Christian the Englishman.

Now, I would love to be posting something about how I intend to change the world, one roll of wallpaper at a time, like one of my closest friends recently has. However, as I am a selfish westerner, destined to burn in hell (or at least at the stake of the inquisition) for my crimes against the noble cause, I am not. Instead, I would like to introduce you to the man I met. The reason I pulled my globally-minded friend into this is simple: I wish she was there to meet him. He would have had the Lunatic shaking with anger right in her "do-goody" two-shoes.

Okay some context is in order:

I'm waiting for the bus when "three men in their mid-twenties" (as security put it) came sprinting out of the bar, the one with the baggy white pants gangsterly strewn about his knees (come on, white pants != gangster) yelled "you're an idiot" to the one in front with the oh-so-stereotypical black hoodie. Y'know I lied about the whole sprinting thing, but forgive me, it made for a more engaging hook than the truth, "walking and jogging intermittently", and it gave me an excuse to write this sentence explaining the fallacy which should, at the very least, inspire a that-wasn't-funny-but-I'll-smile-to-be-polite.... on the inside? Anyways, the point is that these three young men were not running away with the kind of urgency that one would if they had just done something that would warrant the soon-to-arrive onslaught of law-enforcement. It must have been a slow night here in Victoria, because no less than ten law enforcement vehicles soon arrived, two of which parked, facing the wrong direction, in a very narrow one-lane strip before continuing the chase on foot. The first driver to come upon the blockade did what any man would (see what I did there? no? you will) and drove through the adjacent parking lot before passing the opening into said lot. The next driver, a blonde female (My goodness this is sounding like a non-funny joke, but its completely legit, I assure you) (My goodness I love parenthesis) , drives within 40 feet of the cruisers, sits for about 3 minutes, finally breaks her focus from the unmanned cars, then misinterprets our (there was about three of us at this point) gestures to reverse and go through the parking lot, as her dominant (teehee?) counterpart did. Instead, she reverses to the opening for the parking lot and pulls a U-turn, drives the wrong way down the street for a spell, then merges back onto ring road, to find another exit. Maybe she didn't see the parking lot, I don't know.

OKAY !!!!!! TIME FOR THE BIG ENTRANCE!!!!

Christian of Swindle (all Englishmen are named after their birthplaces) comes up and plants his feet firmly beside me. And I do mean firmly, for the man had to have been at least 250, not that weight matters as much as gender apparently does, but this will become important shortly. Another female drives up, sees the parked cruisers with, like her sister sits about 40 feet away, her gaze fixed on the phantom policemen. The difference being that she proceeded to speed up to about 3 feet away from the cruisers and shine her highbeams in the front windows. Failing to see, even with the light of God shining inside, that there was nobody there, she gets out of her car and, with sassy palm-up hands at shoulder level, begins to lay into the unsuspecting leather interior. Finally, realizing her folly she goes back to her car and sits, until yet another police car comes. She gets out and starts laying into him until he explains to her that he will not give her a ticket for reversing the 80 feet to go through the parking lot. She then does so, bouncing her wheel and fender walls off her curb-and-island confines. This "Schewpid Betch" proved to be the catalyst I needed to start a conversation with the hulking fellow beside me. I figured, a simple "What is she dooooooing?" would suffice. Christian then, spoke of how, no matter how far he goes, woman driver's suck (his words, not mine). Furthermore, women the world over, are eejeeots. I chuckled along, feeling superior. "The funniest part is that I'm in Woman's Studies," he then sprung on me, which brought forth a genuine guffaw. He then excused himself from the conversation to go ask some attractive, albeit drunk, girls for the time. He had seen me check my phone not three minutes before. This is when the mention of his weight bears meaning. Within minutes he had them both wrapped around his finger.This is when I realized three things:

1. Looks don't matter if you're the man.
2. Girls don't need to be drunk if you're the man. I have full faith that Christian could have pulled that at 11 in the morning.
3. Christian is the man.

Turns out the girls went to my high school and recognized me, though I could not recollect seeing them. And we chatted till the bus came. As we were climbing aboard I let the man know that "that was [effing] magical." He proceeded to tell me of his, now apparent, motivation for taking Women's Studies here in Canada; the man loved the ladies (Women's Studies in Victoria=plenty of fish in a cup full of water) and, let's face it, snaggletooth is a much less common racial trait among those in the colonies. When we were on the bus the man asked me what I was studying. He approved of my "real classes" (again, his words this time) and told me how he has his Masters in Physics from an English University and is here, literally, only for the women because let's face it "snaggletooth is a much less common racial trait among those in the colonies." (you guessed it, his words)


This man is my hero.
I hope you read all of that because I have to wake up in less than 6 hours because I wrote it.

-Ethan