The sun rises on a normal day in Vancouver. People hop on the bus to go to work, parents kiss their children before sending them to school, birds sing, cars honk, and the west coast Canadian symphony is in harmony. Tympanis rumble as a green speck meanders down the long highway leading into Vancouver. Cut to hotel concierge quietly filing papers. In the background, a car rolls into the parking lot. Obscured by shadows, the faces of the two potential guests perplex the concierge. She leans forward, asking, “Can I help you?” Gently swaying, the faces suddenly spring into the light, revealing ashen complexions and jaundiced eyes. They lunge towards the concierge, who screams in agony as they sink their rotting teeth into her pulsing neck… Finally, after 44 hours of time-transcending, mind-warping madness, we roll into the Ramada hotel at noon. An epic round of rock-paper-scissors determines that Bryan and Darren will check in, leaving Brad and I to stretch and fantasize about an existence at under 60mph. Taking our time to wash the dirt still caked under our fingernails from Anchorage, Fairbanks, and 2000 miles of Canada, we check e-mail and lie down. Around 4pm, our stomachs determine that it is time to re-visit the “real world,” and so we wander in search of food. Smelling pizza, we enter a clearly recently-opened establishment. Bryan is doubtful of the quality and suspicious of tourist-gouging prices, but when the kindly joint matron offers a deal on two pizzas and a two-liter coke that were undeliverable ($9 for the whole shebang!), his complaints are silenced. Enraptured by the ranch dipping sauce, we enjoy our view of the Safeway across the street and begin to plan the night’s adventures.
Vancouver has a number of interesting neighborhoods, and some jaunts are suggested by Bryan’s friend. We decide to park in the poorer part of downtown, near Chinatown, and make our way to the piers and the main drag: Granville St. Deciding on this plan, we immediately take a wrong turn out of the hotel and spend an hour and half finding a place fifteen minutes away. Safely parked across from the police station, we walk through a neighborhood filled with condemned buildings and homeless people. I don’t think I’ve seen that scale of poverty in a city in a long time. One guy on a bike asks if we are interested in sampling the newest line of valium. We respectfully, and for Brad and Bryan’s stomachs, regretfully decline. We find our way to Gastown, an “area is notable for its distinctive late-Victorian architecture, and for some superbly appointed stores and restaurants” (thanks, worldweb.com), I find a coffee to ease my headache. Walking through Gastown, we find Canada Place, which looks like a mall on the water. It is too late/we are too lazy to investigate more closely, so we begin our stroll down Granville St.
Packed with high-end shops and restaurants, Granville appears to be the Newbury or 5th Ave. of Vancouver, though it also has the characteristically Canadian occasional porn/adult toy store. After strolling up and down, we decide that we really need more rest. Darren and I decide to have a beer at The Landing, which Darren had been to once before and found the waitresses to be among the finest in Vancouver. Upon meeting our hostess, we immediately agreed. We caught the end of a football game and observed the incredible percentage of Asians in the place. Darren and I finish our pints, Bryan and Brad wait in agony to GTFOH, and we make our way back to the Ramada.
Darren and I decide more food is necessary and find a Korean barbecue place next door. The waiter is the friendliest we have ever met (second only to the Vietnamese waitress at Ray’s), as he explains to us the medicinal properties of Korean food and how to properly dry clean. Satiated, we arrive back in the room to find Bryan and Brad feverish and watching The Negotiator, starring Samuel L. Jackson and Kevin Spacey. Though a mediocre movie, the experience is made infinitely more entertaining by the fever-dream induced stories Bryan and Brad would later share. Sitting on the bed, I was laughing at a number of things from the movie, and Brad was convinced the bed had a coin-operated vibration device, as it seemed never to stop shaking. Bryan, meanwhile, understood the pharmaceutical commercials on TV to be mandating him to buy drugs that would boost his negotiation skillz.
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