***
After I ate lunch, I stood outside with some friends. High overhead something caught the group’s attention. It was a lone snowball soaring through the air. We all watched with great interest since based on the trajectory we could guess who the intended target was – Ms. Abraham. The snowball hit the ground right by her feet and disintegrated upon impact. Ms. Abraham did not look too pleased. She looked toward the group and stormed over.
“Come with me,” Ms. Abraham said.
“Who, me?” I asked in disbelief. “What did I do?”
“You know what you did, don’t play dumb with me.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” I pleaded with her as she led me back inside the building. “I didn’t do anything, Ms. Abraham.” It was no use; my defense was ignored. “This is bull—!” I belted out in frustration.
One of the greatest tragedies in life is the unjust incarceration of a man. I was about to find out firsthand what that would be like.
“Take a seat and wait here,” I was instructed, as Ms. Abraham entered the principal’s office.
Muffled through the wall, I heard the accusations of a smug Social Studies teacher proudly showing off her catch to the leader of the tribe. “I caught Trevor throwing snowballs outside.”
A few moments later, I was called in. I stood at the edge of the principal’s desk and waited for instructions to sit.
“Have a seat,” Ms. Bennett said. “Ms. Abraham, thank you for bringing this matter to my attention. I’ll take it from here.”
Ms. Abraham exited the office, not before giving me one last dirty look.
“So…” Ms. Bennett began her interrogation. “Ms. Abraham said she saw you throwing snowballs, what do you have to say for yourself?”
“With all due respect, I think Ms. Abraham is very much mistaken. I saw the whole thing and there is no way she saw who threw the snowball. All I can tell you is that I’m innocent.”
“Is that so?”
“Yes, Ms. Abraham was more than a hundred yards away and looking in the opposite direction, how then could she have made out my face in the crowd?”
“She must have seen something since she picked you out of the crowd. How do you explain that?”
“I don’t know, perhaps she saw someone who matched my general description throwing snowballs, or maybe she saw me with my hands in my pockets and erroneously deduced they were cold from throwing snowballs, I can only speculate. Regardless, I contest these horrendous allegations.”
“So it’s a case of mistaken identity, is it?”
“Precisely.”
Ms. Bennett looked at me for a moment, almost as if she had the ability to tell if someone was lying.
“Trevor, I have to say, I’m very impressed by how you defended yourself just now. You were calm, collected, and articulate with your words,” she said with a slight smile. “You are obviously a very bright young man, but you wouldn’t know that based on your grades. You are a few months away from your projected graduation date and you are failing, or nearly failing, most of your courses, with the exception of a few classes,” she said, as she continued to study my file.
“I see you are currently getting an ‘A’ in Philosophy, which tells me you are a very patient and careful thinker. The comments from your teacher support that. Your teacher writes, ‘Trevor attends every class and participates actively.’ So it’s not that you’re not capable of good grades, perhaps you just lack the motivation.”
Ms. Bennett paused and there was a brief moment of silence. I just stared back at her, waiting for her conclusion.
“As I’m going over your record, it looks like you’re missing a lot of classes and you’ve been suspended twice this year, once for breaking into the games room, and once for fighting. I could suspend you a third time for this incident today, but I don’t think that would be in your best interest. To tell you the truth Mr. Morrison, I’m not really sure what to do with you at this point.”
Again, I didn’t say anything. I just bowed my head in shame.
“Mr. Morrison, assuming you can graduate on time, what are your plans after June?”
“I’m not really too sure, probably just find a job somewhere, try to save up some money.”
“Trevor, I’m going to be blunt with you. I see a lot of potential in you, but it seems like you’re just throwing it away. I hope you realize the choices you make and the people you surround yourself with will determine how your life will turn out. Now, you have to ask yourself, are the choices you’re making and the people you’re hanging around with leading you down the path of success…or failure?”
As I was thinking about what she had asked me, the bell rang, signaling the end of the lunch break.
“I’ll let you think about that. You’re dismissed.”
I left her office and sauntered down the hall towards my locker to grab my math books. I didn’t mind math, it was one of the few courses I was actually doing well. I enjoyed the instant gratification of solving complex equations. Plus, I liked the teacher. He always wore these really nice three-piece suits and drove a brand new Mercedes. He seemed to be much more successful than a typical high school math teacher, and for that reason, I tended to listen to what he had to say.
