VIDEO LIGHT // An Urban Toronto Tale

VIDEO LIGHT // Chapter One

"You're just talking shit 'cause you miss Nicola," I said to my boy. His wife of two years had gone to New Jersey for the weekend with her sister, and he had been in a funky mood. "This is the first Caribana I've heard you complain so much."

"Just something to think about, man. We gotta change up the routine a bit," he concluded, nodding his head to the new Jah Cure tune that his cousin was playing while chatting on the mic.

"Well, we're not forty yet, bredren. Ten years to go, and then we'll start playing cricket in the park Caribana weekend. That what you want to do?" I teased, bumping his arm as I laughed to myself. Mike had to chuckle, and we left it at that.

Somehow we moved far back enough that the girls were in front of us dancing, and needless to say the rest of my night was priceless. The vibes were nice, Delia was moving and shaking, I was on my fourth beer—to Mike's surprise—and the crowd was live. As usual, the Solder's Ball was the hottest dancehall event of the weekend and the later it got, more people crammed into the cloudy banquet hall. Only minutes after the video camera man from TeeDotVibes walked to our side of the room, his light was shining in Delia's direction, documenting her every move. She didn't even acknowledge his presence, but continued to dance; the other females in the club continuously tried to upstage her, but even if he left to capture other parts of the dance, the spotlight always ended up back on Delia. She was the unofficial star of the website, and the hottest video clips from any big event always featured Miss Chinn working it out.

Just before two, I couldn't even breathe, let alone move. The hall capacity was probably three times the legal limit, the music was so nice that people couldn't stop singing and dancing, the walls and floor were damp with humidity, and the smoke levels were ridiculous. All of that, plus the liquor, plus the limited ventilation was making me light-headed. Even Mike was in a zone, enjoying the music, so I told him I'd be back in a minute, planning to grab a bottle of water from the bar.

After a quick stop in the washroom, I looked at the crowd between me and the bar, and decided that I couldn't handle the wait as everyone scrambled for their last drinks before the bar locked off. Instead, I stumbled my way to the front door to attempt to get some fresh air. The bouncer let me through, and I walked along the wall, passed a crowd of cigarette smokers, and sat down on a ledge bordering the parking lot. Two police officers lingered nearby.

I was so hot and exhausted I didn't even think twice before taking off my long black t-shirt, revealing my black marina. I draped the shirt around my shoulder, and tried to catch my breath and clear my head.

I don't know how long I had my eyes closed, but when I looked up I saw Delia pass me on the way to the parking lot, alone. With my head still down, I carefully watched as she opened the passenger side door to a black Pathfinder, bent down to pick something up, and then made her way back to the club, swinging the car keys on her finger as she strolled.

"Yo, I think you're beautiful," I said to her when she was just a few feet away from me, ready to re-enter the club. Delia stopped walking, put her hand on her hip and smiled at me.

"Excuse me?" she said. I was never usually this bold, and I had no idea what to say next. So I just repeated myself.

"I said, I think you're beautiful," I replied politely. "Extremely."

"I think you're drunk," she said to me, nodding at the shirt on my shoulder, and stating the obvious. But she still didn't move.

"I am. But I know what I'm talking about. Trust me."

"Well, thank you. You're not going back inside?" she asked, pulling her ponytail from her back, and bringing it across her right shoulder.

"I don't know, girl. It's hot in there," I said to her, feeling my heart thump in my throat. "I might need you to carry me back in."