A Friend of the Best Kind

I'd call myself a pretty good judge of character, and generally, I surround myself with some amazing people. My friends are brilliant, really really brilliant. And these past few weeks? There's one friend in particular who has gone over and above, and been especially amazing and brilliant.

He's picked me up when I was stranded at a petrol station, even though he was already in bed when I called. He's the kind of person that drove me back home instead of going to the snow (even though it was a bluebird day with 10cm on trail powder) because I was horribly sick. He's the guy that makes sure I get home safe after a night at the bar, who will pay my share of the taxi if I don't have any cash. He's the kind of guy that lets us use his bach free of charge. That will split a fillet-o-fish with me, because I hadn't tried one before, and I was scared that I wouldn't like it.

He's the guy that worked the shit jobs at the bar with me, who taught me how to play poker, that did the scary high wire adventures with me, and cheered me on even when I'd already decided that I was going to fall. He's the kind of guy who will do jumping shots anywhere I want to do them, if I ask nice. Who will share his breakfast with me, if I have none. He's listened to my dramas, and passed me the trash can when the alcohol disagreed with my stomach. He tried to teach me how to play Battlefield 1943, and didn't laugh too much when I crashed the plane upside down, or fired at the sky, and cheered me on when I finally did manage to kill someone.

He's an amazing, brilliant, extra-ordinary friend. And I just wanted to say, Lyth, you are amazing. And I appreciate you muchly.