About twenty minutes into class, the phone in our room rang and our dapper teacher answered.
“Yes, he’s here,” Mr. Stirling said softly into the receiver as he swiveled around looking in my direction. “Okay, I’ll send him down right away.”
“Trevor, Ms. Bennett would like a word with you,” he said. The whole class chuckled as if they were in the third grade. I packed up my Superman comic with the rest of my things. Something told me I wouldn’t be coming back.
I walked down to Ms. Bennett’s office – the long way. I arrived a few minutes later and poked my head into her door. “You wanted to see me again?” I said.
“Mr. Morrison, please come in and have a seat,” she said, as she gestured for me to sit. “The reason I called you back to my office is to apologize to you. A witness has come forward to advocate for your innocence.”
“I appreciate that, but I was trying to tell you that I didn’t do it.”
“Yes, but given the situation, this person’s testimony is more credible than yours. Do you know what that means?”
“Yes.”
“What does it mean?”
“It means the person does not have anything to gain from the situation, but since I do, their word can be trusted more than mine,” I answered. It was obvious she was testing me, but it was not clear why she was doing it.
“Good,” she smiled proudly. “Trevor, I’m glad to hear you were not the one throwing snowballs today; however, I would be perfectly within my right to suspend you over the coarse language you used with Ms. Abraham.”
“But I didn’t even swear, I just said that this was ‘bull…’.”
“Yes, but the swear was implied. Mr. Morrison, that kind of conduct is unacceptable and I could suspend you on that alone. But I won’t do that, provided that you meet one condition.”
“Which is?” I asked.
You cannot miss a single class from now until graduation. In addition to that, for your two free blocks, you will come to my office and do your homework.”
“Come here?” I asked in disbelief.
“Yes, I expect you here every day. You will sit in that corner and do your work.”
I sat there in silence pondering this strange proposal. When I realized this was not open for discussion, I left.
On my way out I saw my friend Darrell sitting outside the principal’s office. Darrell and his sister were raised by their single mother and were not afforded many of the same opportunities most kids had growing up. Without a proper male role model and supervision, Darrell got into all types of trouble. His activities included smoking a lot of pot, selling pot, writing graffiti, and…well, that was about it. He was probably one of the least ambitious people I had ever met, but for s
ome reason, we were friends.
“Hey, Darrell, what did you do?” I asked.
“I didn’t do nothin’. How bout you?” he replied.
“I didn’t do anything either.”
C H A P T E R
T W O
The sound of my dad mowing the lawn at 7:00 a.m. was enough to wake me up. The fact he was up so early doing yard work meant there was a good chance he would come inside and put me and my brother to work as well. I peered out my window to see how much longer he would be. He was about halfway done, so by my estimation that gave me about thirty minutes before he came inside and started barking orders at me. Somewhere along the way in his life, he had not reached his goals. So ever since I could remember, he had been pushing me to make something of myself. That was fine, except that nothing I ever did was good enough for him. Since the bar was set so high, after a while, I had just stopped trying. A saying that summed up my life perfectly was, ‘Don’t reach for what you can’t grab’.
As hard as I tried to think about it, it wasn’t obvious which direction my life would go. It wasn’t as if I was standing at a fork in the road with several paths laid out in front of me; I was standing at the edge of a jungle. I knew I had to enter it, eventually, and there was no better time than the present.
Still in bed, I leaned over and grabbed my phone. I spoke with a friend of mine who had recently moved out of his parents’ place. He had forged ahead into the so-called jungle and was encouraging me to join him. During our short conversation, I made the decision to follow in his footsteps and walk the path he had already carved out. It was a hasty decision, but not a completely irrational one. It had been about a week since graduation and I still had nothing going on. My dad kept bugging me to get a job and move out, so that was what I decided to do.
I got out of bed and went into my closet. I grabbed a small backpack and began filling it with everything I thought I needed to survive in the real world. I packed a week’s supply of socks and underwear, my favourite t-shirts, a pair of pants, a small knife, some Band-Aids, a toothbrush, and some food.
