Canadian Bacon

The cloud of hash and tobacco smoke penetrates my reservations of being alone in a new and strange place. A beautiful hand leads me passed the gorilla of a bouncer, up a narrow stairway and back amongst to the techno infused world full of sparklers, bottles of Grey Goose and those looking for an escape from reality. Is the stinging in my eyes from the sparklers or from the sweat that is worked up on the dance floor? I gather my senses long enough to glimpse a sight of a personality I have seen hundreds of times on screen. Definitely more beautiful in person. Light penetrates the haze...It's closing time. The hand leads me to coat check, to a cab, to a hole in the wall place specializing in schwarma. The smell hits me before I even step inside. My booze infused brain is in a type of hunger induced coma. Back in the cab and back to the reality of the bitter cold. The package is ripped open before the cabbie puts his foot on the accelerator. The air inside is filled with similar scents of the restaurant and my mouth is flooding with tastes and sensations I have never before experienced. I am riding a wave of elation I haven't had the chance to experience for some time. Maybe it is the hash, the booze, the shwarma or maybe just the sweet Canadian air I have been breathing. But something is different. I have changed. I realize I know less and less about the world and more and more about myself every time I shatter my comfort zone and place myself in a foreign land and get lost. Getting lost is the best way to discover the world.