Again, it's been over a month since I've blogged. Lawdy, lawdy....I am so negligent. There is so much to write, but I'll have to save the tale of the 24 hr. urine collection for later as there is bigger drama to tell.
I went to Vancouver on Saturday for a quicky (not that kind, gutter head, the musical type). The Album Leaf was playing and as nothing comes to Victoria I was gearing to go. Great show, mad props to Team Waplington for scintellating music conversation. Michelle and I hauled it over to DV8 for a little nosh after, insert mad props to Team Harley/Clay for keeping it real during the motel scene happenning in the 2 adjoining booths(Apparently DV8 is the new hotspot to get yer 4play on). Michelle and I headed back to the car around 2-2:30ish, and as we passed Richards on Richards noticed a rather un-Richards like chachi crowd outside. When we were about a 1/2 block north if the club we heard what sounded like a fire cracker, sort of a pop and woosh, then something passed over our heads and hit the building. I was on the inside (next to the building) and when I turned to Michelle she was holding her cheek. I think she said it stung more than hurt and there was a little cut with a red blotch around it. At that point we thought that some jackass had set off a firecracker, which had hit the building and a little chunk of firecraker shrapnel hit her. We were totally pissed, a few inches up and it would have been in her eye. If I were a few inches taller, it would have been my head. Score 1 point for shorties.
The cops were there within a minute, but we did not stick around as we were both exhausted and irked. We sort of joked that she caught the lightening bolt God intended for me for being such a mean ass, but didn't think much of it other than it was another sketchy Vancouver story (see: witnessing of assault and stabbing & break up of post Holt Renfrew party gay domestic smack down).
The next day Michelle texted me to say that her parents had called and asked if she had heard about the shooting at Richards on Richards. How often do you get to tell your parents, "Yeah mom, I heard about and in fact, was there and sustained a minor injury." Jesus. So we are thinking that the bullet probably hit the building just above us (it was close enough to hear it pass) and a little piece of concrete or something flew off and hit Michelle. So post incident scary, I just keep thinking that if it had hit the metal window frame it could have ricochet in to us. Needless to say, next time I see Michelle, she is getting hella hugs.
Which brings me to a point. Not to be all mega dramatic, but it did sort of get me thinking that it really could be that fast. You're just walking down the street and a random bullet/out of control car/ falling window washer takes you out. Done. Over. No good-byes. No, 'Aw shit, did I tell my parents/partner/friends that I love them today?" So tell them. And for the record, if you are reading this you are probably someone I care about, so if the law of averages make an exception for me and I have another handshake with a bullet, know that you are loved.
Special shout outs to my dearest gangsta girl, who you can all now call Fiddy M.