And they're off!

Remember that movie Final Destination? Where they have a premonition about the plane blowing up and refuse to get on it and then it does explode in a fiery inferno just after take off? Well my flight Tuesday morning went absolutely nothing like that. In fact it was smooth sailing, er flying, as I left humid, cloudy Toronto at exactly 10am as scheduled, soared atop the snow-capped mountains and slid to a stop on the tarmac of Vancouver International Airport a quarter-hour early. My only complaint being Air Canada's lack of any sustenance offering; Stefan needs to eat in 5 hours. Once I found the recently unveiled Canada Line transit extension it was like gliding from the airport right downtown where Natasha came running up the sunny sidewalk.


To play out the rest of the beautiful, but slightly jet-lagged day, I explored my old haunt with walks along the Sea Wall near Canada Place (pictured), and a nighttime visit to English Bay Beach.

Hustling the next morning to meet an old friend from my frat house experience three summers ago I was accosted by a disheveled man grabbing his crotch who I was forced to sidestep to carry on my way. Following that was a reunion in Gastown featuring underground fresh-squeezed orange juice (I can't say anymore due to health regulations), bubbling cheesy macaroni, and an unguided trot through Gastown skipping all of the sights including the steam-powered clock but arriving at the Police Museum which we explored thoroughly. Unsolved murders, confiscated weapons (including spiked mace(s?), and forks-turned-brass knuckles) crime scenes, a morgue and autopsy room complete with hammer-fractured-skulls and stabbed organs, a tickle trunk and criminal sketching computer program highlighted the visit.

After parting ways I walked S-pattern trying to find the bus to take me to Granville Island. There I met Natasha and rekindled my love for Granville Island Brew. Browsing specialty shops filled with everything from knick-knacks to umbrellas to silver-works, glass and stationary, we worked up an appetite which was satisfied by perogies from the market. We watched while the sailboats and kayakers floated underneath the Burrard Street Bridge with the sun reflecting off the condos opposing us on the other side of the river. Sufficiently rested we hiked over Granville Bridge and carried on past the offerings of jazz bars and beer bars, strip clubs and night clubs, dollar-pizza and 25-cent peep shows, eventually finding our way to the apartment.

Once home it took my last energy to make the apple crisp, and a second wind to consume it before dropping into dreamland.