June 4th, 2015
I want to sleep in super late. I really do. But instead, there’s a gaggle of strange women in my kitchen cackling at 9:45am. I pull the covers over my head and attempt to muffle the light and dim the noise. I am aiming to sleep until 12 or 1, but I end up rolling around in that twilight of crap sleep where you’re not sure if you were just laying there, or actually sleeping.
I receive a call from the police department that say that I can get my prints taken today at 1:30pm, but I decline. At this point, I don’t know if this would be a waste of money or not, and I’m kind of hungover. I get moving up, research various things, and finally check my e-mail at 1:40pm. Goddamn it. I had an e-mail saying that a physical copy would do. Great. Ah well, here’s hoping something will work out, or the Aussie clearance will buy me some time.
I had originally decided to say “stuff the gym today,” but some plans fell through and I do it anyway. Thor says he’s down, which I end up waiting a half hour for him to be ready. Work out, blah blah, then go home and rush shower as I agreed to go to the pizza deal today. In retrospect, this might have been a bad decision because I missed the coffee tasting! Damn it! That coffee place is so cool, and they only have a coffee tasting once a month on the first Thursday! Only one more chance to experience such pretentiousness…
Italian Alberto, Italian(?) Mario, Brazillian Caio, Laurens, and I walk to get the $9 all-you-can-eat pizza and pint deal at Universal Bar, hosted by Peter Pan’s. You sign up before 6, pay Pan’s, then everyone has the big sit down. Starving, I’m not feeling like talking very much.
Once the pint comes, it at least puts some fuel in the engine; I strike up conversation with Caio and Alberto. It’s weird meeting another Caio, as there has always only been one to me. Don’t worry Caio; you will always be the one, true Caiopia. We talk about the situation in Brazil, the FIFA debacle (what an evil organization), and about how every country seems to have two things: A city where everyone who lives there thinks its the shit, but people outside don’t (maybe even hating it (ours is Toronto; Watch the documentary “Lets All Hate Toronto”)); the other is some group that people don’t regard as real citizens - a schism of sorts. For the Germans, it seems like it’s the Bavarians, and likely vice versa. For us, it seems like there’s the divide between the English and French.
Mario is not full and wants to go to Mustang. I want to go home and sleep in a pizza coma, but tag along because this seems like a better story. Adventure! Mario is a monster; he ate pasta before leaving home, then all-you-can-eat pizza, then the beer and pint deal. WTF, mate. Seems like he’s following Steve’s “Thanksgiving diet” where you get Thanksgiving stuffed at every meal!
At Mustang, we relax on a couch, Thor, German Pascale, and me. I want to call her Pavlov, forcing myself to think of the famous (flawed) Pascal’s Wager in order to correctly remember which dead man she is. She’s a crossfit person, which I make fun, calling it a cult/church. She agrees and tells stories about it. There is even infighting within the church of Crossfit. Not the place for me.
Everyone leaves around 9pm when Pascale broke the social bubble by leaving. Look for it: when there’s a group of people, the conversation is very stimulated and flowing well, then one person has to go to the washroom and the entire thing falls apart. The social bubble has been popped. Probably a more scientific term for it, but it's my amateur psychology analysis.
At home, Alex asks if I would like to practice my tutoring by helping his English. I’ll think about it but he doesn’t want to pay me so I’m not sure if it’s worth it. Then again, I want to be so good they can’t ignore me, which requires practice and dedication despite no payment.
After rehydrating, I head out to Brazilian night at the game, alone. On the way, I realize that Brazilian Caio may want to go, and stop in at their place to find French Antoine leaving for the very same place. Screw it, I’ll just tag along since he’s leaving right now. We arrive to find no line, the place is bumping, and I have a fun adventure following Antoine on his search through the place for his friends.
I talk with some Czech people, some Brazilians, and dance a little of the Salsa I learn. It was a good night, nothing overly notable, but good ol’ American fun, like baseball and apple pie. Again, I was tired and didn’t want to go, but it feels like the gym - you regret not going much more than going.
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