Friday, June 18, 2010

Fun in the Big City

Fun is a construction worker this summer building that evil fence protecting G 20 Summit attendees in Toronto later this month. Before Fun could leave, traveling the four hours up the 401, he asked for gas money because none of the billion dollars being spent on the G 8 and G 20 Summits had yet to trickle down to him. The first few days were dotted with texts expressing how much work and how little fun they have been having working twelve and commuting four hours a day, six days a week. This however makes GG and Decadent Housewife very happy.

Just into the second week of this, Fun made a whirlwind 36 hour visit home. Plunking his bags onto the floor and himself into the kitchen rocker he said, "It sure is good to be back. I do not like cities. What do you have to eat?"
"Is that dirty laundry I smell or you?" I replied, handing him an iced tea.
"Both. Worked all night and drove straight here."

And he told of his adventures in the Big City - Toronto - building a wicked fence around the downtown and the policemen guarding him and the other construction workers. Fun notices policemen - he has always wanted to be one. And he told how one noticed him going through a yellow and gave him a ticket for going through a red. And how he got two flat tires, together, at the same time. And how he accidentally dumped over a cart of fence parts into the middle of an intersection and no one ran him over because the policemen guarding him did their job and came to his rescue. And how policemen do not carry and dispense tylenol for construction workers with misbehaving wisdom teeth, but Big City hotels do.

He rocked. I fixed his supper, "first real food in days," while listening to tales of crazy drivers and "I really don't like being away from home."
I thought about the enlistment papers I'd found while cleaning his room. I'd tucked them into a bottom drawer, wondering that this experience would put the kibosh on that.
Across the table sat a sun browned young man. Wiser, brawnier than when he left not even two weeks ago. Happy. Tired. I didn't notice the bald spot he thinks his hardhat is causing. I saw a sturdily built five-year old, reflected in my rear view mirror, running to the front lawn of the little country school - waving - smiling - as I drove away down the road.

"I think we're staying longer than three weeks - repairs if the fence needs it - tearing down afterward."
"You need to visit the Royal Ontario Museum and the Art Gallery of Ontario and St. Lawrence Market and Cabbagetown. For goodness sake use the food allowance you get and buy a decent meal. Go somewhere downtown. Maybe an open air cafe. Go to the top of the CN.
Unless that fence you're building is going to keep you out."
"I've got security clearance."
"Well do it. And wear a jacket. And University of Toronto is having a Doris McCarthy exhibition. You really must see it.
Think about your art.
Think about those policemen who don't like their jobs.
Be careful."


Adeena said...

Wow! Busy guy. :)

Those are quite the fences, eh?

I don't think boys ever think about getting a decent meal on their own. At least, not in my experience. ;)

Mental P Mama said...

Beautiful, beautiful post. Sigh. Our boys. I hope those papers stay way down in that drawer.