A Notso Typical Sunday

I hate Sunday nights.  It's that really mellow day of the week that I find myself missing having someone around...


SO....


I've taken to getting dressed up city slicker casual, and walking down to the Eaton's Centre to shop for the afternoon.


Then I'll go home, drop off my packages...back down the elevator and head across the street to go to Jack Astor's for that deadly Sesame Chicken stir fry for dinner.  And a Jacked Up Wodka.  Or two.


I find myself a little booth and hide while I eat...using the time to catch up on phone calls and texts..just saying hello to friends and family back home.


This Sunday had me a little more distracted than normal, as I was wrapped up in thoughts about a dear friend who was diagnosed with cancer.  For him, it's the second time he's had it...and at the moment, he's unable to face treatment.  I say 'at the moment' because I hope he changes his mind.  


As I smile at the waiter bringing my drink, I'm thinking about this man and the fear he's wrestling...the children, the family...  I'm thinking about how he wants to disappear down south and die instead of fighting through months of pain, hoping that the treatment cures what ails him.


I'm wondering what I would do if I were in his shoes.  I understand being too tired to fight...we all do.  And I understand 'why me'...


It's hard to gather why these things happen to good people.  And it's my own selfishness that wants to grab a hold of my friend and beg him to stay and fight.  But I don't want him to fight for me, or his family...or even his children. If he chooses this battle, it must be for himself and his desire to live..and find happiness.


The waiter brings my dinner and I smile and thank him...he pauses a moment to wink and flirt...which is strange, considering he's flaming gay and beautiful that way...I send him for another drink...


The second drink comes and I am grateful..  Gawd knows the wodka doesn't make the sadness go away..but she helps jest a leeettle...no?


I silently get through not quite half of what was set before me before I push my plate away.


A man wearing a big grin glances my way, pointedly looks at the empty seat across from me and asks if I'm alone.  


I shrug and smile...yup.


"Can I join you?" says he.


Why not?  Conversation would be nice....


"Sure, that would be nice" says me.


Plate cleared and drinks poured..the fine young gentleman introduces himself with an accent that is familiar but not registering at all..  He no doubt thought me daft...  


"Where are you from?" I ask.  It's Sunday night football and I lean over the table to hear his reply over the crowd hollering.


"Where do you think?" Says he.  Oh...it's gonna be like that is it?  Forcing cerebral activity as I sip my third Jacked Up wodka (ps...if it's Jacked Up..it's a double)...


sigh


"Well, from across the pond...England?" I'm sort of with it.  See my Speak Canadian blog further down....


"Think bigger pond...further than the Atlantic" he says.  This poor lad thought he was in for intelligent conversation but I'm about to disappoint him with my blank stare.   Still mentally dragging myself out of the gloomy mood I was in I mumble apologies and shake my head.


"Australia" says he.


The light bulb flickered momentarily over my head.


Knowing the only way to distract him from my apparent temporary (I hope) mental retardation would be to keep him talking, I start firing questions at him.


"Are you here on business?  What do you do?  How long are you here for?"


The poor man must have been wondering if he should have stayed at the bar.  He was witty enough to joke about my questioning and respond with a couple of his own.  It wasn't long before the conversation turned to work.  I mention that I'm in construction.


"Ah...they just finished a big project in my town"  he continues and all I hear is "blahdebo dubai".  Dubai...that's familiar...I just got an email about the monstrosity they built in the Middle East..but this dude's from Australia... Oh for the love of gawd did someone suck out my brain when I wasn't looking??  Too much time at the mall???


He cleared up that mystery...he's from Australia but living in Dubai.  oooooohhhhh


Just to make me feel a bigger idiot, turns out he's a pilot.  He was on stopover... dead tired and just aiming to keep awake for a couple of hours so as to get a good night's sleep before he took off again on another 13 hour flight.


Once again I refer to my blog about speaking Canadian.  When he mentioned the airline he worked for, I drew a blank.  I'm fricking brilliant on the fly at times.  


"Is that a small airline?"  says me.


He just about choked on his beer.


At some point he must have figured out that his new drink mate was a tad slow, and it might be best to use pictures and small words.  He kindly got out his IPhone and showed me the LUXURY plane he flies for Emirates by the way...for crissake ..could I be any kewler dude??  I flipped through a dozen beautiful destinations I can only dream of seeing someday...  This man has seen the world..  


Pause to chew lip before continuing...


I'm not sure when it happened, but the conversation turned religious.  He is an atheist and I am a Christian.  I still, by the way, find his belief that when he dies, he will simply be gone..well...sad.  I like believing in something better, in knowing in my heart that someday we will find peace.


And this belief is what carries me though my shittiest days...and certainly is what gives me hope for my dear friend.  No matter what he chooses.


I think my drinking companion and I were both ready to throw in the towel at the same time, and knowing we were both tired and had put our best social foot forward for a couple of hours, we parted ways friends.


I trudge across the street in the light drizzle.  Smiled and gave the security guards a cheerful good night.


Crawled into bed, tired and worried.  


Hoping that my friend finds peace, no matter what he decides.