MY ANNIVERSARY-- WITH MY OTHER WIFE

In 1985, on the Friday of Thanksgiving Weekend, I left my high school, caught the bus downtown and boarded a Greyhound Bus to Red Deer, Alberta.

I was sixteen, and so TOTALLY adult because I had arranged a trip out of town all on my own, found my own transportation and arranged my own accomodation with a group of friends.

I was the CUTTING EDGE of independent. AW yeah.

I was even armed with snacks and cans of Root Beer from my cafeteria job at the school. Perks, kids.

Eighteen years ago today. WOW.

The event was NONCon-- the Albera Regional Science Fiction Convention. That magic time of yesteryear when going to a sci-fi con was a Big Deal. Where everyone wandered the halls in costume, where every other room was a fan club's room decorated in "theme", prompting one to visit after con programming shut down for the day; where evening socials and dances and contests made the entire hotel ring merry for three incredible days of fantasy and science fiction devotionals.

And also, where nine people can share one hotel room.

We were all around sixteen, and we were all poor. It's a kind of fun all its own.

And it was in that room of nine people including myself that I met Tony Whalen, aka Agent CK-- ACK for short.

I remember how we met; I heard the strains of Dire Straits' Money for Nothing blaring down the hall as, in through the open door to our room, walked some heavy-metal banger in aviator sunglasses, sprayed-on jeans, hair out to there (in Lionel Richie curls) and black Teen Turf t-shirt, carrying a suitcase, a ghetto blaster (remember when BIGGER was BETTER, kids?) and a wax skull on a black staff.

He was introduced as Steve's Friend Tony, the kind of introduction you get when you're at a party with too many people. All you need to remember is whose friend a guy is, and then you can ask your friend to remind you of his name later.

Within five minutes he had found out that five of us were ElfQuest fans and proudly proclaimed that the skull on his black staff was, in fact, an elf skull. Five of us growled, wolflike, at him-- which shut him up and made me laugh. I didn't think he was a dick-- just dumb. :) And besides, we outnumbered him.

The first night of the con was just rockin'. People to see and things to do. I remember hanging out in the ElfQuest suite which was put on by friends from Yorkton, Saskatchewan. And dancing. And greeting people. And milling about in the lobby. And drinking COPIOUS amounts of Root Beer.

By the end of the evening, Steve's Friend Tony was asking us about ElfQuest and if he could be an elf, too.

Ah, the bliss of sharing the game with the other kids.

Tony became "Quicksilver," (I was "Tempest" and Steve was "Whitefall" and so on) and we had a hell of a time, howling at the moon like wolves and swimming naked in the "clothing-optional" after-hours swimming pool.

It's funny how some friendships just RING immediately with the tolling bell of destiny. I was supposed to leave on Sunday, but by Sunday afternoon Steve's Friend Tony, now just Tony or Quicksilver, was telling me I had to stay over one more night. And I had only budgeted until Sunday; so he and Steve chipped in to "keep me" until Monday, when the three of us went back on the Greyhound together.

Tony would decided to "keep me" many times over our friendship; but it would take to long to tell. Suffice it to say that when one friend has a car and another friend doesn't, the friend WITH the car decides who gets a ride home and who stays over.

"I'm keeping you." How many times did I hear THAT?

Tony and I got into everything together. I was usually the one that went "Look, neat thing neat thing neat thing!" And generally I stayed with it longer than he did; although he was the one that introduced me to Star Trek fandom and, curiously, it was his enrollment into Broadcasting at Mount Royal College that gave me MY start in voice-over work.

(Most of what I've learned in professional voicing, kids, Tony and I did for FUN while he was at college.)

We did everything together for a while; always doin' stuff because he had the apartment and I just invited the gang over all the time. :) Sorry, bro. :) Then, as is inevitable, we went our separate ways with separate lives; always in touch, just not always frequently. It's a part of growing up; doing your own thing.

We got married about five years apart from each other, and were in each other's wedding party. He wore tights for mine and I dyed my hair blond for his. We knew each other's parents well enough to imitate them to each other. We fought-- sometimes over ridiculous things like how to hold a video camera properly (the guy at the video store TOLD ME it goes this way!) and, even when we weren't speaking to each other, somehow always managed to make up.

People thought we were brothers. It was a nose and eyebrows thing. And when we both married redheads, people thought ... well, I don't know what they thought except that it was weird. :)

We finish each other's sentences. We both have the same aptitude for video games and we remember the same music-- although our tastes vary a bit. And we each have a pipeline into the other's brain. I can hum one tiny bit of a tune and then the entire song leaps into Tony's head and won't go away. Same with annoying commercials.

Too, we always joked about how we'd be these old men, Statler and Waldorf-esque, living next door to each other and yelling at the damn kids to get off the lawn. And today, we live seven doors down from each other and can beam laser light from our laser pointers into each other's living rooms.

And today, it will have been eighteen years since the merry madness began. I bought Tony a ring to commemorate the event; it was from Toys "R" Us, and cost me a quarter from a vending machine. It says it all: I love you, in a cheesy, schmaltzy, cartoony way. But it's still a ring, still a symbol. And a great source of giggling.

So here's to you, Tony, my OTHER wife. And I'm thinking we still need to have t-shirts made:

"Yes, I'm married. No, not to HIM." With an arrow pointing at the other guy.

Happy Anniversary, buddy.

Posted by Agent M at October 10, 2003 12:41 PM