After getting home from Chapters 919, I organised my Saturday evening to include dinner and a trip out to see Barn Owl, who were releasing their third album. You see, even after all these years, things haven't really changed much: live with Tom, go see Barn Owl ... same old stories. Of course, the previous evening Tom and I had gone to see Up In The Air, which proved to be a fantastic film, but left us both rather parched. Its a good thing the liqour store is right there beside the theatre. Needless to say, thanks to Arturo Perez-Reverte, I walked out with a bottle of Bombay Sapphire. Unfortunetly, we decided to stick to having a beer that night, so when I did get back to Chateaux 128, there was that ghostly blue glow of gin just sitting there, taunting us. When Matt arrived home, Gin and Tonic practically forced itself upon us. I even had the foresight to buy limes!
Its a rare occassion that the three of us can sit down together, so, since we were all there, a second round seemed appropriate. I'm setting myself up for a lengthy story that ends without grace, by the way. You should expect alcohol to be a central element of this story. Anyway, it came time for the three of us to part company, Tom to his business, Matt to his party, and I to my CD release show at Cinecycle. I had never been to cinecycle before, so I didn't really know what to expect.
That night was special, though, because after two and a half years there was a chance that Jack, who has returned from Europe, would be attending. Not to mention a new Barn Owl album. Like I said, basically everything is still the same, despite everything that has changed.
I made it downtown with little incident, but promptly wished I had researched my destination with google street view or something (not that it would have helped). It took me a minute to realise that the spray painted door down an alley off Spadina was actually where I was supposed to be going. However, inside, I did find what I was looking for, and surprise, Jack was there too.
Revelling in the occasion of being able to hang out once again, Jack promptly bought me a beer as I bought him one. Our bartender was Aaron, who wasted no time in telling me that beer was two dollars and "if the cops show up, this is a house party." Back alley? Yes. Sketchy bike repair shop/cinema? Yes. Roomful of political activists (some with prior arrests for said activity)? Yes. Illegal bar? Yes. This seems like the perfect opportunity to get rascally drunk! You're expecting me to get arrested at the end of the story, aren't you? I'm afraid that its nothing so exciting, and rather the simple truth is that my moment of ill-grace was merely falling up an escalator because Jack and I got rascally drunk on cheap two dollar beers while we enjoyed the music AND caught up on some of the things we missed during the two and a half year period he was away.
And look at that, now you don't have to worry about me being long-winded for the rest of my post!
Morale of the story? Beware the mighty escalator when rascally drunk. Its bigger than your shins.