I return again to the fall of '99. I suppose the reason I dwell upon this point in my history is because this was the beginning of the end of innocence for me. But this time I look deeper for the seeds of that which came even before this time and affects me still.

This point in time as I've mentioned before was the only time in my life when drinking was purely an innocent enjoyment and not a crutch or escape. We used to go to the Spoke, a bar on the UWO campus. There we'd always get into mischief, like stealing glasses, signs etc. We'd play an electronic trivia game, eat free popcorn, drink endless rounds of beer, and sometimes write messages to certain chick bands (Hi I'm Todd the male feminist). We were rowdy, as young lads are wont to be. One time Neil and Chalmers were miffed with each other. Neil put salt in Chalmers' beer and tried to set Chalmers' (long) goatee on fire.

The night I choose to focus on for this story was just another night at the Spoke, possibly the same night as the above tensions between Neil and Chalmers. I was out of money and Neil wanted to blow off steam so we decided to walk home. I was inebriated to point where I didn't care if I had to walk 100m or a 100km. My inhibitions were quieted by the copious amount of beer I had consumed. As we got closer to our neighbourhood, a group of ne'er-do-wells called out "Look at the fags!" Something inside me snapped. I had been bullied alot as a kid, and to this day I still haven't dealt with my anger. But being almost totally inhibited, I felt like punishing some punks for the crime of existing. I flipped them the bird, and moved to go after them. Neil put a hand on my shoulder and said "No, man. It's not going to be worth it." I came to my senses and walked the rest of the way home. Part of me really wanted to make them hurt and I guess I still do. I've decided to get help dealing with this internalized anger because of this realization.