“Nobody likes to drink alone.”
So I guess I’m having a rum and Coke, since that’s what he’s got for himself.
And so it started.
This was supposed to be my weekend away from having a drink. Today was supposed to be me relaxing on a couch, catching up with a movie I neglected to watch 6 months ago, and having a proper dinner, cooked at home; which hasn’t happened in at least a week.
So much for that.
The rum and Coke leads to an MGD, which leads to La Trappe. Tripel. ‘Strong Beer’ the label says.
There’s no reason why one leads to the other. Or in that order. Except maybe the age-old “liquor before beer, you’re in the clear”.
But it’s good beer. Better than a domestic. Because even with it’s rich, multi-optional, incredibly diverse, cultural cacophony of people from around the world, it’s often tough to get the right beer when you’re in Toronto. Depends on where you go I suppose, but the LCBO doesn’t quite do beer justice.
So on we go. Another week, another weekend, another Saturday, another night.
Another beer gives us an escape from the recurring questions of “what’s next?” or “how’s the hunt going?” It let’s us recall Dodgeball and Vince Vaughn and the merits of the members of the Frat Pack. It let’s us revel in the Raptors’ 30-point lead over the visiting Jazz, or dream about Wiggins. And forget about the worries that’ll come back Sunday evening.
And then another. “One last one,” before we call it a night.
As we step out into the cold, a couple of swift movements and the flick of a few fingers gives light to a burning death stick.
Another temporary high. Another escape from a recurring low.
And a companion for the walk back home.