I return -- the last crush of final assignments and panic-inducing sales conferences are finito, and I am free until January. But, last night. Oh, last night..... I can't quit you.And by "quit you," I mean I cannot process just how events spun so off track.
Original Plans:
- Attend the last overview course, learn about scholarly publishing.
- Meet-up with all the kids from our program at 8 PM, and attend Ship Sharp's fundraising event at The Boat.
Straight-forward, right? The process was A-->B-->C, and then home again.
But no. No, no. I realize now just how much 2010 is not the Year of the Moffatt.
The Real Events:
- Drove 40 minutes to Kipling subway station to allow for a later night out. Started strolling to the underground path when I realized: Where are my keys? Imagine me pawing the window, staring at the keys nestled in the front seat cup holders.
- Called Mom so she could drive the back-up keys over. I did mention I was 40 minutes from home, right? And that I couldn't leave the car alone since the keys were so visible? And it was about -5C at that point? Did I also mention Mom has never been to the Kipling Station before? And that there are no clear signs indicating where the Kipling Station is? Did I also mention I suck at giving directions? Yep.
- Arrived downtown ten minutes late for class. Booked it across Yonge-Dundas Square where I wiped out on the pavement. And I mean wiped out. As in, four people were around me in four seconds helping me up and asking, "OHMYGOD, are you okay?!" My knee is swollen this morning.
- Ran into A and B, two girls from the program. Turns out our lecture was moved to another building, despite the fact that all night courses take place in ONE building only. None of us knew where the other room was, and a security guard offered the most confusing directions imaginable. Translation: Class is cancelled.
- Ran into K, who was also confused over the sign, but arrived later than the original group had. Decided to go to B's house to hang out before The Boat.
- Had an awesome time at B's for a few hours. Played the most cerebral version of Kings ever. Also discussed: party subs, December birthdays, how much older I am than everyone else even though I don't look it (yaaay!), how wild K's family is, how straight-laced mine is, plans for our publishing careers.
- 9 PM. B's friends still hadn't arrived. S texted B, told her he was heading out soon. Beer cut through rising nervousness, at least for a short while.
- 10 PM. B's friends arrived. No one but the publishing kids wanted to leave.
- 10:30 PM. Still trying to corral people who were at various stages of drinking/creeping sobriety. S arrived at The Boat with no one else from our program there.
- 11 PM. Managed to get people on the street. K and I were sober, everyone else was not quite. B tried to direct a crowd wandering in at least three different directions at once.
- 11:30 PM. Realized the people who said they were going to stop in at Pizza Pizza to pick up a slice were gone for 20 minutes. They sat down to eat. We were all waiting outside. Did I mention we were still on Front St. at this point? And The Boat is in Kensingtion Market area? Check out the interactive map --> here. Also, the Dundas St. W. streetcar had gone off the tracks earlier in the afternoon to add to the confusion.
- 11:45 PM. K and I split off from the group. K was exhausted, had to work the next morning at 8 AM. I had steadily lost hope for the second half of the night.
- 12:00 AM. Arrived at St. Patrick Station. Could not orient myself to the map. Realized if I made it to The Boat, I would just have to turn around to make sure I got back to Kipling Station before the trains stopped at 1:30 AM.
- 12:30 AM. Back at Kipling Station, defeated. Read a text from The Advocate asking about my whereabouts. Felt very cinematic at this point, surreal.
- 1 AM. Back home, icing my knee. Wondering how this would have looked as a bizarre, arts hauz film. Collapsed in bed.
***
In a nutshell, it was a strange night. I don't often experience strange nights like that. I felt disoriented, and not on account of the beer, either.
I had a three-hour window where the world was right.
We were all sitting around, sipping drinks, talking arrogant about the future. I was in a good place, mingling with new people who were interested in attaining the same goals as me. And the thought of connecting this new network with the established network of people from high school felt right. I was buzzing at the prospect of one artistic crowd blending with another. I'd been talking about The Boat all week, and the ladies were excited to get there and dancedancedance.
And then I watched the night unravel. I felt removed from it, oddly. I was watching the beer pounded back, I was watching the clock ticking forward, I was watching the red-and-green CN Tower lit up from B's window -- the whole scene was like a glass floor cracking under foot. I traced the lines out, and knew there wasn't a single thing I could do to stop it.
And then I knew 2011 has to be different. In all possible senses, it has to be.
