The Day Happy Ian Went Away

Yes it’s 3pm Saturday November 20th and I’m still blogging. I’m sitting here in the corner of our empty living room munching on a ham & cheese sammich that AC made for me, chugging down what’s more than likely one of the last pops I’ll be having in a long while – least till I find my hook up in Iqaluit. Yes I’m a popaholic and like any true addict I’ll find my fix one way or another up there. I’m looking at the few Rubbermaid bins laying around with various wares in them and am kinda taken aback at how easy the packing and moving went yesterday.

Wilke Movers Ltd came knocking on our door promptly at 8am. The three man crew of fellas (whose names I can’t quite remember) flew through our apartment in a flurry of packing paper and cardboard cartons. They were so bloody quick that for most of the morning Suzanne and I were on our toes trying to keep them from packing some things we wanted to have on hand away. They seemed somewhat unchallenged by the packing job put before them and often asked us several times if we were sure there wasn’t anything else they could bag and tag. Their zealous approach allowed them to have most of our life boxed up in about 3 hours. They finished early and bid us good luck up north. It was 11:45am and they said the movers probably be around at 12:30pm. We thought we’d have a little bit of time to do some last minute sorting but lo and behold, as the clock tolled 12pm the movers arrived full of life and ready to do some heavy lifting.

Once again we were running around like chickens with our heads cut off as the movers scurried in and out of our apartment like little worker ants. There were pleasantly thorough with their inventory cataloging and care for our stuff.  Poor Suzanne couldn’t witness the controlled chaos of the movers firsthand because she had to make a last minute dentist’s office visit. Let’s just say that she took longer getting her teeth worked over than it took for them to load the truck. Our modular existence made our move insanely quick. They were handing me the papers by 2pm. She returned home at around 3:30pm all drugged up and achy and we took the foot off the gas a bit and worked at a snail’s pace sorting the little amount of belongings we had left. We had an engagement set up for 8pm with some friends, but the stress of the day of moving caught up to us big time. Although running on little sleep and even less food we weren’t about to let our adoring friends down.

I have to admit. It wasn’t quite how I expected my last Friday night in Ontario to be. I feel rotten for being the crap on the shoe near the tail end of the evening, but as the night progressed (or devolved from my point of view) I slipped further and further into a grimy and unpolished mood. I certainly wasn’t my normal chipper self. You know how you sometimes have to put on the smile even when you’re really not in the mood to, just to not disturb the flow of the evening? Well my ability to do so came to a crashing stop at roughly 11:30pm. Having started the festivities at a bar… no correct that… a good ole boy watering hole I should have know a tailspin was imminent. It was apparently “hip hop night” in the redneck bar which I found to be painfully ironic. Even though it was deemed “hip hop night” I think I heard maybe 3 or 4 actual hip hip songs in the short time we were there. I suppose that was a blessing in disguise considering I’m one of those blasphemous black people who doesn’t care for hip hop all too much. Being the only person of color in there though (and an inescapable New Yorker for life) let’s just say my radar was on uber-sensitive. After witnessing some of KW’s drunken finest on the dance floor and mowing through a pretty sad batch of nachos, I was pleased to see another brutha show up. Unfortunately he didn’t seem too thrilled to be there either. The conversations at our table centered around work, the people at work and the experiences at work. The problem was I didn’t work there. These were my wife’s work friends so I was kind of in smile-and-nod mode while I nursed my Blue. Don’t get me wrong. I dig my wife’s work friends and love them to death but when they get into chatty-office-talk mode, I end up tuning out and drifting off into Ian’s make believe world.

Anyway, no one was really having a great time at the roadhouse so the entourage decided to pick up camp and move the party to another location. Word of advice for people out there who have friends who like karaoke. Do not go with the flow if that’s not your bag. They won’t take offense and you’ll end up saving yourself a lot of pain and torture in the process. I should have taken my own advice. Maybe it was the fact that I was over-tired or maybe I was just so desperate to hang out with them that I went along with the crowd like a silly little lemming. We ended up at yet another local dive called The Corner Pub. Yes… it’s actually on the corner of Charles street and Ottawa. I’ll openly admit it wasn’t nearly as bad as the other place. In fact it was quite cozy, welcoming and friendly. I’ve never been one for the bar scene anyway so I went in with a chip on my shoulder. Add to the fact that it was karaoke night, that spelled the untimely death of Happy Ian. Karaoke is Japanese for tone deaf. Did you know that? Despite some rather surprising performances by Jimmy and Laura, my night was spent listening to the unmerciful massacring of good songs by the locals. Once again work-talk followed us all the way from the roadhouse and continued at the Corner Pub. Jimmy, my only source of non-work related conversation, was too busy making new friends and showing off his vocal talents so I just sat there watching muted hockey on the big screen.

Did I ever mention how much I LOVE hockey?

Anyway the night pretty much ended with me throwing in the towel and heading back to AC’s house for the night with Suzanne. I felt bad being the stick in the mud but I was totally out of my element. I recall sitting there most of the night wondering what the cats were doing back at home. It’s sad that I probably would have had a better time in the empty apartment with the cats than I did at those lovely bars. If I had it to do all over again, I wouldn’t change a thing though. It was great seeing everyone one last time and I wouldn’t trade that in for anything. I’m just sorry I was such a downer for most of the evening.

Oh well… guess I better get back to sorting again. Just wasted yet another hour proofreading the dang thing. ;p

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3 thoughts on “The Day Happy Ian Went Away

  1. I share your disdain for hip hop (and rap)…it is NOT music!

    “Karaoke is Japanese for tone deaf.” Totally agree…Saint John is crawling with karaoke places…scary!

    Wendy

  2. I don’t think I have moved in my adult life without packing my stuff and loading it in a truck myself. I can’t imagine how odd it must be to watch someone else box it up and drive it away.

    Are you flying to Iqualit?

    • Sorry for the late response. Yes, we flew from Ottawa to Iqaluit. It’s really weird. They have flights from like 3 different airlines that make daily flights here, but they all arrive at roughly the same time – one after another.

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