After my bag was packed, I secured the zippers with a small lock. I stood up, tossed my bag over my shoulder, and took one last look around my room. I wondered if I would ever see it again.
I made my way downstairs and saw my dad eating breakfast. I poured some cereal into a bowl and sat down at the kitchen table across from him.
“Going somewhere?” he asked, taking notice of my backpack.
“Uh, yeah, I’m going to stay with Will for a little while,” I responded. That was somewhat true; I just didn’t know how long ‘a little while’ was going to be.
“Do you need any money?”
“No,” I responded coldly. I rejected the money to prove a point. I wanted to show him I did not need his help. Or maybe I was just too proud to admit that I did, especially since he had such little faith in me. I had less than a hundred dollars to my name, the last bit of money that I had left from selling bootleg mix tapes around school, but I was determined to make it work.
My brother, Brian, was really smart; he was already halfway through a university degree and was an all around good son. I, on the other hand, had poor grades and no direction. With all the trouble I had at school and home, I felt like my dad had pretty much given up on me. However, when it was time for me to leave, I was surprised at how little he fought with me to stay. I guess he didn’t disagree with my decision. Or maybe he thought Will still lived down the street. Either way, I was happy for the freedom.
My dad finished his breakfast and started to clean his dishes. Not another word was spoken between us. I didn’t even bother to say ‘goodbye’.
Before I left, I knocked on my brother’s door. Seeing as it was early in the morning and I had a large backpack slung over my shoulder, he made the logical deduction as well. “Where you going?” he asked.
“I’m moving to Banff.”
“Banff? Why Banff?”
“I just need to get out of K-town.”
“Alright, man. Call me if you need anything.”
“I will, thanks.”
After saying goodbye, I left the house and set out on foot like a man on a quest. It was a beautiful day, perfect for traveling. It was early in the morning, so the sun wasn’t that hot yet, but I still managed to work up a sweat. After walking for over an hour and a half, I finally reached the bus station.
I walked inside and went straight to the bathroom. I cranked the knob on the faucet and waited for the water to get cold. I cupped my hand under the running water and then brought it up to my mouth to slurp up the cold liquid. I could feel it go all the way down. I splashed some water on my face then turned off the faucet.
“You ready to do this?” I mumbled to myself, staring back at my reflection in the mirror. I stood there a moment then wiped my face and left.
I exited the bathroom and stood in line. When it was my turn, I counted out over fifty dollars to purchase a one-way ticket, and then waited for the boarding announcement. I couldn’t believe I was actually leaving this place. Next stop – Banff, Alberta.
C H A P T E R
T H R E E
The bus pulled out of the station and drove toward the highway. I sat in the uncomfortable seat staring out the window, watching the town that I grew up in pass by. It was almost like a seminar on my life. We drove by the grocery store where I had been caught shoplifting when I was eight. Down the road from that was my old high school and the park where I encountered my first fight. We drove passed the video store where I rented movies, my old dojo where I trained martial arts, and the set of ten stairs that I kick-flipped last summer. When the bus finally merged onto the highway, I put my headphones on and shut my eyes.
A few hours into the trip, I woke up with a slight cramp in my lower back. I took out a sweatshirt from my bag and wedged it between my back and the seat. I made a few adjustments then looked out the window. We were driving through the Rocky Mountains. The massive jagged mountains made me feel small. It wasn’t exactly a jungle, but I was entering the real world. Now that I was wide-awake, I had a lot of time to think. The first thought that occurred to me was, this is the first day of the rest of my life. I had no idea how my life would unfold, but I was eager to find out. The combination of excitement and nervousness sent my mind into a tailspin as I analyzed all the potential opportunities and dangers that lay before me.
After driving for six hours, the bus finally arrived in Banff a little after dinnertime. The bus maneuvered into the station and I continued to stare out the window, taking in as much of my new surroundings as possible. My eyes cascaded from the snowy mountain peaks down to two familiar faces that were outside waiting for me. I couldn’t help but smile as I waved at them.
I stepped off the bus to see Will and his girlfriend Bailey standing there with matching smiles. It was if they hadn’t seen me in years. In actuality, it had only been a couple of weeks.
