“Fuck it, I’m going in,” I said, dropping trou on the shore and splashing into the sea. Orion’s belt reflected off the small waves, and the water was so clear we could see the scalloped sand underneath our feet. The ocean was bracing but not freezing, and the moon was nearly full.
Joseph and Micah looked at each other but hardly hesitated to strip and follow me in, and the three of us — hairy Colorado sea bears — painfully pale and naked in the moonlight, dove into the ocean, laughing and whooping and splashing around.
It was 1am, and Joseph had turned 40 just an hour ago.
His girlfriend was asleep back in the airbnb, and the three of us had stopped to put our feet in the water after a sloshy boys’ night of carousing in the small Cuban beach town of Varadero. None of us thought we’d be going for a swim.
But that’s what you do when the sea is clear, the night is bright, you’re drunk on rum and smoky from cigars, and it’s your brother’s big four-oh.
Joseph and I didn’t know we’d become de-facto sibs when we first met years ago. In fact, we’re not sure when we originally became acquainted. Was it when I used to frequent his pal’s bar on Sunday nights way back in 2006? Or when we shared an office for a short time a decade ago? Whenever it was, we weren’t especially close until a few years ago when, realizing we lived just a few blocks from each other, we became snowboarding buddies.
The point of inflection for me was our third or fourth time up one season, when we’d spent the whole day talking nonstop — during the detour for breakfast burritos and the drive up the mountain, a day of lift rides and powder, and the whole way back to Denver. At some point, Joseph mentioned he had an extra ticket to a restaurant industry beer festival that evening and invited me to join the crew.
I hopped out of the car to head into my house for a brief respite and a shower, when he called out, “Wash your ass and we’ll see you in an hour!” And I realized I wasn’t sick of him yet.
Joseph became one of the most important people in my life — going to superhero flicks with Simone and me, meeting up in SF for drunk nights and weekends with our bar owner friends, family celebrations, gatherings of the boys, and of course snowboarding adventures.
It’s a chill, easy friendship cultivated by last-minute cocktails in the neighborhood, quick catch-up phone calls, and commiseration about everything from politics to the women in our lives (or freshly and painfully out of them).
Joseph is my emergency contact.
A couple summers ago, on a sunny and bright Saturday afternoon, Simone having left the house early to walk to an anime convention downtown, my phone rang and it was Joseph saying he was done working for the day and needed a cocktail in the sun. We wandered up to a neighborhood beer garden, where we proceeded to drink rum and sodas, compare notes about the clientele, and plot our next cocktail.
By the time Simone came walking up the street to the house toward evening, we were both half in the bag, ambling home from our third or fourth patio. She and “Uncle Joey” stretched out on the couch together and played Super Mario Kart while I ordered a giant pizza for us all to share. When our meal arrived, Joseph set out placemats and napkins on wall of the front stoop while Simone filled glasses of water and I transferred massive New York-style slices from the box to plates. We ate on our sunny porch, the three of us laughing and joking and bantering. We judged the parallel parking in front of the house, made noises at the dogs leading their owners down the sidewalk, and reveled in one of those perfect summer evenings, when the sun is still high in the sky but the shadows start to deepen, and the only thing that matters is that very moment of joy with some of the people you love most in the world.
Simone has a picture on her phone of Joseph and me that afternoon. I’m looking at him and laughing and he’s smiling back. Simone kept it because it makes her happy to see us looking at each other with such deep affection. When she voiced worries about me being lonely before she left for college, my friendship with Uncle Joey comforted her that I’d be okay.
As my closest friends since my divorce 16 years ago have gotten married, had babies, moved away, or just drifted into different lifestyle rhythms, Joseph and I (and a few of our core pals) have steadfastly refused to fully grow up. We go out big on weeknights. We drop everything for a #snowpantsTuesday. We’ll forgo getting a head start on the work week and instead spend a Sunday rambling around the city on foot, getting into trouble, dragging other friends into the debauchery, sliding into a new week hazy and relaxed. Or we’ll work on a Sunday so we can get out and play on Monday.
But even with all of that, Joseph hustles more than anyone I know — he’s a successful real estate agent who works every day of the week and still spends plenty of evenings putting in time at the restaurant he co-owns. He truly lives up to the work hard, play hard, be kind, and always crush it ethos that seems to have become my day-to-day as well.
It’s all things in moderation, even moderation.
I have a core group of pals who are committed to squeezing the most out of every day, ideally together, and I’m so fortunate to have them in my life. We joke about our “race to the gout,” but we intersperse the rich foods and late bourbon nights with healthy bites and visits to the gym. It works for us, even if it’s not the lifestyle others might appreciate.
Cuba was a full-on adventure, the four of us exploring the streets of Old Havana with a bottle of rum and no agenda. We ate street food in the outdoor mercados, watched a storm surge break over the walls of the Malecón while drinking cortados on a terrace above, and rode in classic convertibles with Latin music playing around every corner.
We left the island with bellies full of añejo and ropa vieja, smelling of cigars and debauchery. I was ready to be home and sad to wind down another adventure with my pal. But I was content in knowing we still had plenty of travel escapades and shenanigans ahead of us.
As I slog my way through the toughest month of the year, it's good to know a brother like Joseph is there to pull me out of my doldrums.
Wonder where we’ll wind up next!
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