July 1st
Hell on Earth
It comes in the form of an ice cream shop. When I woke up, the sun was shining through (the top part) of my basement window. It was making me feel pretty good, possibly so it could watch me crash and burn later in the day a lot harder.
I had cereal and toast and headed out. As soon as I arrived it was already pretty busy. The rush stopped only once. The rest of the time, there were two lines at both ends curling around the store. All things considered, things went pretty well. I did accidentally explore a red slushie all over myself, and despite donning an apron, the new white tank top I bought is essentially ruined.
I was taken entirely by surprise. I was told by several assumingly reliable sources that Quebec does not celebrate Canada Day. Alas, there were a great deal of activities organized for the water front with concerts and basketballs and children. My feet ache from running around. The people are really laid back here which was a bonus. The patience and kindness here is virtually unheard of in Toronto.
I had two people ask me if I was Japanese today, and another who tipped me 50 cents and said “because you’re Asian,” with a creepy little wink.
At around 5:30, Benoit let Ian and myself escape for dinner since the rush had temporarily died down. Benoit then told me it wasn’t possible for me to leave earlier tonight. I was feeling bummed for about 5 minutes before I had to rush home, cook, eat, and return at 6:15. I hung out with Laura for a bit while I ate, but I had to leave soon after.
Ian was 45 minutes late because he couldn’t distinguish 15 from 50. The rush started again, and it was non-stop for the rest of the night. The guy who gave me a ride from the airport came by as well – he told me his name but I’ve forgotten already. I hooked him up with some free ice cream, and he asked when I was off. I said 10, not being entirely sure.
I had a few experiences with the general rude “jeunesse” as well. A few of them would just say “tu ne comprends?” and ignore both myself and Ian after discovering we were learning French. Otherwise, the people were still very kind and patient.
Fireworks started going off at around 11ish – I went out to throw some garbage away, and the hitchhike gentleman was still there. He asked me when I was done and I told him I was still closing. When I got back from the dumpster, he was gone. I sat on a bench with Ian and watched the fireworks for a little while. They were quite small and unassuming, although there were a few neat ones. We finished closing at around 11:30, and our final tip-out total was 30 odd dollars. I walked with Ian back to our place and called Tristan. His game had been canceled, but he still practiced. I made plans to meet up with him avant Le Pub in what I thought he said 15 minutes. So, I rushed home, changed my clothes, got my crap together and left ASAP. I later found out he meant 15 minutes after 12.
Therefore, I waited an extra 10-15 minutes but it really wasn’t a problem. The night was beautiful. Once he arrived, I hopped into his truck and he parked literally one street down. We walked to my workplace, along the river, then to the crappy restaurant near the bus terminal. The food there is tellement shit. Tristan hadn’t eaten dinner so he ordered a hot dog and fries. Once you’ve gone to Chez Pauline you can never go to any other place ever again.
Our conversation there turned to white socks. He told me another gentleman once told him that girls hated white socks. He aked me to confirm or deny this, to which I replied, the socks are not as important as the person who’s in them. Although white socks with too short dress pants is always funny.
Tristan and I had a lovely night. We walked around the near-empty streets, sat on benches, lay in the grass, watched the stars. We talked about a lot of random crap, but there was also comfortable quietness. He lent me his jacket, then took it back when it was cold. We eventually went back to his truck and he drove me home. After all that, it was about 3 in the morning. We sat in the car in front of my house, shooting the shit, talking nonsense. I then finally wished him the best on his trip back to Quebec (to see Van Halen that lucky bastard). We made plans to meet again once he returned, for more walking, maybe eating, maybe cooking. He wished me a good night and gave me two kisses. I ordered him out of the car again for a hug, which he laughed at and complied. It was a running hug because I have developed a fondness for them. We then talked a little more – I teased him about the hitch hiking dude.
Long story short, he’s willing to be my fallback “chum” if I need one. We hugged again, he kissed my cheeks again, and I gave him a little peck. We said our goodbyes, and he was off.
I am utterly exhausted right now. I have to work tomorrow too. I just took a shower and my hair is wet.
Too bad.
Goodnight.