A Teamster gets the Philosopher Stoned

Once upon a time, I got in an argument at a dive bar with the loudest teamster within a 100 mile radius of Detroit.

And honestly, it's one of my greatest moments as a blue collar philosopher.

The debate raged on about the collective bargaining power of blue collar trades people, and how going on strike was the best tool to get results. I disagreed--mostly because I had a hankering for a good fight that night. At that time, I worked at the (then) largest Home Depot warehouse in the good ole USA, and Home Depot was union free.

Bar-stool bystanders spectated with eyes wide open, as spit and curse words flew. By the 30 minute mark of raised voices and friends attempting to intervene, I realized I had clearly won. Jimmy was just never one to quietly surrender; he was killing time and entertaining the drunken masses.

Eventually, after he realized I could be louder and more perseverant than even him, he asked if I wanted to smoke a joint instead of fighting about something neither of us had any real control over.

Obviously I said yes. I did want to smoke--and those moments between each inhale and exhale--became some of the most transformative moments of my 20's.

As we sat beneath a ramshackle lean-to behind the bar, with snowflakes swirling and the wind nipping at our uncovered faces, my heart defrosted a little bit. It was close to Christmas too, so the red and green lights and "Santa Baby" playing on the raspy speakers loosened up my clenched up asshole.

For so long, I had been so firm in my need to be right--in my desire to always win a fight--I had also forgotten how to truly listen. As we passed the J and lamented about the woes of the working class, I felt a bit like a born again Grinch.

"And what happened, then? Well, in Whoville they say – that the Grinch's small heart grew three sizes that day."

 "It's not about our differences, its about our common ground," I said, feeling rather philosophical from the situation and the herbal inebriation.

"Yeah, exactly. They want us to think we are so different, so we fight like this. But the real enemy is the big guy hiding behind the fucking curtain. That wizard of Oz motherfucker, he's the real problem."

"Right, right, that guy, "The Man", he's a motherfucker," I replied.

As my mind burst open, and my insides softened, I realized that all of us, we just want to be happy. We just want a warm bed, and time with the people we love, and enough food in our bellies. It's simple really. But everything I had in life I had fought for, and often it was a bloody battle at that. My desperate need to win a fight was a remnant, a lingering bit of Valkyrie from my years of protecting myself and my siblings from chaotic life situations. 

The blunt ran out too quickly, and my (then) boyfriend finally found us; 3 shot glasses held between his massive mechanic's hands.

"Y'all fuck and make up, or what?" He asked with a Marlboro Red handing from his lip. He handed us the shot glasses with too little salt on the rim.

I met his brown eyes with mine. "You jealous? I know you and Jimmy spend a lot of time alone without me, don't want to get in the middle of anything." 

"I'd let you get in the middle of us," Jimmy punched my shoulder and flashed my boyfriend with a shit-eating grin. 

"You're high as fuck, so why don't you both fuck off," the boyfriend said to me and then to Jimmy. I wanted to say something else witty, but my spirit was too light for it, my mind melting like the snowflakes that dotted my bare hands.

"I think we worked it out alright," Jimmy said, matter-of-factually, his voice momentarily less ornery and more stoic, as he took his shot. He licked the rim and made too much eye contact with me. "Wish I had more weed though."

I took the shot and quickly licked the meager salt. As my mind sloshed away, I felt that in that strange and quite unsober moment, that maybe, just maybe, the world could someday heal. That even those of us that have such vastly different ideologies, we might be able to find a way to coexist. Even if its messy, and trashy, and unexpectedly beautiful at times, like a quite December snow, with a whiff of puff-puff-dragon lingering in the air while Maria Carey reminded me, once again, all she wanted for Christmas was me.

As I recall this event, nearly 10 years later, I still firmly believe we can do just that--we can come together to instigate change.

But maybe we need to be a little less serious about it, maybe, we all need to imbibe Mother Nature's mind relaxants, and remind ourselves that all of us need clean air, fresh water, stable shelter, enough food and love. That all the differences that lie beyond that, that perhaps they aren't as big as we think they are.

If there's something worth fighting for--it's worth fighting to make sure we all have access to a life worth living.