Away I Go

I spent the last two nights in Tacoma with one of my dear graduate school mates. It was a much needed but bittersweet adieu for now of art talk, gallery browsing and karaoke hopping. (By the way, if you ever pass through, stop at Bob's Java Jive Sunday, Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, but not Saturday for karaoke. And if you want to see Larry make sure you do it on a Sunday, Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday.)
After helping said friend install paper animals in the underpass foliage for an art walk, I headed out to Vancouver. The drive was easy and lovely. I could not believe just how easy the border crossing was. There was one car in front of me. One. Yes. One. I've been crossing borders my whole life and never had that short of a wait. Everything looked beautiful.
I arrived at the hotel I'm staying at for the next few days, met with my future boss and settled in. I went solo in search of food and decided to go with what was close, Red Robin. The scrunched line at the door had me opt for the speedy bar seating. I ordered and sat patiently, texting faraway friends. Soon my food arrived and I began eating.
I was halfway through my meal when the older, admittedly tipsy, Indian fellow sitting across the bar came over. He ascertained that because I, being a pretty lady, was by myself I must have either been stood up or not from there, which means American. Quickly he asked me what I thought about Occupy Wall Street, then who I was voting for in the coming election. I recalled with sudden ah shitness just how much Canadians love to talk American politics. He was stern in telling me to vote for Ron Paul, then somehow got carried away into preparing me for 2012. Initially I thought this meant something about the election but it was in regards to doomsday predictions.
I was informed that far off in the universe a supernova occurred and the gamma waves from this event will be reaching us in 2012. "Don't be afraid." He spoke these words multiple times. His advice was to spend as much time as possible outside during November and December of next year to absorb the gamma waves. "Time will stand still. But don't be afraid" At this point the two bartenders kept checking in on me to make sure I was okay, as did a patron sitting just behind us. "What are we afraid of? We will all die one day, so what are we afraid of?" He asked my name for the fourth time, shook my hand and said he just wants me to know there is nothing to be afraid of, not to let fear stop me. He then stood, kissed my cheek and left.
The bartender came over, apologized and mentioned he was a regular that had been coming there for two years. He drinks, sometimes leaves quietly but once in a while hones in on someone. I said it was fine and smiled. He was right after all. What is there to be afraid of?