La Bureau Aux Sports

by Nic Olson

I was walking home last night around midnight after a pleasant time at a bluegrass night, featuring hits from Hank Williams and a handful of others at Barfly, the only bar in the city that loves Habs, country music, and lets a pair of giant huskies walk around the stage while the band is playing. While walking, on the side of the road about five blocks from my apartment was a nice old wooden desk. It was sitting tipped over with the drawers sitting next to it. I needed it. My room is pretty humble; mattress on the floor, clothes in the bag that they traveled in, and everything else placed strategically around my mattress so as little movement as possible is necessary to reach the essentials, i.e. the laptop and water bottle. So this desk was necessary. I put the drawers in the desk and lifted it up, walked it up a block, dropped it and left. It was a little much for my lowly retail biceps.

I walked home. I was greeted by my newly engaged roommate, and convinced him to help me carry it the four blocks to the apartment. We walked there and talked about how he proposed, in a pitch black restaurant with only blind employees, as they ate their meal in the darkness. After three or four breathers and a few more groans, the desk made it home. It made it down the stairs at 1am. It made it through the front door. It did not make it through my bedroom door. So in the hallway/entrance way it sat for the night. Sideways and drawerless, completely naked. I popped my door off this morning and slid it in without a trace of damage… My first furniture purchase matches the hardwood impeccably, and matches the owner even better.

I got a job. La Cage Aux Sports. Sports Bar inside the Bell Centre. Dishwasher. Minimum wage. If that’s not living the dream, I don’t know what is. Washing dishes for the Habs. Nothing sweeter.

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