My Name Is Jasper

Haifisch

Und der Haifisch, der hat Tränen

Und die laufen vom Gesicht;

Doch der Haifisch lebt im Wasser

So die Tränen sieht man nicht.

In der Tiefe ist es einsam

Und so manche Zähre fliesst

Und so kommt es, dass das Wasser

In den Meeren salzig ist.

Haifisch - Rammstein (40)

"If you are reading this, you have survived your entire life up until this point. You have survived traumas, heartbreak, devastation, the elements, different phases of life, and here you are. You go, mother fucker. You are awesome!"

The anonymous meme sure is fitting. I grin as I swipe to the next 9gag joke.

It's Thursday July 10th 2014. Today I'm turning 30. I woke up around 5:30 a.m. in a hotel room 3400km away from my Toronto home. There's no one surprising me with a breakfast in bed, no songs, no presents, no one. Only the repetitive sound of my alarm clock warning me I have to hurry to the airport.

I was in Calgary for work. And some fun too: the annual Calgary Stampede. Yesterday some colleagues did take me to dinner for my birthday. During the day, I had been hopping from one customer appreciation event to the next one, and in the evening I actually made it to the Stampede Grandstand. Cowboys and cowgirls everywhere, chuck wagons flying around, bucking broncos, beer and tiny doughnuts... YEE-HAW!! Or was it Yahoo? It seems like Calgarians themselves can't reach a decision.

I am tired. Is this 30? Or am I still recovering of the many Stampede parties? 30. 'Getting on Tram 3' they call it back home in Belgium. I'm about to get on plane WS 658. As I devour a piece of Chocolate cake – Happy Birthday to me – my dad gives me a call, congratulating me. He and my mom will visit later in the summer. My seat row is called to board. As I step in line, I check my phone. Many birthday wishes have found their way through a number of social media. Great to see they got the notification. Much more than previous years, as if most people feel I might need a little extra love and support for officially becoming old. I know when I get home Julie will have prepared a fantastic evening for me, and I know many people will show up for drinks tonight, even if it is a week night. It's all fantastic, but as I walk through the jet bridge I can't help but feel lonely.

I have always wanted a job for which I would travel a lot. And as much as I enjoy it, it comes with a certain melancholy. As the crew starts the traditional safety briefing, my mind drifted back to an unforgettable night a few years back.

I was in Bellevue, WA for a Microsoft boot camp. Some 200 people from the same division worldwide were gathered for a full week of training. That night, after all the bars had closed and the street lights were going down, a group of us ended up in someone's hotel room. That someone was my Norwegian friend Remi. When I saw him the next morning he was still recovering. Great guy, good singing voice.

We had plundered the local liquor store, and it wouldn't take long before hotel security had to come up to ask if we could please keep it down. The second time they were less nice. The third time they weren't asking anymore: "Seriously guys we need you to shut up."

It was a colourful crew: Next to the Belgian and the Norwegian there were two Irish, a Canadian, some Swiss, Germans and at least one Ukrainian lady. A few young adults, family men like Remi (he must have emptied all of Bellevue's toy shops to bring his kids gifts) and a couple with international careers who never had time for a family.