The Small Hours

I've just gotten home from one of my infamous "nights out". This is where I head out for a social engagement with one group of people, then transfer to another, most commonly at the Cat 'n Fiddle Pub here in Calgary, but often as not at other places too. I just seem to find social people and groups in all kinds of places, where ever I go. It works that way for me.

Tonight was a typical night. I started out with the youngsters, a group of 30 somethings, at Name That Tune. It always surprises me, the welcoming inclusion of this collection of young men and women who by rights should find no reason to hang out with me, or to let me hang out with them. Yet they do. In fact more than once, when I have chosen to be with another of my groups at this particular weekly event, the kids have gotten rather miffed with me at my "rejection" of them and preference for a group more reflective of my age and social group.

Tonight was more than typical. They included me in their conversation, listened to when I had something to contribute, forgave me when I was incorrect. When the time came to dance, they did their best to get me going in my wheelchair; tonight was a great example when they were all doing the "Locomotion". I became the engine at the front of the train and they pushed me about until I was too tired to go any more. I didn't ask; they just included me. I felt involved, a part of things.

As their evening came to an end, I moved to spend time with the "regulars". These are the people who are there on a consistent basis, either friends of the owner or friends of the staff. I've been spending more and more time with this group on Thursday nights, plus other nights when I am nearby. They too have included me as a part of this constant social set, one of the folks who is just a part of things.

As the evening wears on, and the public leaves, I hang with the staff. They have also "adopted" me. They include me in their stuff, talk to me about life in the bar and life outside the bar. They share their frustrations, difficulties, successes. They talk about what it's like in their life; I listen, sharing the odd comment when I can. If you know anything about me, you will know that perhaps it is more than the odd comment.

In the end, it becomes a very late night, something creeping into the small hours of the morning. I love this, that I can live in both the day and the night, that I can have a life that goes beyond the simple or ordinary. I have the most interesting of lives, one filled with the energy of those young people, the cares and concerns of those "regulars", and the one on one with the people who live in the twilight hours. Who could ask for a more interesting life?