so sad i forgot to cry

Besides that kid I kneed in the balls, I made some other friends in Jamaica. After a couple of days there without talking to hardly anyone, I met a couple from Oakville or Mississauga and went up to their room to smoke a joint. Their names were Mike and Lisa. Mike was in hazardous materials (hazmat), and Lisa in logistics (logistics). We got all high and then they kicked my ass in the ping pong. Later that evening I had a drink with them.

The next day they were off on some day trip, and I went back to my usual routine of playing beach volleyball, eating and reading by myself, and feeling awkward whenever the girl I had a crush on walked by. That night I saw them at one of the bars in the resort and sat with them. It was Mike's birthday, and in celebration he pulled out a big fatty which he shared with the three of us at our table and four forty-something french canadians at the next table. The third time it came to me I made the "I'm done" hand gesture, but Mike c'moned me into another pull. The fourth time I made the gesture again and resisted further c'moning.

So now I was high -- much higher than I wanted to be, and also dehydrated and somewhat sun-stricken. Whatever the conversation at the table had been was now carrying ON without me. We were sitting on barstools at one of those high tables, and I realized I had a pressing need to get lower. About ten feet away were some normal tables and chairs, and I knew with all my soul that that was where I wanted to be. I interupted the conversation, said, "sorry guys, but I think I need to sit somewhere lower," and got off my stool.

This is where the the story diverges depending on who's telling it. From my point of view, the next thing I remember is being on a bus in Toronto. I can't remember where the bus was going, but I do remember that I was quite confident that I was on the right bus. I was standing and holding on to a pole for support. Everything was fine, there was nothing to doubt. Then, quite unexpectedly, the curtains of the sky were pulled apart and behind them was god's face, which looked me in the eye and said, "buddy... you're going to be okay."

Okay is not how this made me feel. Okay was how I felt when I was riding the bus to wherever I was going and everything was fine. Having god rip the sky open and call me buddy seemed not only terrifying, but also somehow unlikely. I ignored him and strengthened my grip on the pole, thinking this cannot be happening.

"Buddy... you're going to be okay," god repeated.

I was scared shitless, and thought to myself this is the exact moment in time when I have become officially insane. My life as it used to be is now over, and all the people who used to know me will ask what the fuck happened to that guy and the answer will be this. This thing that can't possibly be happening but is quite undeniably happening. The thought then occured to me that maybe the buddy part was real, but it was the bus and the pole in my hand and the road and the sky and everything else that I was convinced was normal was what actually wasn't real. And as it all started to come raging back to me I thought "Where am I?" and turned my head and realized I was in Jamaica, face down under the table I'd been sitting at, I'd fainted, and now that guy that I barely knew was telling me everything was going to be okay. My next thought was "please don't let this be a big deal", and I looked behind me and saw a fifty year old dude in shorts and a fanny back looking all concerned and helpless, and behind him a bartender rushing over saying "is he okay, mon?" and realized that this was not going to be a low profile event.

So someone got me a lower chair and helped me sit in it, and one of the french canadian ladies went and got some ice and wrapped it in a towel and started rubbing my head, neck, back and chest. The hotel nurse came with a wheelchair(!), and started asking me a bunch of questions. Mike and Lisa were like "he's okay we'll take care of him" and the french-canadian lady was like "he's okay, I'm used to this", and Mike looked me and said "everything's fine buddy, stick with us", and the nurse asked me some more questions and then the french canadian lady started whispering in my ear "I really like you... you're a beautiful man and I can tell that you're kinky" and while this was going on I looked back Mike he gave me the thumbs up and said "dude, I kinda wish I was you right now" and I looked over at the nurse and she was saying something like "Have you had much to drink? Are you always this pale?" and then I said to the french canadian chick "Pardon?" not because I couldn't hear her, or even because I couldn't believe what I was hearing, more just because having her rub me and say that shit in my ear felt really good, especially when I was so fucking high.

Eventually the nurse left and the french lady left and Mike and Lisa insisted on wheeling me to my room which was just one last shame for me to endure which I eventually I couldn't and I got out and walked but they brought the wheelchair to my room just in case. The wheelchair remained in my room for the rest of the trip. And by the next day I had parlayed this whole event into a way to flirt with the girl I had a crush on and the next night slyly invited her to my room for a wheelchair ride and totally ditched Mike and Lisa for the rest of the trip and hung out with this girl and her friend instead.

So basically this experience which was sort of one of the worst things that has ever happened to me was pretty much the highlight and the turning point of my trip.