“That Time I…” posts are true stories that am I retiring from my social repertoire. To honour them, I am committing them to text for the first time. Read stories about sound torture, abortion, and the infamous Tragic Hand Button.
My friend Matt quietly sipped his coffee while I talked about my character-building adventures in Europe. I told him about walking through St. Peter’s just after the death of John Paul. I told him about the Lutheran Bible I bought in Berlin and the perpetual bookfair that takes place on the site where Nazis burned them. I also told him about an idea I had, but didn’t follow though on, to have a freckle tattooed on my arm. His response to all of that was, “Let’s do it right now. My friend works in a tattoo parlour on Yonge Street.”