I am 22. I am on a resort in the Dominican Republic, the first week of a summer long vacation that also includes Toronto and much of Western Europe, a trip booked by my friend Bosh for the two of
I am 21. I’m playing chess with a guy I just met, the younger brother of someone my friend is dating. The clock shows 3:22am. I’m definitely drunk, but not in any one of the ways you aim for when
I am 20. It is a rainy June evening in the basement of a smoke-filled house. We are playing a drinking game that involves guessing the value of the next card in the deck. However many digits away from your
I am 19. I am 19. I’m with my cousin and friend Peter as we enter the Breezeway, the campus bar at the university I unexpectedly dropped out of a couple of months earlier, spurred by a poker tournament win.¹
I am 18. It’s Salmon Fest weekend in Grand Falls, and we leave town a day early to stay in Gander for the night so we can get a decent campsite. We go to Legends for a few drinks, where
I am 17. I’m in the back of a loafing van, driving around during lunch. Alistair throws a small packet of maple syrup at a stranger on the street but it never reaches her, as it first explodes on Joe’s
I am 16. I am at a party at Marina’s house. I am happily drunk and jumping high on a trampoline with a gaping hole near the middle. Her parents are out of town, and their place is encircled by
I am 15. One morning during the second week of high school, large planes crash into larger buildings in strategic locations in the United States, which causes many air travellers coming west from Europe to become grounded in my city.
I am 14. I’m at a birthday party at North Bank Lodge, in Pippy Park. A guy I know puts a cigarette out on my neck and laughs with no malice. I end up with a bottle of wine, stumbling
I am 13. I have just finished boxing in a match at the premier’s house. His son, my friend, is having a birthday party, and he would occasionally steal his father’s car and drive us around the neighbourhood. Years later,
