The Flatscreen

Gratuitous baby photo. Where were we? Oh yes... preparing for Randy's bachelor party. At first I bailed, but I sometimes engage in the kind of behaviour that I myself despise - being wishywashy. There was some back and forth between Randy and me, and some back and forth between Ali and me but eventually I committed to being chauffeur for the night. The other guys were coming from Long Island, and none of them brought a vehicle. Not exactly true, but the one guy who did bring a car also brought his wife and she they decided that she would keep the car at the hen party while the guys used my car for the other party.

The day started off with a trip to the airport. Ali assumed that since the flight number was the same as the one for her arrival back in October, the landing time for this flight would also be the same. It doesn't help to ask - sometimes you have to check things out for yourself. So, the night before I checked. The plane wasn't landing at noon as assumed, it was landing oh, about 4 hours earlier. So much for a snooze on Saturday. We picked up Ali's parents and everything was good, good, good. They brought an extra suitcase which tipped the balance. I couldn't get it all in the car and my poor father in law had to sit cross-legged on the seat as the extra suitcase occupied the footwell. Stupidly (my idea), we stopped for bagels and coffee on the way home. Great, now extra stuff to carry. We couldn't go directly to the hotel because the check in time wasn't until 3:00 on the afternoon. Eventually, we got everything and everyone into the flat, and then all hell broke loose. It's normal for my wife's family - and every other Japanese family I've ever met. Everyone else was doing everything all at once. Opening gifts, watching DVDs, pouring drinks, hanging conversations. I had to get rid of them. I packed them all back into the car and went for a drive. There was some confusion and disappointment, but I wasn't going to worry about it. I dropped everyone at the hotel and off I went to Randy's.

Randy's brother couldn't make it. He stayed back in Concord to look after his mother-in-law who had fallen and twisted her ankle. Strangely, his wife was at the hen party, and not back at home looking after her ailing mother. Don't get me wrong, I was very pleased to finally meet her, and might I say Randy's brother has excellent taste. Too bad all (almost all) the hens were sloppy drunk by the time I actually met any of them.

First stop, the liquor store. Randy's buddies stocked up on Red Stripe and Jack Daniels and off we went to the first event. I had totally forgotten Randy's rules of thumb, and arrived still wearing my suit from all the airport goodness of collecting my inlaws. It was cold, damp and luckily a last minute change nixed the paintball idea. Instead, we attempted to play disc golf. It was my first bachelor party so I didn't really have a benchmark, and I did none of the planning so I couldn't complain. Frankly, I was just happy to get away from my inlaws. We got free parking - Kamsa ha nida - and we surprised a model doing a guerilla photo shoot. I appreciated it, not sure the other guys did. Randy was a little uncomfortable, drinking open liquor on the course and kind of wishing he hadn't decided to play disc golf. It would have been fine, except for the conditions and the fact that we encountered the world's least mellow foursome of disc golfers. Buzz kill.

We loaded back in the car and went to a Cuban French restaurant for dinner. Get it? Randy's getting married in Cuba Montréal and his bachelor party has a Cuban Frenchy theme. It ended up acquiring a distinctly Belgian flavour later on, but that's a different story. I ordered pasta, and someone ordered a pitcher of mojitos which I wasn't prepared for, and totally against the rules as far as I'm concerned. Shared drinks, for example a pitcher or a keg, behoove the designated driver to partake. If not, said person is deemed uppity, chippy, aloof and a general all round prick. How dare he or she not accept a wee drink when offered? Individual drinks, on the other hand are a no go. The designated driver is expected to have a reasonable amount of common sense and not order drinks for oneself when they are driving. So I was duped. I had one mojito as a gesture but was careful to load up on food and wait an overly extended period of time before moving on to the next chapter in the night. Also because I had to be sober in case Ali needed a ride home from the hotel.

