"I love Canada so far."
That's good to hear.
"Don't mind us, we're just a bunch of drunk Americans."
One of them comes up to the counter to get a pack of smokes. He asks me where's a good place to party. Well, it depends on what you're looking for. The Seahorse is my favourite place on weekends and it's just up the street from here. "Somewhere for hard rock." You should go to the Attic tonight. Heavy music and 2 dollar drinks. Another one says "Oh yeah and the wet t-shirt contests." My co-worker tells him about the Palace and I sell smokes to the first one. They all leave.
A few minutes later, I'm off.
"I love you!"
Uh,...thanks. Shit. KC said he'd meet me. Did he go down to Loomis with Paul, or is he up by the library? Well, I'll just go up the street a bit and have a smoke.
"Ha ha. That was the best response." [That's also how I responded to Adrian when he said those words to me in grade 10]
"Are you 3 to 4 meters from the entranceway of the store?"
Uh, I don't know.
"Are we those loud, obnoxious Americans you read about in the paper?"
I don't read about them...
They're starting to come over to talk to me. I move a little farther from the door. Before you know it, I'm surrounded by these men, smoking. "Would you be offended if I called you an Eskimo?" I'm not an Eskimo. To his friend, "See, I told you Canadians weren't Eskimos. Those are people from Alaska." I think there are some in Canada, too, like in the Northwest Territories and stuff. "Oh, we're not looking to go to the Northwest Territories." Somehow, this led them to get into an argument about who's hometown was furthest south. "I'm from Georgia." My stepfather's from Louisiana. "I'm from Louisiana!" "Yeah, but I'm from further south; it's right in line with Florida." "No..." I look around and notice KC coming around pizza corner.
"I love you" that same guy says to a girl as she walks by. She's startled and gives him a dirty look. "Do I smell like a dirty American?" he asks me as he leans a little closer. No, I don't smell anything. Wait, you do kinda smell like a Yankee. Well, you guys have a good night, I'm gonna take off with this guy. I hope you find your wet t-shirt contest.
Oh, it's bound to be an interesting summer.
That's good to hear.
"Don't mind us, we're just a bunch of drunk Americans."
One of them comes up to the counter to get a pack of smokes. He asks me where's a good place to party. Well, it depends on what you're looking for. The Seahorse is my favourite place on weekends and it's just up the street from here. "Somewhere for hard rock." You should go to the Attic tonight. Heavy music and 2 dollar drinks. Another one says "Oh yeah and the wet t-shirt contests." My co-worker tells him about the Palace and I sell smokes to the first one. They all leave.
A few minutes later, I'm off.
"I love you!"
Uh,...thanks. Shit. KC said he'd meet me. Did he go down to Loomis with Paul, or is he up by the library? Well, I'll just go up the street a bit and have a smoke.
"Ha ha. That was the best response." [That's also how I responded to Adrian when he said those words to me in grade 10]
"Are you 3 to 4 meters from the entranceway of the store?"
Uh, I don't know.
"Are we those loud, obnoxious Americans you read about in the paper?"
I don't read about them...
They're starting to come over to talk to me. I move a little farther from the door. Before you know it, I'm surrounded by these men, smoking. "Would you be offended if I called you an Eskimo?" I'm not an Eskimo. To his friend, "See, I told you Canadians weren't Eskimos. Those are people from Alaska." I think there are some in Canada, too, like in the Northwest Territories and stuff. "Oh, we're not looking to go to the Northwest Territories." Somehow, this led them to get into an argument about who's hometown was furthest south. "I'm from Georgia." My stepfather's from Louisiana. "I'm from Louisiana!" "Yeah, but I'm from further south; it's right in line with Florida." "No..." I look around and notice KC coming around pizza corner.
"I love you" that same guy says to a girl as she walks by. She's startled and gives him a dirty look. "Do I smell like a dirty American?" he asks me as he leans a little closer. No, I don't smell anything. Wait, you do kinda smell like a Yankee. Well, you guys have a good night, I'm gonna take off with this guy. I hope you find your wet t-shirt contest.
Oh, it's bound to be an interesting summer.
posted by crystal at
2:40 pm
2 Comments:
that sounded almost like a twilight zone episode...
Robin
By
Anonymous, at 5/9/04 4:58 pm
As I have now spent more than 10 minutes at a time on Blowers street, I'm realizing it is very much like the twilight zone, like when someone stole another customer's hat yesterday because he thought he was famous.
"Fine, if you won't sign something, I'll take your hat."
I just can't believe some people.
By
crystal, at 5/9/04 4:58 pm
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