My first impression of Banff was good; in fact, it was absolutely breathtaking. The entire town was nestled in between a bunch of snow-peaked mountains in the middle of nowhere. I immediately noticed the air was a lot cleaner, but it was also colder than I expected. Even though it was the start of summer I had to put on a jacket as we walked to Will and Bailey’s place.
“Well, this is it,” Will said, as we approached a small brown one-level house. Will led us around the side of the house to their entrance.
As we entered the house, I looked up at the top of the staircase and saw an old lady sneering at us.
“Who was that?” I asked when we arrived downstairs.
“That’s the owner of the house,” Bailey replied.
“She didn’t look too pleased to see us.”
“She’s usually okay, but she’s a crotchy old bag,” Will said. “She made it very clear when we moved in that there was not to be any visitors staying with us.”
“I’m glad to see you’re still defying authority, Will,” I joked.
I set my bag down and Will took me on a tour of their basement suite. It had a log cabin feel to it, complete with a large sofa and a wood burning fireplace. So far, so good, I thought.
Will and Bailey had a way of making me feel warm and welcome, but this was not a summer vacation. I needed to start looking for work immediately. I estimated my money would run out by the end of the week. I had also packed enough macaroni and cheese to last me a week. So that was my time frame – one week to get my life on track.
The next morning I woke up and sat down at the computer. Will and Bailey had left for work so I used the quiet time to create my résumé. I didn’t have any actual work experience to put on it so I used my imagination. I started out by putting Seasonal Labourer as my primary occupation. This covered all of my lawn mowing and snow shoveling experience. I also put on there that I did some landscaping and gutter installation. It was a small fabrication, but I didn’t think an employer would care if I could install gutters; I just needed to pad my list and convey I was a hard worker.
My second ‘occupation’ was a Mechanical Assistant. This was another fabrication, I think I handed my dad a wrench one time when he was working on his car. As a general rule, I don’t like to lie, but I was in survival mode, so all bets were off.
Nearly all the places I applied to wanted references or some sort of real work experience. I was starting to realize how difficult it was for someone fresh out of high school to get a job. Nobody wanted to take a gamble on a young kid like me, but I was not going to let this hurdle deter me and get me down. I was on my own and needed to become a man. That involved getting a job and taking care of myself. Being rejected was not an option.
I walked into the main snowboard shop in town and asked to speak with the manager.
“I’m the manager, how can I help you?”
I extended my left hand and he reciprocated. The manager looked at me a bit strangely, but then dismissed the left-handed handshake.
I proceeded to introduce myself, explained the reason for my visit, and then handed him my résumé. When he looked at it, he had the same look on his face that everyone else had. I knew I had to take action to impress him, so I began to speak. “Sir, I understand I don’t have a lot of work experience, but my passion and hard work is second to none. Let me show you what I can do for you,” I said confidently.
He looked at me for a moment, then asked. “Do you snowboard?”
“Yes, sir, I've been riding for ten years,” I said enthusiastically.
“Do you know about bikes?”
“Yes, sir,” I replied. It was another small lie; I didn’t know anything about bikes. I figured since it was the middle of the summer, bike season would only last a few more months anyway. I didn’t think it was all that important for me to know about bikes.
“I’m curious, why did you shake my left hand when you came in?” he asked.
“I did it out of respect, sir… you know, because you’re left-handed.”
“How did you know I was left-handed?”
“Well, when I came in you were crouching down, which allowed me to see the top of your head. I noticed your hair unconventionally swirled in a counterclockwise direction. This is a common genetic trait of left-handed people. Then, when you stood up I noticed you were wearing a chain wallet on the left side. Finally, I noticed you had ink on your middle and index finger on your left hand, an obvious sign you use that hand to write with.”
“Wow, that’s incredible. You’re very perceptive,” he said with a slight laugh, like someone who just witnessed a really good magic trick. “I like your style,” he looked at me for a moment, still with a smirk on his face. “I’ll tell you what, can you be here tomorrow at eight?”
“Yes, sir, I can,” I replied excitingly. “Thank you so much, you won’t regret it.” I shook his hand again and left right away before he changed his mind.
