Thought #1 - Flow vs. Follow

Don't be alarmed.. I've had more thoughts than just this one since birth.

Last night, 10:45pm - somewhat bilingual young man named Martin picks me, Sam and Dalandrea up at our new house in Nicolet.  Sam met this boy the night before at the bar down the street, Bavaroise, so he wasn't entirely a stranger.. right?

11:00pm - Find myself mildly alarmed at the speed this young man is able to push out of his poor sunfire, as we reach about 130 km/hr, the casual driving speed of the French.  

11:01pm - kindly try asking the young francophone to slow down, in french. (moins vite, s'il vous plait? - all I could think of at that hour..)  He responds by turning up the music.

It was at this point that I turn to Dalandrea in the back seat and we both begin to laugh.  WHERE ARE WE GOING? we both ask each other, and as difficult as it was to scream over the music, we ask the boy as well.

He tells us he is taking us to Trois Riviere, the city nearest Nicolet, to go to a club; like it was just something one might do on an idle Sunday, right after taking the dog for a walk.  This is the part of the story where I should probably mention that Dalandrea and I were merely along for the ride, just playing wingman for Sam.  Apparently one is not wise to trust French boys after just meeting them.  

Okay cool, I'll go to a club in my dirty jeans and sneakers, whatever. Thanks for telling us this crucial piece of information before we left the house. I suppose that would have been a little difficult considering the whole I-have-to-translate-every-word-of-my-texts-before-sending-them-to-Sam-which-sometimes-allows-for-large-errors-in-grammar thing he had going on.  Tough luck for us.

I guess the point of all this is to question whether or not we were going with the flow of it all or merely following.  Following, because it would be immensely difficult to extricate myself from that vehicle at that time without obtaining severe road rash in the process, or going with the flow on the simple basis that we were accompanying our friend for safety and comfort. 

I had this same experience when I found myself in a white minivan on the way to the dump with a man named Lloyd just outside of Thunder Bay. (see previous post "Weekend of What?"            no really, do it.)

More and more with this whole Katimavik business I ask myself where I am.  Because it changes too frequently to be aware of as it happens.  One minute I am in an airport and the next I'm on a bus.  Thunder Bay was finally getting familiar and regular but then suddenly they shipped us off to a retreat camp and then onto a plane at 6am.  Talk about disorienting.  I've tried to avoid feeling like a pilot-program kid who has all arrangements made for her and actually has choices, but when it comes to transportation us Katimavictims have no say whatsoever.  Feeling like herded sheep in these situations motivates our group more to go out on our free time (something I should probably be doing right now) to see and do what we please.  I can't complain.  The last time I bought my own food was early in October, and I sleep in a bed every night in a house I don't pay rent for.

The club was amazing but for all the old people in it, and none of us were prepared to pay the $12 cover for the top part which probably had live entertainment, more young people and less creeps.  I had a fun time dancing with Dre. We obviously got home safe and sound and before curfew (boo curfew!).  Martin explained to us on the way back that he liked going to Trois Rivieres better than staying around Nicolet because it is richer and has more people.  Fair enough, Martin.  Just don't beat up your car too much over the winter. 

Tonight I'm working on a resume.. en francais.

I like bilingual places.

Petra J.