Calgarians

 

A few years back a friend and I, both residents of the city of Calgary, went to Chicago to give the town a proper once over and check out a bunch of live music in a number of historic or quasi-historic venues. I can assure readers that the citizenry of Musicland Chic-a-go-go can be relied upon to provide the very best advise respective of good places to eat windy city treats. Frankly, my friend and I dined like potentates. When one Chicago musician heard me use the word "Calgarians," he said it sounded like some ferocious tribe from the series Game of Thrones. The next night my friend and I checked out some black metal at the Empty Bottle and at some point an oddly leering man in a black suit came up to me and asked if I was enjoying my trip to Chicago, then, turning wistfully toward the stage, declaiming, but somehow cheerfully: "I hate this music!" Momentarily perplexed, I quickly deduced that the stranger, harmless and even amiable, was a follower of my friend and fellow Calgarian on this or that or however many social media (harvesters of) organs. Always remember, Mizzz 5th of November, that when you tell the whole world where you're going you increase the likelihood of being intercepted a hundredfold.

I went to the last show at the Black Lounge in the University of Calgary's MacEwan Hall, back for the summer, I believe, from my first year of undergraduate studies out East, and my girlfriend and I got so stoned it was ridiculous. We spent at least as much time tripping out in the racket ball courts as we did checking out the bands (including headliners Chixdiggit). On the way home from the show, I became disoriented in a construction zone and found myself facing oncoming traffic on Sarcee such that I had no choice but to hit the ditch and get back to the correct side. Which I did just fine. It's the country in me. Nor was my girlfriend especially phased. This is the lass for whom I fell hard on the occasion of her having gotten out of my car at a red light to go and ask the man three cars ahead of us if she could have his cigar.

Calgary was a sensible place to build a fledgling city for the not-uncommon reason that two major rivers meet here. Those who pioneered this dicey in-between territory assured that their own progeny would themselves breed multitudes of crust and steam punks. Calgary does assuredly get mighty cold, but the overall dryness of its climate is no small mercy. Not to mention the warm mountain winds that take a bit of the sting out of winter. There are about 1.5 million Calgarians, but they cannot possibly be up to all that much or I'd have surely caught wind of it by now.