Part I – The meet
As some of you may know, I am friends with Dustin Lewis
Johnston. Some would even call it a bromance. This is our story.
I started dating Alexa Stevenson, now my wife, in 2002. We
dated all through senior year of high school and through college, eventually
getting married in 2009. In 2006 Alexa started working at Honey Creek Community
School in the after school childcare program. In the summer she also worked as
a counselor for the summer camp program. After I graduated from Eastern Michigan
University in 2008 with my useless degree in Journalism, I began substitute
teaching at various schools in Washtenaw County, including Honey Creek where I
also worked in the after school childcare program. When the school year ended I
did as Alexa did and worked the summer camp program.
Alexa worked with the younger age group and had a room
partner named Sarah Mancos. They hit it off pretty quickly and we all ended up
becoming fast friends and spent a fair amount of time together that summer and
into the fall.
Alexa frequently pet-sat for a number of people in those
days. Often this left me home alone over a weekend. One particular weekend,
Alexa was pet-sitting in Ann Arbor. I was home primarily to take care of our
dog, Lucy. Sarah, knowing that Alexa was animal sitting and that I was home
alone, sent me a text. She basically wanted to know if I wanted to meet her,
her roommate Tori, and her friend Dustin at the Diamondback Saloon in
Belleville. At the time, Alexa and I were living in Belleville less than a
quarter mile from said saloon.
I had many reasons to object to this meetup. First, it was
live country music/hip hop dance night at the saloon. If you know me, you know
that these are two of my least favorite things (not to mention that the saloon
would be populated with the local flavor, not a point in this meetups favor).
Second, Sarah wanted me to meet someone new. I do not like meeting new people.
Third, this new person’s name was Dustin. My reply to Sarah was that there was
no way I was going to like this guy. I mean, his name was Dustin. She informed
me that I would definitely like this guy. Even though his name was Dustin.
Anyway, I was somehow convinced to go (quarter beer night or
something like that) and I met them all at the saloon. We walked in, bombarded
by honky tonk and an ever-loving ton of people wearing cowboy getups. There was
a cover to enter (strike four on the night). We somehow squeezed our way to a
tiny table and sat down and ordered a beer. I sat there awkwardly, hating
Sarah, the music, everything. I looked around for anything to distract me from
the terrible situation I found myself in. My eyes eventually located a tiny TV
showing that evening’s Detroit Tiger game. I had found my out. I decided then
and there that I would ignore everyone and focus on the game. (These were heady
days to be a Tigers fan. Although they had just come off a last place finish
the year before, there were many reasons to be optimistic).
Sarah, attempting to make me be friends with Dustin, brought
up the fact that he also liked the Tigers. So we started to chat. And we kept
chatting. Then we started to make fun of the people there. Then we wondered why
the waitress never ended up coming back. Then we applied pressure to leave the
hell-hole they call the Diamondback Saloon. Eventually, Dustin and I won out
and we all decided to go to a local favorite, Sidetrack in Ypsilanti.
Once we arrived at the new bar, Dustin and I were able to
talk freely without shouting over a most hateful din. While the specific contents
of that evenings discussion have been lost to the fog of time, I can hazard a
guess that it revolved around baseball and our affinity for movies from the
80’s and early 90’s. After that night, I figured I’d see Dustin around here and
there but didn’t really make an attempt on my own to spend time with him. And
that was exactly what happened.
We would hang out exclusively when Sarah brought us
together. I don’t even think I had Dustin’s phone number. However, things would
take a turn the following spring/summer.
Part II – The deepening
That next summer saw the dissolution of Sarah rooming with
Tori. I think Tori was moving south for a job. But that doesn’t matter. Sarah
ended up needing some help moving some of the larger items from her apartment
to the rental truck, then from the rental truck to her new apartment. She
called Dustin and myself. We arrived at her apartment ready to go. The major
piece of furniture was a three cushion sleeper-sofa. That beast was a real
bastard to move. Especially since Sarah lived at the end of a long hallway on
the second floor. And on top of that, the stairs were in that awful spiral
design, as most apartment staircases are. Well, Dustin and I just about died
getting that stupid couch down to the truck. Little did we know, it would get
worse. Far, far worse.
We arrived at her new apartment, ignorant to the fact that
we would soon be risking our lives in the interest of helping our friend have a
place to sit in the new place. We started to unload the truck. As we moved some
smaller items into the apartment, we both began to wonder just how we would get
that couch around the tight corners of this tiny building. Eventually, we just
had to bite the bullet and get it done. We hoisted the monster, squeezed
through the main building door, started up the steps, and crunch. The couch was
wider than the stairway.
With tears of foreboding in our eyes, we steeled our
resolve, heaved the villainous apparatus above the handrail, and almost
collapsed from the effort. Using the handrail as a sort of runway, we pushed
and pulled until the mighty behemoth was…at the first landing. We had at least
another half set of stairs to conquer, then a tight left into the apartment.
Somehow, and this is all a blur, we made it into the apartment where we both
collapsed in exhaustion.
We hooked Sarah’s TV up to the cable in the vain hope that
something would come through. Much to our surprise, something did. It was PBS.
Airing was a documentary on Roy Orbison (he of “Pretty Woman” fame). Dustin and
I were enthralled. That night, we both went home and promptly downloaded Roy
Orbison’s greatest hits. We discovered this fact the next time we hung out. It
was the first of many moments that would prove we were destined to be friends.
Here are some other moments of synchronicity: We had a
“deep” talk at a Taco Bell in Kalamazoo on our way to Chicago for one of the
best trips I’ve ever been on (Taco Burrito King, Longmire!, lights, jumping
beans, the Green Knight (aka Brandon Inge) and so much more). We’ve traveled North
where Dustin never escapes without some sort of injury (inge-ury?). We touched
(shoe) tips at a bar while crossing our legs at the same time. I didn’t help
Dustin move after he tore his Achilles tendon. I did save his life when he had
a kidney stone. He got me a job at Lake Trust Credit Union where it has turned
into a career (and for which I am forever grateful). It’s been less than 10
years, but it sure feels like 20. Let the bromance never die!
Fuck that couch.
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