The plane started its’ decent into Toronto over the Great Lakes. Looking out at the vast bodies of water below I couldn’t help but wonder about the depths I’ll soon be plunging into. I had never (in the Biblical sense anyway) lived with anyone before. I would be in unfamiliar territory. Oh shit, oh shit! What am I doing? I’m casting my lot in with a girl who I really didn’t think I would ever see again. I barely knew her except for the brief but exquisite sexual encounter in Morocco. Wading through a thick mixture of optimistic anticipation and terror, I felt paralyzed from the neck up. I was walking blind folded off the end of a diving board trusting there would be water in the pool; a perfect moment for a panic attack. Before I knew it the plane was landing.
Canadian customs proved to be the most grueling I had ever been through. I again assumed that my appearance had something to do with it! I was singled out and taken to a private room for an exhaustive interrogation. My name was crunched by some kind of data system to see if I was a fugitive from the law and on the lam or had a drug conviction. Further background checks proved that I was neither a deserter nor a draft dodger. The Nixon administration considered these two offences as tantamount to treason and applied extreme pressure on the Canadian government to thwart the exodus of future fodder for the Vietnam debacle. After an intense grilling about possible affiliations with terrorist organizations or other anti-American groups such as the Weathermen they had no incriminating evidence to deny passage into Canada. I was set free! Riding up in the elevator to the waiting area I felt my heart pounding like a Taiko drum. Oh Hell, this is it, the door opened up and there she was, the Danish Goddess was waiting for me like a beacon of light and love. Our embrace was crushing and convincing. God, it was heavenly to have her in my arms. Yes, all seemed right in the universe.
She pulled me out of the airport, shoved me into a car, whisked us away to our destiny and on the way, Varandi informed me that we would be staying with her parents until we found a place of our own. What? Living with the “Parents”! I could only envision a heap full of awkwardness in this scenario. I’ve always felt uncomfortable around parents because I knew that they knew what my intentions were towards their daughters but this situation was way beyond my sphere of experiences. As I was mentally crunching the possibilities, we pulled into a driveway of a modest upper middle class brick house in the suburbs of Toronto. Gulp! This is it! The dreaded moment has come, time to meet the parents! As we entered the front door her mother and father were standing in the foyer waiting to meet the new attraction in their daughter’s life. It was a perfect “Kodak moment”. I immediately I felt empathy for Sidney Poitier’s character in the movie “Guess Who’s Coming to Dinner”. Her parents were formally pleasant and courteous but I could see the shock and horror in their eyes. I didn’t know how thorough Vrandi was in debriefing her parents about me. They were most likely thinking, “Just what the hell has our precious princess brought home with her”? The first eon of awkward silence mercifully passed their shock wore off. After a hand shake and a cautious hug they invited us in to sit and chat. The conservation inevitably came around to the ultimate question, “Well, what do you do for a living”? What could I tell them, the truth? “Yes, I am an unemployed earth wanderer and I am here because your daughter and I had an extraordinary sexual encounter in Morocco and I love her”. Vrandi’s mother zoomed in from the kitchen and interrupted the line of questioning, “Dinner is ready” she sang out. Holy shit! I walked into another awkward moment. The dinner table was lavishly laid out as a feast for an honored guest. The elephant on the table was the massive amount of artfully arranged meat dishes. It broke my heart to confess that I was a vegetarian. From the subtle glances passing across the table I could hear them thinking, “Really, just what the hell did our precious princess bring home this time”! I wasn’t chalking up many good points so far. I tried to become invisible as I ate my plate full of slightly over cooked carrots. The dinner mercifully came to an end. We retired to the living room and watched an episode of “All in the Family” on TV. Being without a television for several years I had not previously seen the show. I immediately related to the “Meathead” and his tenuous relationship with Archie Bunker. And then came the last awkward moment of the day, “Bed Time”! As I suspected her parents were from the old school of proper conduct. Until we were legally married in the eyes of the law and God, sleeping together under their roof was forbidden. Vrandi led me to the guest room, gave me a quick peck on the cheek and followed her parents upstairs to their rooms. Fuck!! I couldn’t sleep knowing that the blond goddess was in bed just a few feet above me. So physically close yet held at bay by subjective standards of morality.
