Destiny

  The sun seems somewhat reluctant to rise over a sleeping Dallas. Lying in bed, motionless, sleepless, I start to worry a little about the recent bout of insomnia that plagues me. Thoughts of work creep into my mind and snuggle up beside other thoughts already troubling me… thoughts of politics and sport and death and the absence of romance. Even the cat has disappeared. Finally, I gather the motivation to saunter into the kitchen to make a cup of coffee. Back in bed, sipping in silence, I glance at the screen and see not too much in the way of positivity. 

                  When I venture outside, I discover that the cat’s food bowl, which sat untouched all day yesterday, is empty, which means that she appeared and ate at some point in the night. It wasn’t the birds that ate the food because they leave a different pattern. There is still no sign of the cat, however. The cooler temperatures must have unleashed a new lease of life pushing her to explore the neighbourhood with renewed vigour. 

                  Cycling around the lake I stop at The Reservoir, the area’s prominent sports bar. Destiny is working there… she is a Chicago native, always wearing a Chicago Bears shirt and today the Bears are playing the Green Bay Packers. Chicago are losing badly and some really loud Green bay fans are in the bar being as annoying as they can be, inspired, I suppose, by Destiny’s Chicago Bears shirt. I suddenly begin to think of Jacky Chan magically appearing and jumping around the room kicking and slapping everyone. I share this vision with Destiny and she laughs excitedly. A guy walks in and orders a shot of ‘Rumple.’ The Heavy Metal Cowboy, Marshall, appears behind the bar, shakes my hand, and I ask what Rumple is. Destiny pours me a shot ‘to taste’. Marshall tells me it is 50% alcohol and 100 proof. I taste it and it is exactly like the mouthwash that the dentist gives you when you have finished your treatment. An extremely dangerous drink. 

                  I cycle home before it becomes too dangerous to cycle and the rest, as they say, is history. 



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