Leaving Edson

The day I said my goodbyes I hopped into the back of a white pick-up truck with John and Leese. Leese was a 19 year old Edsonite with a pick-up and a jovial heart ache diagnosed when he lost both his girlfriend and his job earlier in the week. His present occupation had him cruising around town with John, a fella from who-knows-where sporting muscle tattoos, a blonde elvis presley haircut, and mean lookin’ ear-bells and shades. John had a puppy named Homie, who sat in the back of the cab with me as the truck toured around the side roads of Edson hollering at girls and smoking their buddy’s on the sidewalks or in the parking lots of surplus stores.

They were kind enough to tend to like me, and I tended to their humour and unlimited laughter which stemmed from their genuinity of character. Needless to say, we were on a mission with no objective. After accompanying these two fella’s into a strangers house to buy weed, I announced a request. I wanted to visit the Edson public library one last time before skipping town that night. They agreed, but not before picking up two cigarette-and-text-messaging addicted fourteen year old girls from a lown-income Edson housing complex near by. The five of us hung out on the grass outisde the library where I repacked my bags and handed out my closest and most meaningfull possessions to my new friends. Any extra weight would be better spread about.

Needless to say, that particular night was game seven of the stanley cup playoff finals. You might be able to place a memory on your wherabouts for this date and time, (it was the second period).

There I knelt in the soft green grass, next to the opened passenger door of a white diesel chevy blasting me with hockey commentary, thinking of how, by this time, I have already come to firmly accept the fact that I was finally going home to Ontario. I had the gang drive me to the Greyhound bus station as period three began. It didn’t look good for the Oilers, but my mind was more focussed on whether or not I had said a proper goodbye to everyone. Anna, Ben, Kimiko, Kristian, Adam, Bronwyn and a few others had rented a van by this point and planned on leaving for the coast that night. It occured to me that I may never see Bronwyn or Anna again. At least for a long while.

Just then, our truck whizzed by Anna, who was walking on the sidewalk. As John commented on how hot she was, I said "woah, that’s my buddie Anna!". John, with his bicep clad in black tattoo design, rugged sunglassed facial expression framed by elongated, blonde side burns, called out "Yo Anna!". She turned and caught site of the truck, her expression presented severe confusion.

That’s when we picked up the hitch-hiker from Halifax. She sat in the back with Homie, the two skanks and myself. I conversed with Amy overtop of the heads of the skanks about popular hostels and coffee shops in North-end Halifax. I was let out of the chevy, with my duffle and my drum and said my goodbyes to my new friends.  As they drove off I went into the station to watch the game.

Not five minutes later did the chevy pull up outside. "We missed you man!", cried Leese. I gave him my favourite British camo-tilly jacket and a bag of shrooms earlier, and I guess that was enough to buy his everlasting friendship. He gave me his phone number, and a mountain-dew slush-puppy with jamaican rum mixed into it for good luck. Amy, the hitch-hiker from Halifax had with her a cardboard sign that read "BC or Bust!", and she gave me a pair of steel-toed boots. Coincidentally, she had with her a guitar and sat with me while I waited and played for me my favourite songs by Against Me!. I sang along with what I had and she made the highlight of my whole day.

It wasn’t long until I was on an enormous bus full of Edsonites, due East. The oilers had lost, I thought of Stephan. However, my road trip had only just begun.