Chapter Eight � Transplanted

Half a nation away, the land of Alberta beckoned me with the promise of good paying jobs, and a brand new reality from anything I had previously been accustomed to. I arrived on the doorstep of my friend Shawn after not seeing each other for almost ten years. We had been very good friends before, as we had spent of our lives together in a heavy metal band, probably one of the happiest times of my early twenty-somethings. Now, we re-united after a long absence as he introduced me to a city I had only seen in Geography textbooks. He lived close to the Whyte Avenue district of Edmonton, a very artsy and youthful tavern and shopping district that was always vibrant. Not even three days after my arrival, I was truly introduced to the city after witnessing no less than an estimated thirty thousand people crammed into busy street intersection in celebration of the Edmonton Oilers (the city’s National Hockey League team) complete the first round of playoffs. It showed me how big of a city I was in, and, more importantly how small of a place I had come from. I will never forget it.

            I spent the first six months staying with Shawn, sleeping on a mattress in what had once been a semi-detached area that had acted as a dining room. With a few sheets up in doorways, it had been converted into a bedroom for me. Humble as it sounds, these were my beginnings in the Oil City. I easily found work, as Alberta was going through an oil boom, similar to the gold rush of the late 1800’s in many parts of Western North America. The lure of steady jobs, with excellent pay and benefits had attracted many others like me, and the city was exploding with new people. There was work everywhere, and all at good pay, from the men that worked in the oilfields to the north to the burger-flippers at their McJobs, all were hiring and all at above-average wages and worker benefits. This was, and still is, an expensive to live in at times, but one can earn their way easily if they look for the opportunity. As well, I will admit there is a better standard of living out here, so you may pay more, but you often get more too.  I went through a few different jobs until getting into shop screen printing t-shirts and other garments, which is another love of mine and source of earning a living for me.

            After working for about six months, I eventually saved up enough money to get my own apartment, as I had decided by then that I had no intention of returning to my hometown. I had become convinced that where I had come from could no longer offer me any opportunities of any kind, and I became bitter about the place I had come from, and resented wasting so many years there when there was a whole new world that existed beyond it that offered limitless fortunes to be had and found and earned. I rented the basement suite of a house of a former co-worker in a decent part of town, and moved on New Year’s Eve. I spent that evening alone, as I had few friends outside of co-workers in such a big anonymous metropolis, but was happy as I seen this as a new beginning.

            The basement suite was actually a two-bedroom, and was quite roomy. It was rather large and bright for being situated in a basement, and I had more than enough room to spare. I had a spare bedroom available for guest or any visitors from my hometown that had made vague promises to eventually make a trip to Alberta to see me. It was ideally located on a rather quiet dead-end street, very close to a shopping centre and many other amenities. Also, the place was very conveniently located near many bus routes, so I had much access to different parts of the city, and was closest to Whyte Avenue, that I viewed as an exciting and vibrant part of town, full of University types, alternative freaks, and fashionistas. Yet, it was not so close that the late-night rowdiness of the bars letting out did not affect my sleep on weekday evenings, as I would have to wake up early for work. I didn’t have that luxury of undisturbed slumber while staying with my friend nearer to Whyte Avenue, especially during the hockey playoff season or any summertime long weekend. It sucks to be grown up and responsible!

There was also an odd-shaped room that was close the common area of the suite, located centrally in the apartment closest to the main entrance stairwell. I began to envision many uses for this room, and, eventually, saved up some money and began to purchase tattooing equipment and furnishings for this room. I planned to return to tattooing, but in the privacy of my home, as opposed to a studio. I felt that in this way I would ease myself into Edmonton’s tattoo scene, hopefully, after getting some ink out there on the streets. And since I would be accomplishing this with little financial overhead, I could easily make enough money to continue to invest in equipment and supplies. I found a small group of clients through friends and friends of friends, and took many photographs of my work. I would often take these photographs and post them to various social networking websites on the internet, so that others would have an easy reference to my tattoos at any time, and this provided a varying degree of success.

Things were going well for me in Edmonton. I had a good day job, and was doing some tattooing on the side. I was making money, investing in myself, and had a nice place to live. My finances were stable, and my life was upgraded from what I had known before; from barely scraping by with dead-end jobs in rust-belt town with little to do, I was now in a big and growing city with a good job and stable finances. I was moving up and making it. I had been in Edmonton for about a year, and still felt as though I were a tourist with a brand new city to explore before me. Life was good and I was satisfied with life, but the honeymoon would soon wear off.