Things are not what they seem.

This picture was taken by me - it is the outside of the opera house in Paris France. Paris seems to be on my mind a great deal lately. I wish I was there right now. Maybe it is because a year ago I was.


So last night I am riding on the subway home from my novel writing class at the University of Toronto. I am reading a book called Ladykiller (a book of short stories written by this woman that lives in BC - her name is Charlotte Gill - she is a Governors General Nominee - if that means anything to you (the book is good) Sorry I digress... I look up from my book and see a tall teenaged boy standing stately at the subway door stiffly balancing with the movement of the train. I look into his eyes and I realize that he is completely tuned on some sort of narcotic. I smile inside myself and think "Wow that kid is seriously fucked up - he must be having a good time." Observation made I go back to my Charlotte Gill (some story about a guy and a girl getting into a car accident with a load of BC weed in the back of their truck).

Then a few minutes later I hear a loud clunk and look up to discover the teenager has fallen flat on his face and is laying there unconscious with his arms at his sides and face straight down into the floor of the train.

I blink a few times to make sure I am not hallucinating and see for sure that all of this is real. I don't get up but I look at the teenagers mouth to see if he is foaming or frothing. He is not moving - he is frozen stiff like a lambshank. I stare fascinated and another passenger gets up and starts to pull on him. I think it is a bad idea but the kid wakes up and slowly gets to his feet like nothing happened. He says he is really tired and I get up and insist that he sits down instead of standing. People move out of his way and we all look at him. I can't seem to get back into reading my Charlotte Gill because things are just too interesting around me. Nothing else happens and until my stop the kid hangs his head and looks at the floor. I don't know if he is embarrassed or sick. I wonder what he is thinking. I decide he is most likely still way too stoned. On my way out I speak to him. I have been trying to decide what short sentence I could say that would help him the most.

I get up and lean over to him:
"When you get off of this train get yourself a bottle of water or some juice ok?"
The kid looks up at me and I know he thinks it is a good idea. An idea that he needed to maybe keep him moving. He smiles and says "Yeah, ok, thanks - thanks a lot."

I leave the train and return to my normal life again.

I wonder if the kid made it home or if he died on the train.