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24K Clean
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- Written by: Rod Boyle
- Category: People
- Hits: 1941
...December and we get a visit from M***, brother of J****, the nephew's x-roomate. M*** and his Fiance, M***, major partier and junkie, but he's looking good, well dressed, he's lost a lot of weight, complexion is clear, he's sporting a giant bright gold pendant, Chinese in style, "24 Karat Gold" he tells us as we admire it, it's inset with tiny gems and is cut to give the maximum flash, he's got on a large gold bracelet and ring as well, and as we notice he tells us "24 Karat Gold" without being prompted.
It's his reward to himself, he's been up on the farm in Northern Saskatchewan, 4 months, no booze or cigarettes, "I'm clean" he tells us, this bling is all to celebrate his conquering of his demons. It's hilarious, for me, alcohol and cigarettes, they're a problem, a vice for sure, for him they're a bloody virtue, but I know what he means. This was the guy that a couple of Thanksgiving's ago at J****'s place fucked the turkey in the middle of the dining room, and carried on long after anyone found it funny...the nephew still tells the story, one of many in his repertoire of stories about M***.
I notice his watch, nice, Rolex submariner, stainless steel, this sets him off, he tries to persuade me that it's an investment, shows me graphs on his phone as to how they've kept their value over the years, I hum and haw, I'm not so convinced, but if he likes it that's all that matters...
Talk, politely, of other things, he figures he's going to hang in Calgary for a few months, 'til the end of winter, asks about the cost of hosting his wedding, brings the conversation around to the subject of his watch again, he's merely swapped addictions, constantly rewarding himself with the most expensive and outrageous jewelry he can find, the arguments over investment, their his excuse. He's doomed, the nephew and I know it, there's no chance of him staying clean in Calgary, all of his friends, family, they're all partiers, junkies, addicts, his only hope is to get back to Saskatchewan, tonight...
***
He's in again, a couple of weeks later, he's not holding it together, he's sketchy as all out, we can all recognize it, the nephew guesses Oxycontin, he's come in for the sole purpose of arguing the value of Rolex Submariners his fiance tells me, he's got more graphs, wants to debate the relative value of investments, Rolex Submariner vs Real Estate, Gold, other investments, it's funny and I don't want to wind him up, try and let it slide, he's eating risotto with his fingers and wiping them on the tablecloth, he's not wearing his bling, his 24K Clean out the window, this restaurant, we just cater to a better class of addicts...
Junkies and Addicts
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- Written by: Rod Boyle
- Category: Miscellany
- Hits: 2946
...at the restaurant, the owner calls me, out the back door, there's something going wrong at the mall next door...
A man, older, late 40's, early 50's, staggering, falling against the wall, attempting to open the door of the dollar shop, failing, can't stand...
"Is he on drugs?" the owner laughs, but he's concerned, and I reassure him probably not, I'm the willfully blind, don't want to see what is clear, I excuse it, he's handicapped, don't want to be too quick to judge, maybe cerebral palsy, something else, but he's trying, trying again to get into the dollar store, to stand, to fall, he's not succeeding.
We go over to check it out. The Nephew and I. He's standing, lurching, teetering, toppling, eyes rolled back in his head, only the whites, jumping, shouting, unintelligible, nonsense in cave-man speak, jump, fall, recover, repeat...
The owner of the shop, he's called 911, they're giving him the gears...
...meanwhile, the nephew and I look for a friend, we find him, around the corner, short, portly bald man in a track suit, head to toe in bad tattoos, "Is that your friend...?" we ask, he comes round the corner, looks aghast at his mate, "Somebody must have spiked his drink.." he tells us, then yells at his buddy "Snap out of it mate! Snap out of it!".
"Should we call an ambulance?" we ask, we already have, he says no, he's clutching his own drink in a McDonald's cup, won't let it go, he's fumbling with his phone, tells us he's gonna call a cab...
The owner of the dollar shop is having no luck with the 911 operator, it's 5:00 on a Friday night, cars are backed up Center Street, there are no cops in sight, the liquor store parking lot is full, he puts me on with the 911 operator. "Can I get a description of the suspects..?" she begins, I comply, but there's no danger either of these guys are going anywhere, the first one now is lying on the snow in the parking lot, spit and vomit around his mouth, eyes rolled back in his head, breathing shallow, snoring loudly, his mate, his has just kicked in, he's still trying to pick up his phone, he's made it to the bus shelter and dropped his phone and despite numerous attempts just can't seem to pick it up, reaching, missing, reaching, missing, he's clumsy as all fuck but for some reason is clinging to the McDonald's cup, won't let it go, the 911 operator is clarifying lots of irrelevant information, she's unable to deviate from the script, it's an OD, probably Naxalone would be a good idea, she's wanting more information, in case they up and leave, nothing important, merely the keep the caller on the line until the police arrive...
The police, one officer, short, pulls up in the parking lot, probably a 10 minute response time, brushes us off, the owners of the dollar shop are trying to make the man down comfortable with a blanket, I wave them off, he's too far gone, won't notice a thing, the police officer gets on his phone, shares no information about what he suspects the OD to be, merely ignores everyone, when they offer to assist him he tells us to keep an eye on buddy, buddy in the bus shelter still trying to pick up his phone, buddy isn't going anywhere, even if he could pick it up, dial a cab, no one would give him a ride, he's OD'ing as well...
