On Wednesday nights when Rachelle\u2019s playing hockey, I often go to a bar for a couple of hours. I suppose I like utilitarian places, bars that offer little more than booze, and where I go is unexceptional and unromantic, a place with sports on the TV\u2019s and framed photographs of rock stars and other cultural icons on the wall.<\/p>\n

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Middle-aged men, guys getting off work and who are still in their FedEx or Hydro uniforms go there. Each night, as part of a promotion, the bar host\u2019s a card came which takes place at the back on one of those poker tables you can buy at Canadian Tire. The other night it was Texas Hold \u2018Em they were playing, and although it\u2019s a cashless game, since it\u2019s poker, people felt heavily invested.<\/p>\n

As I was sitting at the bar drifting through the sports section, a fight erupted at the back of the bar. It was extraordinary how quickly rage, explosive rage, swept in and over the table. Men, something now ignited within, had pushed back their chairs and were standing. Screaming and swearing, they waved their arms about and stiffened into fighting posture, fists clenched. A woman, who seemed to be at the centre of it all, had a voice that was a black, untranslatable hiss, more the unearthly vocalizations of possession than language. She threw a glass against the wall, her long hair waving in fury, as the men shouted. It seemed the very manifestation of mental illness, that from the collective interiors of these people, a dark, stormy cloud of violence had been summoned.<\/p>\n

But the thing that struck me the most was how quickly it all passed, and how everybody seemed to enjoy it. It had been fun for them. What, I wonder, does that say about us? On a frigid, lonely night in February a group of strangers go out looking for something. They find one another at a card table in a bar, and what they needed was this, to wake up and experience that jolt of electricity spiking through their bodies, so that for a moment each one of them was alive in the streaming arteries, \u00a0heroes on a battlefield, the lion\u2019s roar that answered back to the night.<\/p>\n

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