Apartment in the Sky

by Nic Olson

Moving on up, to the east side.

I got a promotion. Three days of making it happen in the dish pit and I was recognized for my hard work, dedication, attention to detail, skinny arms and ‘Iwannagetthehellouttahere’ attitude. I have been promoted from dish crew rat at the sleazy sports bar attached to the Bell Centre, to Head Coach of the Montreal Canadiens. Jacques isn’t running the team properly, so he got demoted. We basically just traded spots. Look for me on the bench tonight in Florida.

To a deluxe apartment in the sky.

But I got a call centre job. English only, Monday to Friday, 9-5, considerable pay raise. I guess the universe wants me to stay here for a while after all. And I learned my lesson, dishwashing is the pits.

Moving on up, to the east side.

My french is slightly improving. Walking home from the Metro station today in the rain, because bus #24 has dropping the metaphorical ball lately, I passed some Francophone man who wanted to know the time. I showed him the time on my iPod and he walked down Sherbrooke with me about four or five blocks. His name was Steven, he was kind of loopy, he was waiting to meet his cousin. We had an actual conversation, mainly in French, but some in English. I understood some of what he said, I asked him questions in French, and not the few that I learned in grade four, but ones I came up with myself. Steven appreciated it. We shook hands at Papineau and he was on his way.

We finally got a piece of the pie.

Things here are starting to feel like I think they should. Familiarity sets in, but staleness is not at all an issue. Relationships are blooming, not quite the sense of community as back home, but it’s getting there.  Life is good.

Fish don’t fry in the kitchen;
Beans don’t burn on the grill.
Took a whole lotta tryin’
Just to get up that hill.
Now we’re up in the big leagues
Gettin’ our turn at bat.
As long as we live, it’s you and me baby
There ain’t nothin wrong with that.

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