And that was more drinking. Apparently the guys weren't primed enough for the next stage, and Randy had set aside a certain time for that so we ambled a few blocks down to a Belgian restaurant, which I touched on here, but only talked about the ending of that adventure and not the beginning. Anyway, it all started here, only one table away from where we sat at Randy's stag. One of the lads has a tapeworm or something, because before the end of the night he would eat four mains, and he had a very discerning palate. We all had a round, I was careful to only have one and stupidly I had one of the very same beers that Randy's best, best friend had stashed in the boot of my car. Only at the restaurant it was chilled and not free. With that round, the three of us noshed on some lovely Belgian chips and the one with the tapeworm had a plate of calamari. He complained about it, but I guess he deserved it for ordering food in a bar. Now we were ready, and the time had arrived for bowling. Don't laugh. We went bowling. Again, Randy was not happy because well, the bowling alley didn't live up to what was advertised. We didn't stay long, but I would like to mention that this is the first time I bowled in like 20 years, and the first time I bowled a whole game one-handed. Yup, I bowled two-handed when I was in the kiddies league but the proof is in the pudding. I am Most Improved Bowler - 1981 for my chapter. That's right. And that night at Randy's stag I did pretty good, but my back didn't. The next few weeks for me would be a wonderful, half-medicated journey.

So now Randy's pissed (off) because the bowling turned out to be not as much fun as he had hoped, so what could we do? That's right - back to the Belgian restaurant for more drinking. To be honest, I'd never seen Randy drink this much before but that was nothing compared to some of the things I did/saw later that night. We all went back to our original table and the lads ordered more drinks and chips and Mr. Tapeworm ordered two more mains. Our waitress had changed, and I will say that she alone would bring me back to this restaurant. We asked her to drink with us, but she said it was against company policy - a policy that had apparently changed since I was there last. She told us where she was from and I used my fantastic memory and my travels around the world to sort of wow her a little bit. It worked. Oh right, it was Randy's party, not mine. As the lads downed more and more, last call approached. We were sitting on the patio and it was a little chilly. The gas heaters weren't doing it for me any more, so when a parking spot opened up in front of the patio, I ran a few blocks to move the car closer. By the time I got back, the spot had been taken as I half expected, but there was still enough room to park in front of the other car. In fact, that space had been there all night. It just looks like you're not supposed to park there. As we were leaving, Randy asked the waitress if anyone with a particular name worked at the restaurant. Apparently Randy and the other guys were at a Starbucks somewhere earlier that day and the barista casually mentioned that he was friends with the manager. The waitress went and brought out the manager. I'm not sure what the objective was, but the guys were toasted and I guess they wanted to let some manager - there are several for this restaurant - know that some random barista wanted to say hello.

I took the lads home, and that's when things got scary. The hen party was a total loss. The ladies went to their pole-dancing class, but when they arrived at a club - they discovered that they weren't on the VIP list, wouldn't pay the cover and had all their "personal use" liquor confiscated. Somebody had lied to them. They made a stink and the manager brought back their liquor and they left. So we were surprised to see them when we got back to Randy's place. Ekaterina was so drunk, and I've never even seen her drink so it was a little unsettling. All but one of the other chicks were completely lit, and since Kat didn't get to do all her hen party stuff at the club, the three lads not getting married the next week were drafted in as substitutes. It's a moment I'm not proud of, and will never speak of again after I post it on my blog. What could happen? Like, one person reads this blog, so here it goes: We played Suck for a Buck. Kat had a bunch of life savers sewn to her shirt and she was really in my face so I couldn't get out of it. Randy wasn't looking so I deftly took one off her breast. Lime. Only the camera didn't get the shot. So we had a do-over. Only this time Randy was looking and I could tell he wasn't pleased so I took a safe one off her tummy. Pineapple. The camera shot didn't turn out so well anyway so it was worth nothing. I kept my dollar. The hen party stayed in the kitchen and salon while the guys crammed into the den to play Wii games. By the time we were done, my eyes were burning and Tapeworm dude had fallen asleep. It was time to go. So it wasn't a typical stag, but I had fun anyway.

