I recently returned to my hometown of Chatham, Ontario to attend a wedding. Let me describe Chatham. Unemployment, drug use and petty crime are rampant, as is domestic abuse and having half a dozen children all with different fathers. Or mothers.
It has also been described as a mystical land where men's shirts disintegrate and women's birth control is rendered ineffective.
I'm told that men can feel the fabric of their shirts starting to thin upon entering the city limits. Not being a man, I cannot confirm this. I can confirm, however, that at some point in our dubious history it must have been deemed unnecessary for men to wear shirts in public unless visiting an establishment enforcing the "no shirt, no shoes, no service" rule, because full frontal male nudity is everywhere.*
I had my first sighting immediately upon arrival, when I spotted a group of ten or twelve people milling about a front lawn, several topless men included. There were also four cruisers in the vicinity, two parked on the lawn and two on the street. Oh, homecoming. Not far down the street, I witnessed another shirtless man riding a bicycle much too small for him. Probably stolen. Probably from his own son.
My next encounter was later that night shortly after last call, when I looked across the bar to see some guy removing his shirt. Apparently once service is no longer offered, wearing a shirt is no longer necessary. There was at least one shirtless man after the bar shut down at the wedding as well.
The phenomenon of women's birth control rendered ineffective is definitely true. There are accidents growing up all over town. Maybe the same forces that disintegrate the fabric of men's shirts also damage latex. Maybe something in the water counteracts hormone-based contraceptives. Or maybe the high birth rate has something to do with the local belief that a man drinking lots of Mountain Dew before sex is an effective spermicide. Which doesn't exactly have anything to do with women’s birth control, but still. I'm not making that up.
At any rate, virtually every female of childbearing age that I came across the weekend of the wedding was pregnant, lugging around at least one small child, or both. I took a huge risk four or five times. I'm happy to report that that particular bullet was successfully dodged.
I have promised not to say anything specifically about the wedding in order to protect innocent parties. I will say two things, however. First, it's not as though I'm the kind of girl who has devoted any time to planning her dream wedding, but all the same, I don't think my special day would include a reception hall bathroom that comes complete with a vending machine selling perfume, tampons, condoms and textured cock rings for a dollar each. Second, Sara asked that at the reception I drink screwdrivers and rye and gingers because those are the preferred drinks of Chatham girls when they're trying to be classy. Maybe it has something to do with my upbringing, but I took to the drinks like a Chatham girl takes to unplanned pregnancy. I strangely have no misadventures or anything embarrassing to myself to relate. I did experience some middle of the night nausea, but I'm sure it was due to the fact that I filled up on potatoes and cake at dinner because there were no vegetarian options available. The next day, the parents of my date mentioned that I seemed like a sweet girl who could sure drink a lot. Or just drinks a lot. I wasn't entirely clear. Either way, I don't think it was meant as a criticism. Just a comment.
*I suppose that this could be the result of the muggy climate, as Chatham is literally a hole in the earth with little air circulation. Seriously. I think it might be below sea level. There must be more to it than that, though, because even in winter, shirtlessness is not uncommon.
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