Chapter 2 - the grad student

The North Saskatchewan River, lying at the bottom of a beautiful majestic valley, runs right through the city of Edmonton. On the south side of the river, Karson Delly sat in his lab in the science building at the University of Alberta. A graduate student, he had been there since 8am. It was now 7pm.

Karson had baby blue eyes and his dirty blond hair was more gray now. The last facial comparison he had heard was to Chandler of Friends. He was somewhat tall, about 6 feet and had an average build. He wasn’t skinny or heavy, however his weight had fluctuated quite a bit over the last few years. About three years ago, he had gone through a minor depression and had dropped down to about 170lbs. A friend had finally been able to help break him out and Karson had rekindled an old weight lifting interest. Within four months, his weight was back to 190lbs and he was bench-pressing 2 ½ plates and bar curling 1 plate.

The weight lifting had died off again, except for some minor stuff, but he was feeling good overall. After getting through high school with an average just high enough to get into university, and then an uneventful first year in the social sciences, he had found his calling in engineering. From that moment, he had excelled and had moved right to the top of his graduating class after four years.

Now working on his Masters in Chemical Engineering, he was continuing on a project that he had started during his fourth year, with the permission and support of Dr. Johns. John’s was a professor at the U of A and a consultant for CHOCAN Oil, one of the largest oil companies in the country that was based out of Calgary, just a few hours south of the city.

He was just about to stick his face back into the microscope that was situated on the table directly to his left when he heard the door to the lab rattle. It was locked so as to not be disturbed and in a lame attempt at avoiding the unavoidable for tonight.

“Karson, open this door right now. I know you’re in there. I know you’ve been in there since this morning. Now get your bag and get out here before I pick this feeble lock and drag you out. I told you last night that tonight was for beer and I’m not taking any excuses this time. Your black molasses will be waiting for you there tomorrow morning, unless of course I can get you so hammered that you’ll want to rip your own head off in the morning. Now hurry up. I’m thirsty and the RATT is waiting for you.’ RATT being a local university bar called the Room At The Top, found on the top floor of the Students Union Building.

Karson smiled to himself as he listened to his good friend Digger rattle the door some more and mumble something about finding women, or women were waiting or something to that effect. If they were waiting, it wasn’t for him or for Digger.

His shyness often got the better of him and his early graying hair didn’t help either. He had had good luck with women in his late teens and early 20’s, but it seemed to get more difficult as he got older. Karson imagined it was probably the same for women. Strange it was so hard. He grabbed his backpack and walked over to the door and unlocked it. Opening it up revealed Digger leaning against the wall in the deserted hallway with an eager smile on his face. “Hey Digger, been waiting long?”

The guy he called Digger was in fact Peter Diggins, making his nickname obvious. He and Karson had met some years ago when they had been thrown together as roommates during their first year at Red Deer College – located exactly halfway between their respective hometowns, Edmonton for Karson and Calgary for Peter. He was short, overweight and had a strong affinity for beer, which explained his prominent Buddha belly. A history major who focused on African history, Digger had turned out to be a good and loyal friend. He could sometimes come across a little rough and perhaps more than a little crude, especially to women when in the company of his good companion beer, however Karson trusted him lock, stock and barrel.

“Just long enough to open these up,” Digger replied as he swung his hands out from behind his back holding a bottle of Big Rock Traditional in each. “Just an appetizer before the main course. Let’s go Kar,” he said as he handed one to Karson. “How’s the molasses tonight?”

“Wet and sticky as ever.”

“Well, let’s see if we can find a couple of women to match that tonight,” laughed Digger. “Or we’ll just have enough beer to compensate.”

They headed down the hall to the stairs and then finally out the front door. After about five minutes, they reached the Students Union Building and the elevator that took them up to the ninth floor. When the doors opened, they were greeted with the sounds of students and their nonacademic rituals.

The bar known as RATT didn’t look much like a bar. More like a cafeteria. Cheaply upholstered chairs surrounded cheap tables and the room held a capacity of about 300 people – although limits were often tested. On each table at least three pitchers of beer could be seen with waiters and waitresses maneuvering around the tables carrying even more for their thirsty clientele. Some local Canadian flavor shot out over the speakers making it impossible to overhear any conversation unless you were sitting right at the table.

Karson and Digger made their way through the throngs of people to the back where some familiar faces were waiting. Seated at two combined tables were four people – Jolene and Shelly, Josh and Jason and three pitchers. The whole gang was there. It was time to drink.