Over the next week, we visited more with Ali's parents, and by the final night of their trip I could hardly walk. I developed a rash for some reason. At first I ignored it because I'd had this before, and it wasn't itchy or bumpy so I thought it would go away. I didn't even know it was a rash. I thought it was just an abrasion or something. Anyway, a few days went by and it didn't go away. I checked it on the weekend and it had spread all the way down my arms onto my hands. I figured it was time to see the doctor. Monday morning I went to the clinic and showed the doc what I was concerned about. He told me to take off my shirt. He showed me more areas that had the same rash. He told me to take off my pants. He showed me more. The thing is he told me where the rash would be before I took off my clothes. He took a throat culture, and sent me for a blood test. If there were any problems he would call me. He figured I had a weakened immune system due to stress and fatigue. It's like he knows everything about me, and we've never met! He told me to get some rest for the next little while. By the end of the week, the rash was gone, but I would soon develop a nagging cold that wouldn't go away completely. I've still got it now and it's been like three weeks. It is ebbing slowly though, and I think it will go away quickly now that exams are over. Randy and Kat were in Cuba Montréal for two weeks, and I was to look after the cat for the second week. I stressed a little about that because it took a severe chunk out of my study time.

While I was up to my elbows in ground horse meat, Randy and Kat were having a lovely time taking scooter tours and drinking state-subsidized rum. Oh yeah, they got married too. I picked them up at the airport and when we got back to their place they showed me their wedding photos. Randy was looking pretty good. The bootcamp really paid off for him. Kat looked resplendent in her wedding gown - not really hard for her. I was a bit jealous because they were able to get outdoor snaps. At my wedding there were no outdoor shots. They gave me a bottle of rum and took Ali, Foxy and me out for lunch. I wish I had been able to be at the wedding.

Later that day, when I should have been studying, we went to OP's for tea. We arrived and the first thing I noticed was Sissy's SUV. Hmmm, this would be interesting. I haven't spoken to my sister since Boxing Day because of a little nastiness the night before at Bob's place. Whatever, it's fine now. I accept the fact that my sister cannot say sorry. Anyway, we had a nice time at OP's except that we had already eaten and didn't have room for any tea cakes. The stress from not studying was starting to build up. I was lucky because my exam wouldn't be until the end of the week. I was resolved to studying a little bit each evening until Friday. That didn't happen. I was still fighting this nasty cold which was making a last ditch effort in the back of my throat. A steady regimen of tea with honey which (fuck me!) has antibiotic properties slowly put paid to that. I've been watching a lot of Gordon Ramsay lately... I must have been bagged by the cold because when I got home after work for the first few days I'd be too tired to study. I pulled out the bung after a few days and powered through five units in one evening. I managed the other five on the day of the exam. My professor always advised that we not study on the day of the exam. I realized that maybe, just maybe if I stopped listening to him - I might actually pass the exam this time round. I had it all planned - an evening exam which meant no dinner and a weekend coming up. I grabbed one of the McDonald's coupons we received in the mail, and went looking for the 2-for-1 coupon I got when I went to see In Bruges. I couldn't find it. If I could have, this would have been a post about movies. As usual, the coupon was not where it should have been. Ali moved it. By this time the exam was less than an hour away. The McD's coupon wasn't valid for another week so I raced across town on an empty stomach.

