There are few things in life worth celebrating quite like buying a house, selling a house, and deciding to do both within the same general period of your existence. So, when I found myself in Edmonton, meeting up with Kiana to celebrate her real estate achievements, it seemed only appropriate to find somewhere to sit, drink, eat, and discuss the finer details of adulting.
I met Kiana through a mutual friend a few years ago and make an effort to see people whenever I'm in the city, despite her busy schedule as a Territory Manager for ZO Skin Health. I'm hoping some of that anti-aging magic is transferable, because the way I'm planning to abuse my body tonight, I'll need professional-grade intervention to look my age tomorrow.
But first, a drink.
I arrived at JOEY South Common without a reservation and was seated in the lounge surprisingly quickly. The gentleman who greeted me was friendly enough, although he seemed convinced I was accompanied by an invisible entourage. He kept addressing me as though the rest of my party were already present, which was an interesting way to begin an afternoon. Either he knew something I didn't, or Edmonton had finally started providing complimentary imaginary friends with its restaurant seating.
While waiting for Kiana, I ordered a Classic Whiskey Sour. Mostly because I needed something to repress the feelings brought on by seeing snow fall offensively early in the year. Mother Nature, if you're reading this, nobody asked for your seasonal bullshit.
Fortunately, the Whiskey Sour was an absolute winner. Finally, a version that understands the assignment. The lemon and whiskey were properly balanced, neither fighting for dominance nor leaving me wondering whether I'd accidentally ordered a glass of sour mix. The presentation was lovely, too. Easy drinking, well executed, and exactly what I wanted to take the edge off the impending winter apocalypse.
Kiana arrived, and we got down to business.
We spent some time discussing her house and the extra features she's incorporated into the build. I won't spoil the details, but if boujee and bitchin' had a baby, it sounds like this house would be the result. It's genuinely awesome watching people reach their goals, enjoy the fruits of their labour, and immediately start eyeing up the next mountain to climb. Some people buy a house and settle into it. Others treat real estate like a particularly expensive game of Monopoly.
Naturally, we needed another drink.
The Spicy Strawberry Margarita was next, and I'll admit I approached it with some reservations. Strawberry cocktails have a nasty habit of tasting like someone melted down a strawberry-flavoured gummy bear and poured tequila into the resulting chemical disaster. This, thankfully, was not that.
The strawberry flavour tasted genuine, and the spice-to-sweetness ratio was right where it needed to be. Enough sweetness to make it approachable, enough heat to keep things interesting. A very enjoyable cocktail, and a pleasant reminder that strawberry drinks don't have to taste like a child's idea of a margarita.
By approximately 2:50 p.m., we decided it was time to start making some financially responsible decisions. We let our server know we were waiting for happy hour before ordering another round. Priorities, people. I'm all for spending money, but with Honi Honi on the evening's destination list, there were far more questionable decisions still to come. No sense blowing the budget before the real damage began.
Once happy hour rolled around, we both settled on the Supernova Vodka Sodas. A straightforward choice, but I wasn't looking for anything overly complicated at this point. I had plenty of afternoon left, and the evening's itinerary was already threatening my future well-being.
We also needed something to eat. Preferably something substantial enough to convince ourselves we were being responsible, without committing to an entire meal.
The Sushi Cone, featuring tempura prawn, avocado, spicy mayo, and tobiko, was a tasty little snack. Nothing particularly complicated, but it delivered exactly what I wanted. A combination of textures and flavours that worked well together, and something easy to pick away at while discussing houses, life, and whatever other nonsense had accumulated since our last visit.
Then came the Crispy Mashed Potato Spring Rolls.
These were delicious. If you're looking for something to nibble on without committing to a full meal, these are absolutely worth ordering. Crispy on the outside, satisfying on the inside, and dangerously easy to keep eating. They're not actually listed on the official printed menu, but given their popularity, I'd imagine most locations would be happy to make them without much fuss.
Which raises an important question: why are the good things always hiding in the shadows? Put them on the damn menu. Let the people know.
Now, while we were busy enjoying our food, something considerably more interesting was developing in the corner of the lounge. Interesting might not be the right word. Disturbing? Confusing? Something that made me briefly question whether I'd consumed significantly more alcohol than I actually had?
And this is where, in my head, David Attenborough's voice takes over. The sort of narration you'd expect to hear while watching a nature documentary at two in the morning, wondering how you ended up learning about the mating habits of some obscure species of bird.
