A whole bunch of years ago, before I moved to Toronto, I came here a couple times, mostly visiting pseudo family at Christmas or around those holidays we, as a people, deem travel worthy. During those trips, I met a bunch of people I would have never had to opportunity to. Some good, some bad, these meetings formed some of my earliest connections in this city.
You have probably all experienced them. Relationships by proxy. You don't so much become friends, but you are brought in to the fold because you appear to be someone held in regard by someone that is held, in turn, in regard by someone else. You are basically there because your hosts care about who you are sleeping with, not about you. Don't get me wrong, many strong friendships can come from such introductions, but just as many fizzle and disappear, following the relationship into oblivion.
Back to the memory at hand, I was in Toronto, maybe the second time in my adult life. Being driven all over by someone that 'kinda' knows the city, on our way to a small house party held by her 'best friend from high school' and her boyfriend. After parking on Eglington (to this day I still think it was Bloor and she just didn't know any better) and taking an elevator to god knows what floor, I was greeted by unfamiliar, albeit smiling faces peering out from around the protection of the aged wood and decades of white paint lacquered on their apartment door.
"Come in, come in", the male of the species screeched, holding out his hand in some sort of calming gesture. "Have a seat, have a seat. Can I get you something? A beer?"
Staring at the proffered chair, wondering if the metal bum-mechanism, like I saw in the glass case at Ikea, came with it when my ears perked up.
"Yeah, a beer would be great thanks."
"Is 50 alright?" he probed, heading across the six by six cell of a living room to what appeared to be half a door to the kitchen.
"Sure, a 50 would be great", I lied.
"You like 50? That's awesome. Not many people do. It's my brand, but all my friends think it's piss."
"50's great", I lied again trying desperately to live and breathe the untruth, if only for politeness' sake.
And so it began. The beginnings of my relationship with this guy. Off and on I would see him maybe once or twice a year for 4 or so years. And this was how we were defined.
A little while later, at some acquaintances wedding during a lull on the dance floor:
"Hey, I'm going to the bar, ya want anything?" he'd shout.
"Grab me a beer will you", I'd reply.
And back he came with a 50.
"The last two in the tub! What luck!" he'd gleefully declare handing me the bottle.
A barbeque at their new house:
"Grab a beer. I got a case of 50 'cause I knew you were coming."
And on it went. For a couple of years I was forced to live a lie. Not a big black one, but a little white speck of a lie and it hurt. It hurt like you wouldn't believe. Here I was drinking 50, a beer I couldn't stand. I don't do that. I drink what I want when I want. Domestic bottled beer is for people completely unlike me. Or for long plane rides. But not when you have a choice. Never.
Flash forward a few months or a year, and here I was sitting in a bar/gallery on Queen called 'Social'. Someone else picked it, but it was their day and I needed to make an appearance. Money was tight, the relationship long over, and I had just taken the bus down to Queen. Standing at the bar, pondering what to order, the barman explained the taps.
"Guinness, Creemore and Keiths are $6 a pint and we have 50 at $3 a pint"
Thinking quickly, I reasoned I need to stay for 4 hours, I can drink a pint every half hour, 45 minutes if I nurse. I can't afford $40 on drink. Not if I want groceries on Monday. Not drinking would be too embarrasing and I am sick of leaving early or not showing up at all.
Cinquante, je pense.
And then it began.
Everywhere I went it was a done deal.
"Wanna get a pitcher?" I'd ask on boys night.
"How about Keith's?" would be the universal retort.
"Screw Keith's.
How about 50?"
my id would blurt out.
Sometimes I won. Sometimes I lost.
Thnaks for readin'. I know it has been a while.
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