I got to the exam with less than ten minutes to spare. The only seats left were front row centre. DAMN! Double DAMN! At least I still had the Australian Grand Prix to look forward to. No cell phones were allowed in the exam for obvious reasons, but it was my only timekeeper. It's probably a good thing I didn't use it because I probably would have panicked. That's my problem with exams. I skimmed the exam questions. I couldn't believe what I was seeing. The questions could not have been simpler. I smiled. I went back to the beginning and began the exam. As I read more closely, I noticed that the questions were twisted a bit so that the easy answer was not the one the examiners were looking for. No problem, I just had to use my brain a bit. I got to the end of the exam and noticed there was one more page. WTF?! These exams NEVER have more than 7 questions, and this one had nine. I noticed that a few of the questions were throwaways that the examiners had put in to give a few easy marks - but now my hands were hurting from all the BLOCK LETTER writing and some students had already finished. I'm pretty sure the first guy gave up and walked out. I had also skipped over three questions - not two as originally thought - to mull over things a bit. The terminology for this course has always been a bit of a problem for me, but I made an executive decision and answered two of the questions the way I thought they should be answered. It turns out that I was on the right track. I hope the markers agree. The final question was easy, as soon as I came up with a way to explain it so that the marker would understand what I meant. Now watch. I'll wait six weeks for my marks - the scientifically calculated period of time necessary for students to forget their exam performance - and I will discover that I failed. The first time I wrote this exam I thought it was a walk in the park. I was wrong. I totally missed the thrust of the exam. I didn't get the same feeling this time, but I'm pretty sure I'll pass.

If not, I'm packing it in and moving to Japan to be a bicycle courier. Ali's already itching to go back. Constant harping from her parents seems to help. While they were here, amid the confusion of the first day, Ali's father mumbled something about the adequacy of, or lack thereof, my television. Ahem. That cathode ray tube was state-of-the-art-bought-directly-from-the-Sony-store when I got it fifteen years ago. It wasn't the biggest television available, but I try not to be too ostentatious about the things I own, clothes excepted. I'm a peacock. Anyway, thanks Dad-san for the 7.1 megapixel Canon camera as a gift just for showing up but I'll keep the Sony CRT and not think twice about it. By the way, if digital cameras are the kind of gift you give just for visiting, come by anytime. And thanks again for the bottle of Johnny Walker Green Label, the same thing I gave you when I visited Tokyo but I happened to notice that the bottle you gave me seems a little smaller. I'm just saying.

The weekend after they left, there was loud knock at the door on Saturday morning. It was Genya, and he had a little something for us. I opened the door, and he didn't even wait for me to ask him in. He barged past me with a smile from ear to ear, stopping only to kick off his loafers. He was carrying a flatscreen and was looking for a place to put it down. At this point. Ali and Foxy came out the bedroom, and squealing ensured shortly after. I was still half asleep but managed to muster, "Don't tell me, it fell of a truck".

"Eh? How could you guess?", Genya said half-jokingly but only half.

"What brings you by this Saturday morning at half eight? Would you like some coffee? I could sure use some".

"Furato sukureen. From the boss. Coffee sounds good. Do you have any okashi?", as he reached for a box cutter in his back pocket.

"Really? Are you sure I can't whip up some pancakes or some bacon and eggs or something for you?"

"No no, thank you very much. I'm not so hungry", Gen answered totally missing the sarcasm of my question.

Twenty minutes later, the television was connected and Ali was already watching some Music Station DVDs - part of more than forty hours of programming her parents recorded at Christmas and brought over. I was standing, scratching my head looking at the packing mess trying to keep the baby away from it and asking myself what just happened. I couldn't figure it out so I asked Ali. I had to ask her a couple of times because her attention was clearly devoted to the flatscreen.

Eventually, she blurted out, "You told my dad you wanted a flatscreen, so he got one for us".

"Umm, no I didn't. I so totally didn't. He said I should get one. I said that I liked my Sony television just fine. This is like The Noodle Conversation your dad and I had in Tokyo". The Noodle Conversation was a landmark in my relationship with my father-in-law, and it demonstrated clearly to me that even though someone can talk English, they might still not speak it - completely misunderstanding their interlocuteur.

"It's a Sony flatscreen. You should enjoy". Yes, exactly.

"My point is that I never asked for this. We don't need this. If I wanted a flat screen, I would have bought one myself", but she stopped listening long before. Defeated once again, I took my old CRT and moved it into the bedroom temporarily.

It took some prodding, but I watched the Australian Grand Prix on the flatscreen, and I am now totally unopposed to the new telly. It was fun. Kimi sucks as usual and Lewis rocks. Too bad for Sebastian B.