The Art of the Hustle

  ***

  “Good morning,” an unfamiliar female voice said. My eyes slowly peeled open.

  “Trevor?” she said again.

  “Yes. Good morning,” I mumbled, still half asleep.

  “Hello, I’m Judy, Jack’s wife.”

  “Hello, it is very nice to meet you. I’m so sorry about the intrusion last night. I appreciate you allowing me to crash on your couch.”

  “How long were you planning on staying here?” she asked. Now I was beginning to feel a little uncomfortable, but I completely understood. It was one thing to help out your son’s friend, but Darrell was not her son. So to her, I was just some dude who came into her life in the middle of the night and was now on her couch.

  “Um, I, well, we...” The words did not come to my mouth. I didn’t want to impose and I had no idea what Darrell had told his dad. I was under the impression we would be able to stay there for a while, perhaps a month, to get on our feet. Darrell had assured me of this, he had said his dad had a lot of connections in the city and he had a lot of extra furniture we could have. Now I was not sure if any of that was true.

  Judy interjected with another question that made me feel even more uncomfortable. “Where is Darrell?” That was actually a legitimate question, one that I wanted to know the answer to.

  “I’m not sure,” I responded.

  “Well, Jack and I have to leave for work soon, so I can drop you off somewhere.” It was clear she was not offering me a ride to be nice, she wanted me out of her house.

  “I suppose I could do some exploring around town,” I suggested.

  “Can you be ready in a half an hour?”

  “Sure. No problem.”

  Judy dropped me off at a bus stop and I took a bus downtown. As I came over the bridge, I was in awe of the magnificent skyline. The modern buildings ascended from the waterfront like jagged crystals, which complemented the monstrous snow-peaked mountain range in the background. The buildings were so enormous, like nothing I had seen before. I had always lived in small towns where the tallest building was only six stories high.

  I exited at what appeared to be the busiest intersection in the downtown core. I felt the hustle instantly. There were thousands of people walking around, street performers playing music, people honking their car horns, buses releasing their air breaks, sirens going off, and even the faint chant of protesters coming from somewhere. I was definitely not in Banff anymore.

  I looked up and felt so small next to all the towering skyscrapers. As I walked around, taking in the new sites, I came across one building that stood out like a shiny glass beacon among the rest. When I approached closer, I read the massive brass sign in front:

  LINDBERG

  I looked way up toward the sky and could barely see the top of the enormous structure. For a moment, I wondered what Lindberg did, but I kept moving.

  For the next eight hours, I did some exploring. I walked up and down the blocks, checked out the mall, walked around Stanley Park, and went down to the harbor. At 5:00 p.m., I decided I had seen enough for one day so I took a cab back to Mr. Channing’s house.

  When I arrived, I walked up the steps and rang the doorbell. I was hoping Darrell would be there because I felt like I was imposing. After all, I didn’t even know these people.

  Judy answered the door and let me in. She was much friendlier than she was in the morning. Now that she was home, she could keep an eye on me. She obviously didn’t trust me too much, however, I was a friend of Darrell’s so I didn’t blame her.

  I could smell the wonderful aroma as soon as I walked in the house. I took off my shoes and followed Judy into the kitchen. Mr. Channing was making his specialty, spaghetti and meatballs.

  “Wow, smells great!” I said.

  “Hey, Trevor, how’s it going?”

  “It’s going well. I had a fun day today, did some exploring downtown. How was your day?”

  “It was good.”

  “Any word from Darrell yet?” I asked.

  “Yeah, I called him today and he will be arriving tomorrow morning. We’ll have to pick him up at the airport.”

  “At the airport? He’s flying in?” I asked in disbelief. It never occurred to me how Darrell would get to Vancouver; I just assumed he would take the bus or hitch a ride with someone.

  “Yeah, I bought him a plane ticket.”

  “Did he say why he wasn’t here sooner?”

  “No, I’m not sure what’s going on with him, I called him today around noon and he was still sleeping.”

  Still sleeping? I thought. Typical Darrell, he told me to meet him on Wednesday, and it was already Thursday evening, and he still had not shown up. And he was sleeping until noon! I was quite disappointed, but not the least bit surprised. After all, he was really lazy and very irresponsible. He only thought about himself and still could not seem to manage his own life properly. I knew moving in with him was a bad idea; he did drugs, drank heavily, had no manners, and no people skills. By all accounts, he was a complete disaster. Even with these reservations, I still decided to go through with it. After my experience in Banff, I just wanted a friend, someone who could copilot the big city with me.