C H A P T E R
F O U R
Now that I had a job secured, I could relax a bit, but I still couldn’t afford to do anything. Even though the legal age in Alberta is eighteen, we were still too young to get into any of the bars or clubs, so at night, Will and I would go skateboarding.
“You know what’s weird to think about, man?” Will said to me as we were walking back home after a long night of skating.
“What’s that?” I replied.
“At this very moment, we’re forming memories. One day, maybe twenty years from now, we will remember this moment. It will be just a memory from our past, but it is our life now.”
“Unless, of course, we forget,” I retorted.
We crossed the street and a group of loud and obnoxious partygoers captured our attention. There were four of them, they had obviously been drinking, and were acting a little rowdy. Something told me this would be an evening we would not soon forget. “Hey, bro, let me try your skateboard!” one of them said as he stumbled toward me.
My street smarts told me to ignore him in hopes of diffusing the situation before it escalated. So that’s what I did. I placed my skateboard on the street and started skating away from them. Will did the same.
“Hey, I’m talking to you!” he shouted aggressively at me.
My heart began to pound as I realized I might have made an error in judgment.
My fight or flight mechanism kicked in and I chose wisely to flee. I began pushing my skateboard faster and faster down the dimly lit street. This incited the primal instinct in the predator as he began to hunt me down. The chase was on. I wish I could have zigzagged like a gazelle, but my best course of action was to continue in a straight line and hope he tired before I did.
The drunk lunatic was still in pursuit, grunting and screaming behind me. Will was following me at a modest speed while the other three drunken guys were walking casually, watching the entertainment unfold. So far, they were not posing any threat. I looked back to see how far away the crazy man was. That was when my wheel hit a small rock and I lost my balance. I was thrown from my board and my legs immediately hit the ground running to maintain my speed so I didn’t face plant on the pavement.
I was about fifteen feet away from my board by the time I was able to reduce my speed. I cautiously observed from a distance and waited to see what the drunkard would do next. He eventually caught up to where my skateboard was, and was breathing heavily. It became clear he was no longer interested in riding it, and fortunately, he was no longer interested in me either. He picked up my board and began to walk back to his posse.
I determined my safety was no longer in jeopardy so I toughened up. I ran back to the much larger man who looked like he outweighed me by more than a hundred pounds. In a futile attempt at winning a tug of war battle with him, I grabbed the skateboard and tried to reclaim what was rightfully mine. The huge gorilla swung me around and jerked the board free from my grip with ease. He snarled and lunged toward me. Grabbing me by my shirt, he pinned me up against a parked car.
Will arrived on the scene and was yelling at him to let me go, but it was no use. He looked back at the other drunken guys and quickly calculated the distance between them and us. They were still casually walking toward us, but were about fifty yards down the street. In an instant, Will picked up his board from the ground, raised it high in the air, and swiftly whipped it down on the back of the drunkard’s head. The sound of the low-pitched thud was disturbing.
The drunkard immediately let go of me and dropped to the ground in a haze of confusion; he had no clue what had just hit him. Blood poured from the back of his head and soaked his blonde hair.
“Go, dude, go!” Will screamed out.
He did not have to tell me twice, I quickly grabbed my skateboard and took off. We raced back to Will’s house. I arrived first. Will showed up a moment later and did not show any fear. He seemed more exhilarated than scared.
> “Dude, are you okay?” he asked, as he gasped for breath.
“Yeah,” I responded quickly.
Will started laughing and instructed me to go around to the front of the house. “Come on let’s go over here, we’re making too much noise.”
I would have been much happier to be safely inside because we were only about four blocks away from where the incident took place. It was doubtful they would ever find us, but I still remained cautious, looking over my shoulder every ten seconds.
We took a seat on the curb in front of Will’s place. I gazed up at the stars as Will reached into his pocket and took out a pack of cigarettes.
“Dude, that was awesome!” Will said. “I kicked him too, did you see that?”
“You kicked him?”
“Yeah, buddy was down on all fours and I kicked him in the head as hard as I could.” Will mumbled proudly with an unlit cigarette dangling from his mouth. He patted his jean pockets then his shirt pockets. He eventually found what he was looking for. He took out his lighter, lit up his cigarette, and took a huge drag. “Forget those guys!” he said, as he exhaled a huge cloud of smoke.
