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The Guy That Sits in the Bathroom at a Club

I’m not even sure I need to justify this, and in fact, this or being a lumberjack, was a tough call. This may be even worse than a pepper spray tester.

I’ve often wondered how these guys can do it: standing in the washroom for 8 hours, handing out towels to D-bags and hoping to get a loonie in return. I was at Mod Club on Saturday, and I happened to be in the bathroom long enough to hear the kind of things he had to put up with. Not just the smell of urine, combined with booze and an array of bad to worse colognes, but to listen to big, white boys –most likely frat brothers– ask him the same questions over and over, on separate visits.

Sometimes its an immigrant named Pedro, other times its an old white guy in a tuxedo, probably looking to supplant his pension income. On this night, it was a young, black guy with the look of pure torture in his eyes. He didn’t even bother handing out towels or offer gum. He just sat on his stool, decaying from the acidic fumes in the washroom.

As I was standing in line waiting to pee, I witnessed two different meatheads come in after another and ask the poor guy, “Oh man, you must hear the craziest stories, eh! What’s the craziest thing you’ve ever seen?” As if they were old friends. Maybe because he was black they thought it’d be cool to befriend him and hence be cool by association.

And just as I was leaving the washroom, I heard a third meathead burst into the washroom, yelling, screaming, singing and then striking up the exact same conversation with him as the previous two guys. I would not have blamed him, if he just lost it right there. “That’s it!” he’d yell. “Fuck this job!” And then maybe, spray a bottle of cologne right into their eyes and dunk their heads into the toilet. I could imagine that is what I’d do. But I wouldn’t have the same problems as he does. No one wants to befriend an Asian guy wearing an argyle sweater vest.

Maybe instead of community service, they should put criminals into these washrooms and make them work for free. Maybe instead of jail time, they were required to endure a few nights of this mental punishment; breathing in the urinal cake aroma and mopping up projectile vomit.

I hate having to tip those guys, seeing as I’m tipping the bartendars a buck a drink, but in some situations, I feel so bad for the guy, I just drop a fiver and then pee with an eased conscience the rest of the night.

My retirement plan

I’ve been back from Europe for two weeks and slowly getting into the rut of things again. My summer of unemployment is moving along smoothly and my weeks blur into my weekends; neither are so very different. I wake up, roll over to the living room and continue my foray into self-employment. I’ve recruited a friend to join me in my quest for emancipation. He’ll likely help out with business development.

We often have video conferences using Skype, sometimes daily. Its encouraging to talk to people when you’re self-employed and work from home, seeing as the most conversation I have is with my tequila bottle. I like to reach out to those who are in the same situation as me, and we form an ad hoc league of self-employed deadbeats.

He commented once, when we were Skyping, that the scenary never changes in the webcam. Sometimes I am topless, but the background is generally a scattering of papers, dying plants and biodegradable coffee cups. Perhaps I might surprise him one day and answer the video chat from my bathtub.

You might think of me as a Man of Leisure, but that is the whole point to being your own boss. You work at your own pace. I work during the mornings the best and rest during the afternoon, reading books on related materials. Sometimes I work late into the night, other times I work Sundays skipping meals. That is all part of the new world order for me.

I think back to my vacation in Europe, and when people ask me about it, I catch myself sounding like a tired old cliché. Is Europe a cliché? I have always thought so, doing my best to avoid Western Europe mostly, but wondering why do people have the same general experiences when going to Europe? “A revelatory experience!” or “I’m a changed man!” are the catch-phrases of European dilettantes upon their return. Though I cannot articulate why, I feel remorseful for feeling the same way.

I came home to an apartment strewn with cobwebs, a few knocked over potted plants and dishes I somehow missed cleaning before I left. The spiders did not miss me at all and I had to throw out a cup that became home to a colony of pathogens, nestled in a puff of orange, furry moss. And somehow, there are ants roaming freely in my apartment. At least, rent-freely.

Only two weeks ago, I was sharing a park bench with a bearded homeless man* as we silently watched the scene that revealed itself before us: the sun going down over Lake Zürich, young Italian travelers laughing by the port, a Swiss couple hand-in-hand walking along the dock and scooters zipping and buzzing by behind us. I had a small tupperware of mini-pepperettes which I would quietly pass over to him and we ate without saying a word. If that’s not romance, I wouldn’t know what is.

It’s scenes like those that I remember about my trip. That, or sitting in a big park in the middle of Stockholm with Liam, eating a torn off leg of a Tandoori chicken in one hand, and gripping the neck of a bottle of red wine with the other. Or jumping on a train to Vienna instead of a plane back home, looking to spend one more week, maybe seeing something I wasn’t expecting. Searching for moments, taking chances and never looking back.

I’ve been looking to gain clarity and see through the fog without the necessity of infrared glasses (although that might be pretty cool). The future remains uncertain, with only a shell of a plan for myself, so any guidance I can ascertain from reading these books will hopefully make me more sure-footed if not somewhat emboldened.

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*I met another homeless man at the train station (Zürich HB) later on that evening. I sat in the SBB lounge waiting for my train while he sat beside me. I offered him some of my aforementioned pepperettes. He began to speak to me about Che Guevara in German. None of which I understood. He was a large man, of about 50. Stood 6 feet tall, perhaps taller. He proceeded to pull up his pants (while explaining to me in German) and showed me his swollen ankles. Due to malnutrition I suppose, or possible walking a lot. He refused my pepperettes and walked away, but not before shaking my hand in gratitude.

Mesmerized by the ugliest monument ever

It’s been a week since I’ve arrived in Stockholm. I’ve mostly walked and taken the local transit around town to see the city. The city is surprisingly smaller than I thought it would be. Mostly centered around the royal palace and shopping districts.

The people here are as rumours foretold: glamourous, stylish and beautiful. A few centuries of war, famine and disease have done well to clean out the gene pool. Most days, I meet Liam for lunch. We typically grab some take-out and sit in the park with his co-workers. The park is always full of people and there’s even a bar in one of the parks near Stureplan. I spent one lazy afternoon sitting at a floating bar by the water and even took a nap on the bench.

I spent yesterday afternoon wandering around Södermalms, one of the islands in Stockholm. There are so many islands in this archipelago I can imagine spending a few weeks just sailing around them all. I walked up and down the cobblestoned streets, for a few hours until resting at a small Indian food restaurant and sat outside for a mid-afternoon snack. Feeling my way around, I continued through the backstreets and wound up in a small city park that had a large fountain. The fountain had a sculpture of a viking beating down a dragon that spewed out water.

One of the great things about Sweden is all the public people spaces they have. Large squares, fountains, sculptures and various other centerpieces. In the round-about near the center of it all, there is a large (very ugly) monument in a fountain. Then there are benches lined up on the sidewalk for people to just sit and watch the fountain. It’s great for people watching too.

Today, I’m heading over to Djurgården island and maybe try to take in a couple museums or castles. Most of Europe can be described by a continent of museums and architecture. I’ve decided to extend my trip by a week to visit Vienna and Prague. I’ll be leaving for Zurich on Friday morning.