a) Be devoid of all class and tact
b) Be hard to remember
c) Possibly end in disaster?
Let's find out...
It's the Z-bomb, and myself, chasing some fun in our new town. After meeting some lively characters on a rooftop we decide to head West down Queen Street because they had been partying for something like 40 straight hours, and let's just say we didn't have it in us to sit there while some dude turned up the radio and asked us with the most serious of faces - 'don't you just love this song?'
The answer in my head was NO WAY DUDE, it was the most convoluted mash of middle-of-the-road rock music i had ever heard. Swig, swig, swig, 'let's get out of here Z-bomb!'
Down the street we head, off to our favourite haunt, sink a few beers, and then come back home for a dubstep marathon and some streetball in the park at 5am. We crash out.
So who's Dan and B?
Is this story going anywhere?
Are you high?
Wait.
Yes.
No....why you got something?
Well sir, fast forward about 9 hours, and me and the Z-bomb decide the only way to tackle a Sunday is to head down to the park and chill with some beers and our friend's cute dog, Ziggy (babe magnet extraordinaire). On the approach to the park we pass a vintage clothing stall run by a girl called B. She's really super friendly, not to mention, very easy on the eye. Me and the Z-bomb chat to her and her friend for about 10mins. We discuss Australians, like B's friend James who is also from Melbourne, and the local nightlife in Toronto. It appears there's much more to talk about so we let them know we will come back later on once they are finished at 6pm. It's a date.
We throw a frisbee round with Ziggy who's loving the attention, except until she sees a squirrel and she tries to climb a tree which is hilarious. It's mucho fun until she eats the frisbee and it's game over, much to the amusement of nearby park people. Oh well, time to sit and have some beers. Chillaxing for a moment, i am approached by a hobo called DAN. He's not crazy hobo either, yeah he's missing a few teeth, but he tries his best to look nice. Dan asks if he can borrow a lighter, which i oblige, and he then asks if i mind if he sits down. Not at all, join us.
Dan sees the beers, and asks very nicely if he can have one. Now if he was crazy hobo at this time my answer would have been no, because i don't want to get shivved after two weeks in Toronto, but he's full of manners, so it's no problems. 'Thanks brother, that's very kind of you'.
Dan's uneducated, 60years old, with whispy white stubble on his face. His boots have paint on them because he'll get work wherever he can. Times are tough at the moment, that's why he came down to the park - to forget about it for a while and soak up some sun.
Before i know it, Dan's giving me the lowdown on his life, without being pushy or arrogant, he asks just as many questions of me. We discuss life in Winter in Toronto (fkn cold), and going to downtown Detroit (fkn dangerous). I share some smokes with him, and he keeps saying thank you and cheering me with his beer. I like this guy, his wife had died a few years earlier and i get the impression he hasn't sat and chatted with someone for a while, I'm glad it's me.
Time's flying by, and i realise it's after 6pm. I look over to where the vintage clothing stall is...i mean was. It's gone. Oh no, I've been so distracted by Dan the friendly hobo that I've forgotten to go back and see B. I tell Dan it's been a pleasure, and wish him all the best as i grab my stuff and head over to where the stall was. Gone. Nowhere to be seen. A girl on a nearby bench says we missed B by about 5 mins. I run down to Queen Street, can't see her. Dammit!
It's all over now...OR IS IT?
To Be Continued....
