Chapter Forty Seven; When Canadians Attack. (Or just Sleep on your Sofa.)

“Can you pick me up? Couch surfing Canadians don’t have room in their car,” read the text message from one of my newest, and most intriguing, friends, Kris.

It is really interesting the twists and turns life can take, the characters who filter in and out of our own biographies. Our lives are just stories in the end, with the largest and most important aspect consisting of the people whose presences unexpectedly weave into the fabric of our own.

Oh sure, for the most part we definitely have some level of control. For those of us lucky enough to live in the free world we have a say in who we marry (and divorce, in my case), where we choose to work and live,and what kind of activities fill the twenty-fours in each of our days.

But those are just the settings for life’s screenplay.

The cast of characters is another story entirely.

None of us hold auditions for our neighbors, co-workers, and the random people who seemingly stumble into our lives only to unexpectedly enrich them with friendships we don't know how we could have ever lived without. Ironically, these starring roles end up being played by people who arrived on the scene by sheer coincidence and the perplexing surprise that is serendipity.

And we are so often blessed because of it.

My friend, Kris, is one of those blessings for me.

I met him months ago in a mundane way: at the gym. And by some odd coincidental mixture of shared interests, friends, and basically just being at the same place at the same time often enough, we have become good friends this summer. Our values are very similar, and if there are any discrepancies between them, I absolutely confess it is because his are higher than mine.

On top of the fact that if he were Catholic I would petition Rome for his canonization, he is absolutely the coolest weirdo I have ever met.

Last Thursday night is a perfect example.

Shortly after receiving said text about sofa surfing strangers, I head out to pick him up as requested.

And why does he need a ride?

And what the hell is the story about the Canadians?

Well, he needs a lift because it is storming out and he only has a bike at the moment. Oh, I know! How lame is that? Totally lame.

Until you consider the fact that he has intentionally chosen not to fix his car so he can instead spend all of his money on a six week trip to China to immerse himself in another culture and learn the language.

Is that not cool or what? Oh, come on! It’s way cool.

It’s so damn cool I have to reach for a sweater every time I think about it.

In fact, shivering now.

As for the Canadians . . .

They are complete strangers he met on the Internet because he signed up on some obscure website to participate in some completely nut ball concept called “couch surfing.”

Don’t worry, I needed this explained to me as well.

Apparently you can literally register your couch on the web as a free place for nomadic strangers to crash. Kris thought this sounded like a fantastic thing to do.

Hence, two tattooed Canadian chicks are staying at his house tonight on their way to Halifax.

Yep. That’s pretty damn weird.

I totally agree.

But kinda cool too, I think?

After all, this is something that literally, only Kris could get away with. If the rest of us tried it, everyone would just think we were just nuts and ridicule us behind our backs.

And so here I am last Thursday, picking up his car-less-China-obsessed-Internet-trusting-ass, and letting two women from the land of maple leaves and Moosehead beer follow us to our favorite Thursday night hang out.

Let’s just say that since Kris arrived in my social solar system my life got far more interesting, to say the least.

We end up having a great time. As for what we talked about, let's just say these two didn't change my perception of Canadians. They were quite liberal. Case in point: I learned the hard way that if the topic of body piercing comes up in conversation and you do not actually see that this person has any obvious places pierced (nose, ears, even eyebrow) do NOT ask where these elusive pierced areas are.

Trust me.

You do not want to know.

The next day I email Kris to see if his hospitality included any waffle making the next morning. And of course, since these women were Internet strangers after all (and I've seen far too much Dateline), I wanted to confirm he was not the victim of a crazy international murder spree. Or worse yet, awakened in the middle of the night to find his hands duct taped to his headboard in some twisted cross country involuntary piercing escapade.

He emailed me back right away letting me know that no, he was not murdered. And as for my other theory, he assured me that his being anywhere in the vicinity of a bed with those two was probably not likely as considering how much the girls gushed about how pretty I was after I dropped him off, he was pretty sure they were lesbians.

Okay then.

Enough said there.

But my point is, as you can see, the addition of Kris to my life's cast of characters has instantly made my storyline more colorful. I didn't hold any auditions. He just showed up. Ripped cut off jeans, crazy ideas and all. (Don't even get me started on his scheme for Turkish food.)

So here’s to life’s twists and turns, and the uncontrollable dimensions that end up enriching our lives the most: unexpected friendships, and the arrival of one very cool weirdo in mine.

Couch surfing Canadians and all.