What's up people? Stefano Saint-Mathieu here. Technically, I'm supposed to leave work around seven in the morning but I almost never do. The bus heading to Nepean stops by the Bank Street building where I work overnight security around six thirty five, and I try my best to catch it. Otherwise I'd have to wait for the next one at six forty five, and in the freezing core of downtown Ottawa, that sucks. The Ontario winter is no joke. So I always make a run for it when I see the bus.
I absolutely hate working security downtown, too many government worker type of bozos with their heads up their asses in the building where I work. Seriously, if you're a young black man walking around the Canadian capital, people stare at you a lot, even though Ottawa has sizeable populations of African, Arab and Asian immigrants. Diversity is here to stay but not everyone is happy about it.
Working in an office building full of uptight, smug white folks can be taxing on the body and the mind. The fact that half of my fellow security guards are bitter, disgruntled and rude old white guys doesn't make my life any easier. I swear, there are two Canada instead of one. What do I mean by that? Please let me clarify.
On the one side you've got diverse Canada, full of Africans, Arabs, Asians, Aboriginals and other visible minorities, and we're a young, fast-breeding and energetic group, and on the other hand you've got old-school or traditional Canada which is old, white, and dull. The two are starting to clash, man. I see it at work all the time.
You've got a lot of Somali guys, Haitian guys and Arab guys working security at office buildings and government buildings in downtown Ottawa while attending local colleges and universities, and they're usually being supervised by old white guys who are close to retirement age. The two groups don't get along at all. Makes our workplaces a minefield. Any wonder I hate my job?
That morning, I caught the OC Transpo bus by a hair and I saw a lot of unfamiliar faces. You get used to your morning commute and certain faces become familiar, whether you like it or not. I sat in the first row behind the seats reserved for old people, pregnant women, or what-have-you, and briefly skimmed through the novel I picked up at the campus library. The Broker by John Grisham, the author whose novels inspired me to aspire to go to law school, back when I just a snot-nosed brat from the Caribbean freshly arrived in Canada.
The nearly six feet tall, Hijab-wearing, brown-skinned Somali lady with the thick ass sat down in the row opposite mine definitely raised my temperature on that frosty Wednesday morning in mid-February, let me tell you. I've always had a thing for mature Somali women, especially the conservatively attired ones. Blame that on Fatouma, a Somali lady I met a few years back. We became friends, and even flirted some, though not much came of it.
I'm of Haitian descent, and a Catholic, those factors make meeting Somali women kind of hard since they're pretty much all Muslim and tend to stick with guys from their faith and culture. Oh, well, a guy can dream, can't he? I kept reading my book, and from time to time, I checked out the Somali MILF. I'm twenty seven years old, you'd think I'd stop using frat guy terminologies but nope, growing older doesn't change how I feel about ladies of a certain age. My favorite porn site of all time is The MILF Hunter, it's packed full of videos of sexy mature ladies, and I've been watching it since my high school days.
I noticed that the tall Somali MILF was reading a small booklet with a green cover and some Arabic lettering on its inner pages. The cover read Fortress Of The Muslim, and I guessed it to be some kind of religious book. Not the Koran, mind you, but something containing Islamic religious texts. That's cool, I guess. I'm all for respecting people's right to practice their religion.
The Somali lady closed her eyes and repeated some words to herself, and in that moment, my heart skipped a beat. Whether it's because of the way her Hijab framed her lovely brown face, or the sincerity I saw as she prayed ( or whatever ) with her eyes closed, I don't know, but the Somali MILF had this brother mesmerized. Seriously, I found her completely and utterly beautiful, and I say this as respectfully as I can.
The bus rolled on, and soon we reached the university campus. I happen to attend this university, and I'm close to getting my criminology degree. I didn't qualify for OSAP so I've got to pay my own way. Canada's capital university is a lovely institution full of bright people, but it's definitely not cheap. The tall Somali lady put her book into her bag, rubbed her hands together, donned her gloves and then got up. My eyes followed her as she made her way to the central building, and disappeared inside.
I smiled to myself as the bus drove on, and then I got off a few stops after the university campus. I got home at seven thirty that morning, and went straight to bed after kicking off my boots. Seriously, I just tossed off my security coat and collapsed in bed, still wearing my uniform shirt and dark pants. Yup, I'm a tired black man, folks. I woke up around two o'clock, and then showered and got ready to return downtown.
You see, I've got the worst schedule ever when it comes to my security job. On Mondays, I work from three in the afternoon till eleven. I come in Tuesday night at eleven and finish at seven in the morning on Wednesday. I come back at three on Wednesday afternoon and finish at seven in the afternoon ( a short, crappy shift ) and then return Thursday night at eleven to finish at seven on Friday morning.
