Another night out in Edmonton in the books. This Saturday I went out for a friends birthday. Pretty average night out: girls were crying, boys were buying, creeps were trying, my feet were dying. I felt bad for my friend who’s birthday it was because it seemed like everything was going wrong so I stuck it out even thought I didn’t really know anybody and just tried to look happy without looking creepy while I stood by myself. One (very) young dude took this as his opportunity. An encounter with [dude who’s name rhymes with Chad… let’s call him Chad]:
Chad: “So, um.. I have a question for you.”
Me: “Okay..”
C: “What’s your name?”
Me, realizing this is going to be great entertainment: “Ariel”
C: “I’m Chad, do all of your tattoos have like meanings or do you just like them or like why did you get them?”
Me: “Uh.. I guess yeah, they all have a symbolic meaning to me”
He proceeds to go through all the ones he can see asking what they represent. I mean I just met the guy I don’t want to explain my whole life story so I change the subject to if he has any tattoos.
C, pointing to a baseball sized area on his crotch… well slightly to the left: “Yea I have like a rose like right here”
Me: “Why did you get that?”
C: “I don’t know I was wasted. Me and my buddy both got them”
Me: “You have matching rose tattoos on your crotch with your friend? How bromantic.”
C: “Yea I have other ones that you’ll see later but like I was also wasted. SO like what do you do?”
Me, still cringing at his assumption: “I’m an artist”
C: “You should make me a painting!”
Me: “If you pay me, sure! So what do you do?”
C: “I play hockey, can’t you tell? For the Kelowna Bears (*honestly don’t remember the team name) I have a house there. Well like my parents do and I live in it.. but not like in the basement or anything… I live in the normal part…”
I also learn that he was studying to be a biomedical engineer. I ask him why,
C: “Well like I wanted to go into engineering and my mom told me I had to do biomedical because she’s in the pharmaceutical field. She works for [insert company name that apparently I should have heard of], she’s like 62% into it. I don’t even really like biomedical, I might do like civil.”
Me, wondering what being 62% into it means: “Well that’s cool”
This is the most human interaction I’ve had at the bar which isn’t saying much. If anything, at least Chad can keep a conversation going.
C: “You’re probably wondering what happened to my face. I was stung by a bee. I was wearing safety goggles and everything and like it somehow got in there and stung me”
Me, not wondering what happened to his face at all: “Oh, I thought that was your regular face”
C: “So you thought my face was half fat, half really good looking?”
Me, caught between a rock and hard place: “Sure…”
Chad is still waiting for me to comment on his handsomeness.
Me, feeling like the expiration date on this conversation has passed: “Well I’m going to go find my friend and say goodbye now”
C: “Well can I text you and like ask you to go for lunch sometime?”
Me: “I’m going to say no”
C, distraught: “Okay”
Me: “But thanks for the conversation!”
Chad has already moved on.
So since that night wasn’t going anywhere I decided to get some tacos. My friend Hugo recently opened his own food truck called “Street Tacos” which runs on Friday and Saturday nights 10pm-3am on 109st by the common and the Petro Canada. I got a beet taco and all my troubles melted away. Then I drove home because I don’t drink anymore and can drive anywhere and anytime I want! It’s great.