The next morning I opened my eyes from a restless sleep and saw Vrandi standing in the doorway with a look of passion in her eyes. She quickly slipped out of her robe and leaped on me. I was more than ready for her. The father was at work and her mother had to shop and run errands. With few precious moments to be alone we had to forgo foreplay and swing for the home run. We quickly established a harmonious albeit slightly rushed rhythm. Oh my God, were on course for another spectacular climax when a car pulled up in the driveway. With a single bound Vrandi leaped off me and zipped upstairs before her mother opened the front door. Suffering from a gran coitus interruptus I was left writhing in a state of wanting. During breakfast Vrandi’s mother gave us a sly knowing glance that a little hanky-panky may have taken place in her absence. After clearing the dishes, Vrandi pulled me aside and whispered, “We have to get a place of our own, today”! I whole heartedly agreed. She scoured a newspaper for rentals and found a few that were available. We borrowed her mother’s car and sped off to find an apartment. Not wanting to waste time searching and not relishing the prospect of spending another night in separate rooms we rented the first place on our list. It was in an older neighborhood a couple of blocks from High Park. We would be sharing a bathroom with another tenant in the second floor flat. The first floor was occupied by the owners of the building, three generations of Ukrainians, a grouchy old grandfather, his son and wife and a young daughter. Vrandi enlisted her sister’s boyfriend and his van to move a mattress into our new pad. A mattress was all we really needed for our first night together since Morocco. All I can say is that we properly christened that mattress.
Over the next few weeks we transformed the apartment into a hippy chik love nest and played house like two terribly happy and horny newlyweds. We would awaken at our leisure after a night filled with raucous romping. Each day we would walk hand in hand in a blind bliss around the neighborhood and in nearby Hide Park or see the sights and sounds of Toronto. Vrandi even took me on a romantic day excursion to Niagara Falls. Ah, life seemed too good to be true. Alas, the honeymoon train ran out of tracks, after a couple of months we were burning through Vrandi’s savings and at the end of the line was the dreaded prospect of having to work. “Work”! Just the thought of it made me double up in mental anguish.
Vrandi quickly found a job but I had to apply for a Canadian work permit. Vrandi came with me as my sponsor to the permit department. After reviewing my application which included a required account of my past work history which was almost blank, I was denied a permit to work. The Canadian government was looking for immigrants who could contribute to society and I didn’t measure up. But I had the option to apply again in three months. Vrandi broke out in tears I on the other hand feigned deep disappointment but was internally rejoicing at the last minute reprieve.
