This was the very first picture I took when I entered our childhood townhouse complex. My brother was recording our discussion on a mini disc while we walked around and I just listened to 30 minutes of it while I prepped this image. Lots of interesting observations and sounds. He actually got a really good recording of the buzzing of the box.

This photo is boring so I didn't want to post it as the main photo but I wanted to tell the story behind it. This is a story that illustrates how sometimes I can be foolishly cocky and why I had to get out of that fucking town.

My brother and I arrived in our old neighbourhood by cab. In one of many strange twists the funeral home that held our father's body was right across the street. I had to use the bathroom but didn't want the numerous relatives that were congregating outside to see us so we took a cab to a plaza on the other side hoping there'd be something there. Unfortunately nothing was open. My only choice was this creepy, dingy bar with tinted windows called The Titanic. My brother warned "You're brave going in there. Braver than walking over to that funeral home and confronting our relatives."

It wasn't a matter of bravery but necessity. I'll do a lot to avoid urinating on myself.

I strolled inside and there were two patrons sitting at the bar, some kind of late 70's Leonard Skynard-alike blarring from the "sound system". One of the patrons turned to me and drunkenly slurred, "It's 50 cents." "Fine." I yelled back and headed through the swinging doors. While in the bathroom I thought "This guy thinks he can intimidate me and force me to slink out of here." So of course I couldn't just let it slide. I readied two quarters and stepped back into the bar. The same patron started yelling at me again. "It's 50 cents! Where's my 50 cents! Hand it over!" I charged forward authoritatively and stopping next to the guy slapped two quarters onto the counter but slid them forward towards the bartender and away from him then turned back to him, looked into his eyes and stated "There's your 50 cents." Then I turned around and strolled to the door yelling back "I knew it was bullshit."

The patron yelled back "Fuck you bitch!"

I stepped outside to meet my brother and since he heard the yelling (recorded on the mini disk.) asked what happened. As we headed across the street the same guy stumbled out of the bar flailing his arms and yelling "Have some respect bitch!"

Then a full 5 minutes later when we were nearly out of sight he came out and started yelling again and then turned and headed toward his minivan to come after us.

What's even better is that as Jay and I made our last few steps out of the area at the end of the day, a dog suddenly lept out from the bushes (safely behind a fence thankfully) and went beserk barking and leaping at the fence. Aggression on the way in and aggression on the way out.