Letter to my father

Well where to start Dad... in 6 days it will have been 15 years since you died. Wow. Just wow. Still sucks. So last year I wrote you on March 6th, on March 30th my friend Michael took me and my friend Josh to a midget wrestling event for our birthdays at the old bowling alley on lynhurst that they turned into 8 Seconds. So we get there a few hours early and are killing time talking/eating/drinking and this pretty drunk guy comes up to the table and starts putting our empty bottles in a bucket on the table, immediately he stands out as NOT being staff. The man is dressed very nice, has a rather flashy watch on, is of eastern origin (Indian) and I notice that several feet back is another man that looks perhaps Saudi/Pakistani/maybe Israeli(Polynesian mix) is watching him like a hawk. This man puts his arm around me and starts talking to us at the table. He tells us his name is Ravi and he keeps talking to us, punching me as hard as he can in my upper right arm telling me he loves me and calling me the wrong name.

So this guy keeps hanging out at our table, some girls he knows come over and start talking to my friends, both of my friends are also talking to Derek the guy watching him while Ravi keeps chatting to me and hitting me... we go off together and walk around, eventually find our way back to my table and he says he owns a club and invites us to it. Yeah, right, and I'm a monkey's uncle... so I get out my cellular phone and I can access the internet on it, I do a search with his first name and the name of the club... ok so articles pop up and sure enough there is his photo. "Ravi Chopa owner of 6 Lounge" so we say ok we will meet you there.

We get to the club and there are 3 employees and it is empty. Oh boy, this is not good for a Friday night. We wait for him to show up and hang out with him long into the night. 2 or 3 people come in the entire night. There is this thing called social media now, big websites for it being 'facebook' and 'twitter', they are platforms on websites that allow you to share thoughts/images/whatever with friends and complete strangers. I noticed the club had some and had barely used either, these are book tools for drawing crowds so I mention he needs to use them. He tells me I'm welcome anytime and we leave for the night.

The next weekend Josh and I decide to be brave and go back, thinking we are going to be refused entry at the door. I show up, say my name and we are let right in. Ravi sees me and gets a Cheshire Cat grin and apologizes for hitting me so much the night before (Derek told him) and we are shoulder to shoulder that entire night. I talk to Ravi almost every day (In fact we went several months without missing a day of talking to each other). I'd have to say he's one of my best friends. This year has been full of experiences I never thought I'd have thanks to him. It's been a great year.

Mom's thyroid cancer looks like it's gone, I bought a level action rifle a couple of weeks ago which is neat (haven't fired it yet, big ammo scare right now and it's hard to find), my weight has gone down then back up so I'm still nowhere near where I'd like to be, I got the rotors and pads changed on the truck as well as one of the four balljoints (I have the other 3 but haven't got to it) and I hope to put the truck up and start restoring it within a year... I want to always have the truck.

That's pretty much it dad, talk to you next year and I still miss you!

Your son,
Ryan Carl Mercer.