We waited until Will finished his cigarette before we went inside. Bailey had already gone to bed by the time we got home and would not get to hear our story. I doubted if she would ever hear it; there didn’t seem to be much point in telling her.
It was a little past midnight and we were both hungry. We each filled up a big glass of juice and grabbed some chips before heading into the living room. Will threw another log in the fireplace as we prepared to stay up for the next while and watch some TV.
“Hey, have you ever done shrooms?” Will asked, not even trying to conceal his excitement. I looked over at him, but didn’t say anything. I didn’t have to; it was obvious I had not. Will had the same expression on his face that a kid gets when they have just come up with a really brilliant idea that will most likely get them hurt or into trouble. Before I could even reply, Will jumped out of his chair and went to his little stash spot he had in one of his movie cases. I stayed put, but I stretched out comfortably on the large sofa.
“Dude, where’d you get those?” I asked the first question that came to my mind, exposing my lack of experience in these types of situations.
“I got them from Rasta Mark – a buddy from work,” he said, dismissing the seemingly irrelevant question. “Okay, here’s what you do,” Will said, as he was intently focused and clearly enjoying himself. “Take this,” he handed me a small dried up flattened mushroom.
“What do you want me to do with this?” I asked.
“Cut it up into small pieces, then eat it.”
I was not much into doing drugs, and I didn’t even eat normal mushrooms, but I was willing to let go of some of my inhibitions. I looked down at the pile of dried up mushroom bits in my hand and thought to myself, a man’s gotta do what a man’s gotta do. I quickly swallowed them and chased them down with a big gulp of juice. Will did the same.
“Okay, now what?” I asked naively.
“Now we wait.”
I didn’t really feel much at first. We both just sat there staring at the fire. Neither one of us said anything for a while.
“I don’t think mine are working,” I said, finally breaking the silence.
“Shhhh, just wait,” Will said softly.
The room went back to being quiet. The only noise was from the crackling fire in the fireplace. As I stared at the flames I became increasingly more fascinated with them. The drug amplified my natural inquisitiveness and I began to trip out. All the ordinary daily distractions were gone; the drug nullified anything that would even remotely interrupt my thought process. I was in the zone. At that moment, I was an uninhibited and purely inquisitive mind. The amount of focus I had was incredible. It was a philosopher’s drug.
“Dude, you know what’s weird?” I asked. “What is fire?” I paused for a moment to let the question marinate. Will did not say anything. “If you think about it,” I began again “fire can never be analyzed under a microscope. It never sits still, it’s always changing, so how do we really know what it is?”
I stayed intently focused on the flames. “You know what I think?” I asked rhetorically. “I think fire is the true reality. The normal everyday stuff we perceive is all an illusion, a veil that covers the true reality. When we strike a match or ignite a flame, that spark creates a force so hot it tears the artificial fabric, and reveals the real reality, the ‘flame-reality’. Wherever there is fire, for that moment, at that time, the veil is lifted. Each dance of a flame forces out the fake reality in the same precise spot as the flame so it looks seamless, and when the flame goes out, the veil is restored, once again concealing the truth. I can see it now, it all makes sense.”
I looked over at Will as if I had just unraveled the biggest mystery of the universe and I wanted to make sure he witnessed it. Will was completely passed out.
I finished my juice, peeled myself off the couch, and went to bed.
C H A P T E R
F I V E
It had been over a month since I moved in with Will and Bailey. The landlady made it very clear that I was not supposed to be staying there so I had to be a ghost for the next little while until I could get my own place.
My job was going well, but leaving for work was always a challenge. The only door to go outside was located in between two sets of stairs, one leading downstairs to Will and Bailey’s place and one leading upstairs to the grumpy landlady’s place. At the top of her set of stairs was a door, which was always left open. She sat there at her command post and kept guard. It was nearly impossible to leave at any time during the day and avoid detection. If she was not sitting in her old kitchen chair at the top of the stairs, she kept watch out her front window.