Another police car, an ambulance, buddy on the ground takes an hour in the ambulance to be stabilized, the police load up after a long persuasion buddy in the bus shelter, no feedback for the callers, the owners of the dollar store or myself, merely cops being cops...
Back to Nelson
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- Written by: Rod Boyle
- Category: Miscellany
- Hits: 2257
Back, a long 5 weeks in Calgary, minimal earnings, less expenditures, child support, rent, winter tires, etc. it's nearly a break even venture.
And long, the drive, winding roads covered with sand and snow, the windows and headlights covered in that blinding winter slurry...
But, finally, not home, but perhaps becoming...
Xmas 2016
- Details
- Written by: Rod Boyle
- Category: Miscellany
- Hits: 1913
Bloggin with my thumbs here so posts will be short...
The Xmas plan to return to Nelson thwarted by the weather, road conditions throughout Alberta being treacherous, I resign myself to Xmas Eve dinner at the bosses. The day, busy with the daughter, last minute shopping, lunch, then head over.
Theee are only a few guests, the owner, his girlfriend, the nephew, J***, D***, retired cop, a few others...
The dinner, assorted crab legs an inch thick, lobster tails, prawns, calamari and mussels, saffron risotto, he's outdone himself. But it's what he does. And sitting next to the nephew, the nephew, 7:00 PM and he's already drunk, going off on tangents, wanting to search through my phone, inventing lurid affairs that he suspects me of, telling tales of the gay bar, showing inappropriate videos.
We retire to the garage for a cigarette, D***, the ex cop, rolls a joint for the nephew, the nephew's the only one smoking, nobody seems to mind...he tries to get me to smoke, tells everyone that I smoke, all the time, he's making it up and these little tirades are losing their amusement value...
..Back inside the night is fast degenerating, the nephew, now fully incapacitated, is laughing hysterically to himself, the owner is argueing qith everyone at the table over a bottle of Amarone that was uncorked and drank without his permission, he's blaming the nephew's friend, also Italian, but not as pale skinned as he would have liked him to be...
It's turning fast into a shitshow. The owner's girlfriend is yelling across the table "We're just white trash", he's not listening, it's time to go...
I'm giving a ride to A****, the nephew's friend, the nephew comes out, he wants to find a party, go to the gay bar, wants to escape the shitshow as well, chanting in the seat beside me as we drive into calgary "GAY BAR! GAY BAR! GAY BAR!...."
The gay bar isn't open, closed, it's Xmas Eve after all, we head down 17th, surprisingly there are bars open, Watchman's, Ming, I find it a bit sad, I'm a firm believer the world should close on Christmas, The European and Christian world at least...
He's been texting away the qhole while, the demon wants out, he's.looking for a party, for him it's been a long 7 weeks, for.me.only 2, but long as well. He has a couple of nibbles, G*** almost invites him to his father in laws place, then thinks better of it, texts him a withdrawel of his offer. But he finds another offer, Alesshandro, house party full of Italians, deep in the northwest, another 30 minutes driving...
All the way he's reminding us to behave, these are nice Italians, they felt sorry for him, we'll just stop by for a drink...
...It'a traditional family Xmas, 4 couples, 40's, a dozen or so children, 4 bottles of liqueur on the table, lemocella, herbal liqueurs, they're sipping them from 1 oz. shot glasses, all together they've drunk maybe 5 ounces out of all the bottles...it's clearly not the party he was looking for...
He begins be regaling them with tales of Alesshandro's misadventures at the Filipino house party they were invited to after the gay bar, predictable, funny, but maybe not.so much for Alesshandro...
They're very politely tolerating us.
I'm trying to leave, get the nephew out of here, he's hit their bar harder in 5 minutes than the 8 of them have managed in 4 hours, he's loudly yelling that we have weed, they probably guessed, the smell has clung to us, advertising us as degenerates of the worst sort, time to leave now before they throw us out, finally, finally...
...in the car the nephew "Can you imagine me there, sober, all night? my god...", and it does seem a fate worse than death...he continues..."Did yoh see Alesshandro...in that paper crown...he wasn't even drunk...if my father saw me in a paper crown...sober...40 years old...on Xmas Eve he'd kill me..."
I get it, completely, this railing against the middle class, the oblivious, wilfully ignorant and blind, "little boxes", but it's Xmas and we'll leave them be. Doubtless they breathed a heavy sigh of relief...
Back on his phone, it's midnight now, or close enough, and he's texting everyone, looking for a party, nobody's replying, even the junkies got family, and we find our way eventually to the Ship and Wanker.
It's busy. Packed with the orphans of Calgary, those without family or friends, the dedicated social and career alcoholics, I'm far too sober for this...
We share a booth with a celebratory group, boyfriend, telling me stories of every time he's been drunk here, every time he's been here, it's his second home...
...and his girlfriend, cozying in beside me, suggestive tongue in cheek, I'm not drunk, could never be drunk enough for this...
The night, it careens along, there are girls at the bar shamelessly working it, Xmas day, wake up with a stranger, charming...
And the nephew, ever drunker, ordering rounds of shots, dozens at a tim7e, chatting now to a.5' 300 lb bbw, distinct "Blame Betty" style, showing pictures of his dog, the "sensitive" him...she's not buying it, declines his advances...
The night ends at my place, my housesitting gig in the far NE of Calgary, Xmas day, crisp, beautiful, driving them both home, 2 PM and I am free...
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