The Best Things In Life

- hot yoga
- "Love Generation" by Bob Sinclair
- my "Thug Love" playlist
- and this semi-recent happening:

It was Saturday evening. I blew up from the subway, energized and excited for a night out with some new friends from work. I got up onto ground level, trying to figure where Bloor Street was so I could orient myself. I bopped along to whatever tune my iPod had playing and was about to walk out a set of doors when I decided to stop and ask the two guys standing there for some directions.

"Excuse me, do you guys know where Bloor Street is? I'm not really from around here."

"Oh yeah, it's just over that way." I started to take a step in the direction of their pointing fingers saying, "Awesome, thanks!" when one of them pulled me back by the shoulder.

"Whoa, whoa. You can't go out there."

I was puzzled. "What? Why not?"

"Don't you see that?"

"See what?" I was almost vaguely creeped out when I turned and saw what they were talking about. Parked right in front of the set of doors to the subway station was a taxi cab. On fire.

I gasped. "Holy crap! I didn't even notice that!"

"Whaaat?!" The two of them burst out laughing and nearly fell to the floor. I suppose it was fairly funny that, despite the crowd that had formed, the smell of smoke and burning oils and rubbers, I didn't notice a flaming vehicle that was in my way. These guys thought it was hilarious.

"Are you serious?! Did you really not see that?!"

"Well, no... I was just looking for Bloor Street!" More laughter ensued. I paused. "Well, what am I supposed to do now? I have to go that way - I'm going to be late!"

"You can still go. You just have to avoid the burning car that might explode." And more laughter...

"Great - that convinced me." I putzed back and forth. I looked at them. "Seriously, do you think I can go? It won't blow up, will it?"

"Nah, you can make it. It'll only take a couple seconds to run past it."

I narrowed my eyes. "Are you sure?" I took a breath and got ready to make a run for it. I surveyed the scene. The flames were getting bigger. And it was burning where I thought the explode-y type things were to be found. The crowd was growing, gathering farther away from it. I stepped back. "No, no way! It's totally going to blow up. I can't go past that thing!"

"Oh you totally can! Just run, really fast." This coming from the guys who tried to stop me from going out there at all - and now they were supporting me in it. I'm sure I looked skeptical and apprehensive.

"...maybe I should just stay for a bit. I kind of want to watch it explode."

"Come on," one of them said. "I'll go with you."

Before the word "What?" had left my mouth, he grabbed my hand and we ran for it.

Screaming with laughter, we ran through the smoke, right past the taxi cab on fire, nearly crashed into an onlooker taking a photo, through the crowd, and made it to the other side. We must have looked like lunatics.

Laughing and filled with glee, we high-fived each other and let out a couple celebratory cheers and whoops of joy. It was hilarious - I hadn't had that much spontaneous fun in a long while. When I had caught my breath I smiled, thanked him, and bid him good luck in getting through the cloud of smoke to find his buddy. He wished me luck in finding Bloor Street. And with that, we turned and went our ways.

My friends were incredulous when I told them the story; not at the odd situation, but at the fact that I didn't make a move. Maybe I should have asked him where he was going that night, and why the 12-pack of beers in his other hand. Maybe I should have told him where I was going to be. I didn't ask for his name or his number, and I didn't offer my own. My friends made me think that I should have, but really, I didn't even think of it at the time. I was having too much fun. Ultimately, I'm content with the fact that I didn't do anything.

I suppose I felt that sometimes, these little moments just need to be left as they are. Pockets of time where everything feels suspended for a moment and the only things that exist are a fiery blur rushing past you, the feeling of someone's hand clutched tightly in yours, the sound of wild laughter.

To whoever you are, Thanks. You made my night. And then some.
11:12 pm