In order to slip under her radar, there were a series of steps that I needed to take. First I had to leave through the window in my room. Then I had to crouch low next to the house and walk underneath the large window in the front of the house. After that, I would continue around the back of the house and dart behind a stack of firewood piled near the edge of the small property. If I could pull all that off successfully, I had to run quickly to the street and then I was home free. The same tactics were needed to regain entry, although it was a little easier since I usually came home at night. Needless to say, I had to get my own place.
As it turned out, the snowboard shop offered staff accommodation. I later learned this was unheard of anywhere else, but with so many transient workers, it was the norm in Banff. I applied for the last empty room in a house with four other guys and was approved to move in right away.
The place was still a basement suite, but it was not nearly as nice as the one Will and Bailey were renting. There was no couch, no TV, no computer, no fireplace, no nice rugs, and it certainly did not have that cozy log cabin feel to it. The owners of the snowboard shop also owned a ski shop down the street on Banff Ave. I was the only guy from the snowboard shop living there, the rest of my new roommates worked at the ski shop.
My roommates were a mixed bag of guys. McKay was a twenty-six year old happy-go-lucky type. Dave was twenty-two and was an all-around nice guy with very little real world experience. Rob was twenty-four and was the quintessential heavy-drinker party-animal type. Then there was Brendan, a twenty-eight year old avid outdoorsman.
A few weeks after I moved in with these guys, Will found out his mother was ill. Almost instantly, Will and Bailey packed up all their things, and left.
Without the support of Will and Bailey, I was completely on my own. Like riding a bike for the first time without the training wheels, I was apprehensive at first because I wasn’t sure if I could continue to ride smoothly. Even though I was making it on my own, I never removed the thought that I could always move back in with my parents if things didn’t work out. I counted the days, weeks, and then months from the time I moved away from home. Each month that passed represented one more month that I was ‘
making it’ on my own. I was determined to show my parents I was independent and did not need their help. Most importantly, I needed to prove to myself I had what it took to survive in the real world, even if it was just in a small town.
C H A P T E R
S I X
When I turned eighteen, I started going to the bars with my roommates nearly every night. I was so used to approaching people and trying to sell them things at my job that meeting girls came naturally to me. I would walk up to a group of girls by myself and within minutes, I would have them completely engaged. The next step was to introduce them to my friends and hope everyone could find one they liked. If everything flowed smoothly, we would all leave together and party back at our place. This sequence happened routinely, which immediately increased my popularity with my roommates – my only friends. At this point in my life, hooking up with girls was everything to me. It was my only focus.
One morning, after a late night of partying, I strolled into work hung-over. I submerged myself in a stack of clothes and folded them for the first few hours to avoid contact with any other life forms.
“Excuse me,” a sweet and innocent looking girl approached me. By my estimation, she was about seventeen. “Do you have any more of these in the back?” she asked. As girls remained my only known weakness, I happily obliged.
“I can check for you, what size are you looking for?”
“A small please,” she said with a flirtatious smile.
A few moments later, I appeared from the back. “You’re in luck, last one left,” I said, as I proudly presented the size small shirt to her.
As she continued to browse, I continued to check her out. I couldn’t help it, she was so beautiful. She was about five foot five with light brown hair. It was slightly wavy and a little past shoulder length.
“So are you from out of town?” I asked.
“Yeah. I’m here on vacation with my family.”
“Cool. How do you like it here so far?”
“It’s really nice, but I’m always with my parents. I haven’t had the chance to see everything I wanted to see.”
“That’s too bad,” I said. Before I even had a chance to think, I instinctually blurted out, “Why don’t you come out with me tonight?” My heart started pounding as soon as the words left my lips. I could feel the blood rush to my face, but I just ignored it. I pretended she couldn’t see me blushing. There it was, I laid it all out on the line. “I can take you to all the places you didn’t get to see,” I continued to sell her on the idea.
“Sure,” she said casually.
“Okay, great,” I said. “I’m off at five o’clock. Can you come back here…preferably without your parents?”
She laughed. “Don’t worry, I won’t bring them.”
“I’m Trevor, by the way,” I extended my hand.
“Hi, nice to meet you, I’m Ashley.”
The Art of the Hustle Page 3
