Alternative

September 28, 2008 at 8:48PM

Alex wanted to reward ourselves for handing in our brilliant English essays so he decided we should smoke weed and go to The Mandarin, a big Chinese dinner buffet that I used to go to for birthday parties when I was younger. They have everything, not just Chinese food; you can stuff yourself with chow mein and garlic bread and pizza and ice cream. It was actually kind of gross, but in a strangely beautiful way... or maybe it was just gross. I don't know.

I agreed to go with him but said I wasn't sure about smoking weed; the last time sort of freaked me out and we had a test the next day in Earth Science that I still needed to study for.

Before going into the restaurant, Alex directed me towards this alleyway nearby, pulled out his pipe and lit up.

"Come on man, just take a few hits with me," he says. "It'll make the food taste so much better."

"Think I'm good," I say.

I feel sort of bad for not partaking, like I was being a bit of a wimp by refusing it; it wasn't like he was asking me to smoke crack.

"Come on man, you sure? It's not going to hurt you."

I change my mind and tell him to give me the pipe.

He says I'm not inhaling properly so I do it again and then cough up a storm.

I feel a head rush and tell myself not to worry about feeling weird, tell myself it's okay: no matter the shift in perception, the night would eventually end, and I'd wake up as my normal, boring self. 

Why am I so addicted to my mundane perspective?

Inside the restaurant, Alex and I are seated at a small table surrounded by a bunch of families and couples. I look out the window. It's dark and rainy outside. There are a million different lights on in the restaurant. The buffet shines like the sun.

Suddenly really hungry, I get up and go to the buffet. Load up my plate.

Back at our table, we both stuff ourselves with food. It's incredibly delicious for the first ten minutes; but when I get close to clearing my plate, I start to feel sick and push it away.

Alex continues to work on his.

"That all you got, tiny Tim?" he says.

"Yup. And that is not going to become my nickname."

"Duly noted."

"I'm more of a scrooge."

"You ain't no scrooge, brother! You're a man of the people!"

"Scrooge is eventually, too."

I notice this little kid at one of the tables across from us: he's with his family and he has this huge grin on his face, a little party hat perched up on his head. His dad is doing an impression of someone, and he's laughing hysterically. He must feel special. I hope he can sustain that special feeling as he gets older; feeling that way is easy when you're young and cute. But you have to evolve. As soon as you become a teenager, there's this whole new set of criteria. People expect a lot more from you. You have to be smart and talented. And not just talented in one thing. But talented in a number of different ways that can become financially useful. You have to stand out as cuteness and youth fade because at some point, people get used to your existence—it just isn't miraculous anymore. And as soon as your existence becomes routine, it almost feels like a burden. You have to earn your spot.

Alex pushes his plate away and turns to me.

"Alright, I'm done, bro. That's all I can eat. Human after all."

"I'm proud of you," I say. "Let's pay and get out of here."

"Get out of here without paying?"

"No!"

"Just joshing, buddy. This one's on me."

Walking back to the subway, Alex and I start talking about the band.

"I feel like if we put in the necessary work, we could really be something," he says.

"Totally."

"Beth's great, huh?" he says. "I think she could be big, you know, if she sticks with it."

He has this big grin on his face as he says this.

"I think so too," I say.

"She's real cool..."

"Yeah,"

"I don't know, I sort of feel like we might have a connection."

"You and her?" I ask.

"Yeah... We'll see what happens, but I'm into her, man... think she's gorgeous and super talented."

My heart. Sinking. Not actually sinking. That's just the expression they use in books and movies to describe the feeling. It's a cliché, I guess. But I don't know how else to describe it. I guess it's not surprising that Alex is also interested in Beth: She's super cute, a great musician, really nice to both of us. I start going over all of my interactions with her in my head and wonder if I just completely imagined the connection I thought she and I had.

What if she had the same exact connection with Alex, or one that was even stronger?

"Cool man, yeah she's great." I say.

I can't tell him I feel the same way about her. If he thinks there's a connection between the two of them, there probably is one. I'm more likely the one out of touch with reality in this scenario.

When I get home, Beth messages me asking if I want to have that rehearsal with just the two of us on the weekend. She's busy Saturday but says I could come over Sunday after she gets home from church.

I reply instantly, saying I'll come over.