Except this particular wildlife documentary takes place in the lounge at JOEY South Common.
In my mind, Hans Zimmer is already composing the score. A deep, foreboding drone begins somewhere beneath the conversation and clinking glassware. Violins creep in, delicate at first, then increasingly frantic. The music suggests an extraordinary event is unfolding. A rare species has been spotted. An ecosystem is on the brink of collapse. Humanity itself may be facing an irreversible turning point.
Meanwhile, in the corner, two people are kissing.
The orchestra builds. The strings are practically screaming. A choir might as well be warming up backstage. Every second that passes feels monumental, each note begging the question: Will they ever come up for air?
Kiana and I sit frozen, watching this bizarre courtship ritual unfold while my imaginary production budget spirals out of control.
And over it all, calm as ever, David Attenborough begins his narration.
Here, in the relative comfort of their natural habitat, we find two members of the human species engaging in what appears to be a routine display of affection.
The first subject leans forward.
Their lips meet.
And remain together.
Ordinarily, this exchange lasts only a few seconds. A brief reassurance of mutual interest before both individuals return to foraging, socialising, or checking their mobile devices.
But these subjects are different.
For ninety seconds, they remain locked together. Eyes open. Bodies still. Neither showing the slightest indication of ending the encounter.
A minute and a half.
I've seen mashed potatoes hold their shape for less time.
Notice the eyes. Both subjects remain alert to their surroundings, yet neither appears to recognise that their behaviour has attracted the attention of several nearby members of the species.
Kiana and I exchange glances. At the neighbouring table, more observers appear to have noticed the unusual activity.
The entire habitat has fallen into a state of quiet confusion.
In the wild, such prolonged contact may serve to reinforce a social bond. Or it may simply indicate that neither individual is entirely certain how to disengage without making the situation awkward.
Eventually, the subjects separate.
We breathe a collective sigh of relief.
The ritual, it seems, has concluded.
But nature, as we know, is rarely finished when we think it is.
The female turns towards a second male.
And begins again.
Fascinating.
What we initially mistook for an isolated display of affection now appears to be part of a broader social arrangement. Multiple partners. Extended contact. An apparent disregard for the presence of other members of the habitat.
The precise rules governing this behaviour remain unknown to us.
Frankly, we're not sure we want to know.
Swingers in the corner at 2:30 in the afternoon. Welcome to Edmonton, where the weather is unpredictable, the housing market is expensive, and the lounge comes with complimentary live-action relationship mysteries.
Of course, we must remember that every species has its own courtship rituals. What appears bizarre to the outside observer may be perfectly ordinary within the group.
And who are we to judge?
Still, even the most dedicated wildlife documentarian knows when to turn the camera away.
Particularly when the surrounding habitat contains paying customers who came to enjoy a cocktail and a plate of Crispy Mashed Potato Spring Rolls, not an uninterrupted study of human mating behaviour.
And so, we leave our subjects to their business, return our attention to the snacks, and allow nature to take its course.
I’m not sure this is what David meant when he said, “We must rewild the world.”
Eventually, it was time to settle up and move along. Easier said than done, apparently.
We waited approximately fifteen minutes for our server to return so we could pay the bill. Fifteen minutes isn't an eternity, but when you're ready to leave and can see your server hanging around the bar, it starts feeling considerably longer. The service had been reasonable up to that point, which made the sudden disappearance particularly irritating.
Then there was the temperature. Someone had opened all the windows connecting the lounge to the patio before turning on the outdoor heaters, leaving us reaching for our jackets as Edmonton's autumn weather made itself comfortable indoors. I'd already seen snow that day. I really didn't need to experience the sequel.
Neither issue was a deal-breaker, but both were avoidable.
Ultimately, JOEY South Common gave us a good spot to catch up, celebrate Kiana's accomplishments, and enjoy some genuinely good cocktails and snacks. The Whiskey Sour was a standout, the Spicy Strawberry Margarita won me over, and those Crispy Mashed Potato Spring Rolls deserve to be on the actual menu.
As for the rest of the afternoon, well, I came for a catch-up over cocktails and left with a story that would make a nature documentary producer raise an eyebrow.
Congratulations to Kiana on the next chapter. May the house sell, the next goal be even more ridiculous, and my anti-aging efforts stand a fighting chance against whatever Honi Honi has in store for me.