Canadian Yuppies

Still groggy from the previous night at the hookah bar, the crew -- Kenneth, Trinh, Don, and Xixi -- reconvened on Saturday for a hot pot lunch at a dumpling house. Together, we re-hydrated while trying to reconstruct the night from the collective remnants of our memories.

We were joined by Thu and a co-worker of hers, a guy who initially seemed proper and professional, but after listening to our lunch conversation, quickly showed a cruder side, humorously profane topped with indiscreet misogynism.

Thu is a chick from Canada that works for the same suits as Titty and Kenneth, except in the Canadian office. I met her a little over a year ago when I was entertaining an offer from that company, and she was in town attending a training class. In that time span, I accepted another offer, left that job, and moved onto yet a new employer. Thu, on the other hand, is in town this year to lead a training class.

Her co-worker apparently holds a high level position in the Canadian office, though he didn't look or act like he was any older than his mid-late twenties, if even. Kenneth was accordingly very reserved around the guy.

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Later in the night, Titty joined us and we took Thu and her co-worker to an upscale bar downtown with a live cover band that I think Trinh has some sort of man-crush on. The few of us from the previous night were still weary, though, so we were conservative with the drinks.

I baby-sat a glass of Sprite, faking drinks half the night.

The Canadian guy, however, came out hell-bent on making it a night as it was his last in town. He ordered rounds of Prairie Fires, which he claimed was a Canadian drink, though I doubt either tequila or Tobasco sauce originated from Canada.

At some point in the night, the guy told me that he wanted to pull some of "these bitches." When I asked him why he called them bitches, he said, "Because they're bitches!" I told him that he wasn't gonna get any if he kept calling them bitches, and he retorted, "You got to put them in their place. You got to tell them they're bitches, and let them know they're bitches, or they'll start thinking they're the shit or something!"

If he weren't Canadian, we probably could've been best friends.

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At the end of the night, Kenneth was driving the Canadian guy back to his hotel, and just as the car pulled into the parking lot, the guy opened his rear driver-side door and hurled. As concerned as Kenneth was about partying with higher-ranking management in his company, the guy puked all over his car.

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Tuesday, I took an extended break from the office and had lunch with Thu at a pho shop. We made catch-up talk -- I updated her on how things went downhill for me at my last place of employment and my outlooks about the new one, and she told me about her stuff and about the wedding she was going to have in -- I think -- September.

Some time just over a year ago, she was telling me about how she didn't believe marriage was a terribly big deal, and that she wouldn't care if she never married her man. At that time, I was telling her about how I didn't need growth and money to be primary factors in my career decisions as long as I loved what I did.

This year, I left a company of very friendly, very personable, like-minded peers and moved into a more structured, professional environment that conveniently came with better recognition and pay. Last year, I was chasing aspirations. This year, I chase paper. When asked what the difference was, my answer was simple: I can hold money.

I can only imagine that a ring might, likewise, be easier to hold than things like love and whispered promises.