I spent a few days recently in the Lower Mainland basically goofing around and visiting some relatives in New West.
My brother-in-law suggested we head to English Bay to watch the international fireworks display called the Celebration of Light and as we had never seen them before we thought this would be a nice treat, especially since it was free.
With several city blocks cordoned off to traffic - except for those who could prove they lived there - we had to walk a ways to get to the fireworks.
The walk was a spectacle in itself. Thousands of people marching like sheep to the slaughter toward English Bay. The crowds would not be gone for long as the next day around similar streets would be the Pride parade.
As we walked along we caught up with several people who were getting ready to cross the road, obviously wearing wigs, and as it turned out were guys in drag. I'm not sure if that is the politically correct term anymore, but I tend to ignore politically correct terms most of the time.
One guy, he must have been six foot two, without his huge high heels and massive blond wig, had the biggest calves I have ever seen. And to be honest the heels did make his calves look good. My wife could not believe the legs on this guy who already seemed to be having fun and was obviously getting ready for the next day's parade.
Then it struck me.
My wife has often complained that the reason she doesn't wear heels is because she can't walk in them. But I have to say, after seeing this guy shuffle across the street avoiding the throngs as he went, my wife has absolutely no excuse for not wearing heels.
We met up with some friends on the way to the fireworks and ended up with a great location. With smell of the marijuana coming from all directions and the feint waft of urine from the portable toilets just behind I wasn't sure if I wanted to eat or go for a leak.
The show was excellent, Thailand was the feature country on display, and roughly 400,000 people attended the show.
On the way back to our friend's townhouse the roads were jammed from one end to the other with not enough room to break wind. Then I noticed just ahead some guy in his car parked at the side of the road, turn signal on as if to move out into the crowd, and shoulder checking every couple of seconds. It was not as if the crowd was going to change from one second to the next. It would have taken at least 20 minutes for the crowd to die down enough for him to even try to attempt to move out. But he kept his turn signal on and kept shoulder checking nevertheless.
I wondered how long he had been sitting there as we were certainly not at the front of the crowd. He could have left the car where it was, went for a walk to the nearest Starbucks or Tim Hortons grabbed a coffee, sauntered back to his car, got in and assumed the same turn signal-shoulder check position before the crowd would have died down.
Maybe he had a fight with the wife and thought it was easier to sit in the turn position for 40 minutes than it was to try to go back inside and face whatever it was he was trying to drive away from. With the Pride parade the next morning it is entirely possible he spent the night and most of the next day still in that position having cramped up overnight yet mellowed enough from the wasp of marijuana fumes to even remember what he was trying to do.