The near miss with work came at a most opportune time. S. David Feinstein a friend from Stockton’s Monroe St. gang of hippies stopped by on his way to Europe for his coming of age walk about. He had recently been busted crossing into the US from Canada at Bonners Ferry, Idaho. At that time he was sporting a massive head of hair that was festooned into long tightly coiled ringlets. If that wasn’t enough to raise flags he was driving a VW bus with California plates! US custom agents made an intensive search and found his pot stash hidden in the bottom of a dog food bag. He was immediately thrown into the town clink and his bus impounded. His girlfriend and her dog were released on their own recognizance. He was eventually released on bail and had to pay an exaggerated fine to keep from going to his own private Idaho prison. Anyway he stayed with us for a few weeks before going on his hippy trek to Europe. Since I couldn’t work the days were free to play with. We would start the days with a long puff on some hash that I purchased from a pirate clad hippy playing soft ball in High Park. The irony didn’t escape me! We would then enjoy the benefits of being members of the idle class. One day we mustered up enough ambition to attempt a hitch hiking adventure to Montreal. After four or five hours of waiting by the road side our thumbs were numb. Discouraged and tired we were ready to throw in the towel when out of nowhere Ginger a young, ultra-cute flaming red head strolled up and joined us. She was a most welcomed addition to our hitching team. But even her radiant presence didn’t advance our cause. We abandoned our attempts to visit Montreal and returned home only to surprise Vrandi with our new friend Ginger. She in turn surprised me with a new friend of her own. It appeared to me that Vrandi rescued a wild and kind of crazy girl off the streets. A benevolent gesture for sure but also rather naïve, I mean was there any vetting done on this person who called herself “Cat Girl”? Again, I see the irony here, Steve and I just brought a stranger off the street with us. Perspective! Anyway, the five of us sat around, drank some wine and smoked a lot of hash eventually passing out on the floor. In the middle of the night I woke to the feeling of a hand gently caressing my dick. I was not about to stop this amorous moment. I then felt warm kisses on my breast which made me quickly rise to the occasion. I had no idea that Vrandi was so progressively bold. I put my hand on her head to guide the kisses in a southernly direction. Wait a minute! Holy fuckin shit!! This was not Vrandi! I opened my eyes to see Cat Girl on the verge of engorging my erection. I panicked and let out a little yelp like a frightened puppy. That woke Vrandi up. “Are you alright”, she asked? “Yes” I croaked, “Just a crazy dream”. Regardless of Cat Girl’s crazy antics, I had to admire her brand of craziness!
Just before Steve was to embark on his journey Vrandi’s parents invited the three of us over for an evening of repast. The shock of meeting me for the first time had worn off but they were not prepared for the second shock of Steve and me together. His hair was a massive snarl of tight black coils springing from his head like a giant “Jewish Afro”. Entering their house was like being in the sequel, “Guess Who Else Is Coming to Dinner”. As anticipated her parents were pleasantly shocked. We worked our way through several awkwardly silent moments and had a wonderful evening. The next day Steve caught a flight and crossed the big pond.
The realization that we were drifting into financial instability hit us in midstream. Not being able to work I couldn’t contribute to our coffer. Vrandi hated her job which didn’t pay enough to keep us above water; we were adrift in a quandary. One day just as our little life boat began to show signs of sinking a manila envelope forwarded by my mother arrived. I opened it up and shrieked with excitement. It was a letter of acceptance from the University of the Americas located in Cholula, Mexico. While languishing in Stockton for several months I requested an application to the University, received one, filled it out and sent it back. I learned of this school while staying with friends in Barcelona. It seemed like a good idea at the time. Being a veteran I could subsidize my student status with the generosity of the US government through the GI Bill. I liked the concept. Anyway, with the move to Canada I totally forgot about the application. Oh my God, I was holding in my hands a document that would change our lives forever.
Vrandi came home from work in a particularly grouchy mood. Besides working for no money her boss made some unwanted advances. I gave her a warm sympathetic hug and gently pulled away at arms-length. Looking into her deep blue eyes I asked, “What would you think about us living in Mexico”? I could see her eyes rolling back as she tried to contain the thought. After explaining my vision of our future; we could live comfortably in Mexico on my GI bill and not have to work. Her eyes suddenly filled with an explosion of understanding. She smiled and in a mini-second blurted, “Let’s go”! I asked her if she didn’t want to think about it a tad longer. “I thought about it and my answer is let’s go”. We hugged in a big sigh of relief; we were getting out of here. She unbuckled, unzipped and pulled my pants down in one swift motion. She then proceeded to give me one of the most sensual and heart felt fellatio jobs I have ever had. At the point of no return she stopped, looked me in the eyes and with a slight coyness in her approach said, “Let’s get married” as she brought me to an unbelievable orgasm. I heard myself hissing, “Yes, oh yes”. She sprang up and began to clap and do what looked like a victory dance. I was then showered with kisses. “We are going to have so much fun together”, she pronounced. Wait a minute! “What happened here”, I asked myself, “Did I just agree to marry Vrandi”? Oh my God, I guess I’ll be heading to Mexico with a wife!!!