two chairs… One was a nice looking comfy chair… The other a generic folding kind… I actually started giggling at how “clever and observant” I was, due to the fact that the nice chair must be for me and the other for the dancer… In all honesty, as some of you may know, the chair for the dancer is hardly utilized anyway… Except for one move that if I were to perform would result in a serious hamstring injury, or worse, falling backward. So, I got the dance and all that stuff. Oh wow, boobs and ass… Although, I'll admit her body was amazing… She said “that ones free, $20 for every other song”. For some reason I was about to bargain with her (which probably would have had me rightly ejected) when I pulled out my wallet and she saw a $50 bill. What she said next was so funny that I had to turn my face and pretend to cough in order to hide the gigantic smirk on my face… I'll put it this way, she wouldn't “let you finish” but she'd “give you a hand” as she danced for the next 2 songs for that nice red bill. And no, I didn't take her up on that offer, but I did stay for another dance... I went back to the table which was missing two of my friends. The ones that were there had huge grins on their faces and said “So?! How was it? That was some sexy fucking Brazilian”. I laughed and told them what happened. Eventually everyone had their turn in the back section. Their stories where a hell of a lot more graphic than mine… We had a few more drinks and smoked out back. At one point I was separated from them and realized “Oh shit, I know what they're doing…”. I waited outside and they all came back and one of them stupidly said “Sorry, we got caught up in the john”. I'll admit it was funny, but it also served as a reminder as to how I probably used to act. The night ended shortly after that. They took a cab back to my old neighbourhood, I took one to my place… I could tell I smelled like pot smoke/cig smoke/booze/and probably a stripper. When I got in one of my roommates looked at me and said “What'd you do, go get high” I laughed and said “Yeah, want some?”. She rolled her eyes and went to her room. Living with life long non-smokers (they've probably smoked pot probably less than twenty times between the three of them) has been refreshing to say the least… And that's the end of that… (I didn't realize this would be so long… Hope it was worth it!)
well that sucked the title made me expect some hottub time machine type story but i was instead bombarded with a hipster monologue :beatnik:
I don't think I can invest my time into reading all that, I just don't know if the payoff is worth it. However the TC does have Richard Feynman as his avatar.
