Last night we boarded the West Coast Express and headed into the city to watch the fireworks. We sat with a young woman and chatted comfortably throughout the trip. We got to Waterfront Station and then headed to Yaletown. We wandered a bit and quickly found a restaurant with an open table on the patio. We settled in and had a flavourful Mexican dinner. After that we walked down towards English Bay.
The whole area was very crowded. We stumbled down a rocky path to the beach, just to the side of the False Creek ferry dock. The brambles took offence to our intrusion and attacked my ankles. Bleeding from several small scratches, I bravely continued on and soon we were sitting on the rocks, the thin blanket barely cushioning our bottoms. We tuned our newly purchased radio to the appropriate station and waited for the sky to fully darken and for the show to begin. More people joined us on the beach as time passed. A few test fireworks went up, then the radio station began the countdown. We turned the radio up and held our breath. Familiar Disney songs played as the fireworks lit up the night. It was magical. The only small flaw was the constant conversation of two young man, holding Gatorade bottles (with added vodka I’m sure), who came down the path as the fireworks started.
When the fireworks were over we joined the crowd heading back to the Yaletown Roundhouse. By this time we had walked about 5 kilometres. I was glad I had brought my cane, it made walking so much easier, but I was still pretty sore and tired. We got off the sky train and the walkway through the terminal at Waterfront was closed. Two transit employees were directing people to go up a level and around the building. I hobbled towards them and they told me wait. When everyone else had turned to go the long way, they moved the gate and let us go through the terminal. I was very appreciative of the gesture and told them so several times.
We made it to the train with plenty of time to spare. It filled up quickly, I’m sure there were far more people taking it out of the city than went in. A young woman with four boys, all under the age of 10, arrived breathlessly just before the train left. She plunked two of them in the empty seats across from us. She held the youngest on her lap as she and her oldest son sat in the last two empty seats in our compartment. The boys across from us were pretty funny. They told us how they had hated the beach and the walk to the train, how cold and tired and hungry they were. We heard about their dad who worked really hard at two jobs but slept all day and how they didn’t have time to play because they worked all the time. The older one told us he was in construction. The younger one pulled a shell out of his shoe and said it hadn’t hurt him when he was walking because his feet were tough. They were entertaining and I have to admit, I purposely kept them talking for my own amusement. I kept a straight face when they made their outrageous statements and told their outlandish stories.
We hadn’t gone far when the train slowed and then stopped. We were told over the intercom that a police incident had closed the tracks and that they didn’t know how long we’d be delayed. Most people dealt with the stoppage with grace. The two little boys by us curled up and went to sleep. About half an hour later, the train started moving again. We rolled into our little Poco Station and walked through the quiet streets to our dark house. No coyotes prowled, but there was one insomniac sitting on the bench. We washed the dust off and crawled into bed.
Six hours later were back up and getting ready to drive back into the city for the annual Pride Parade. We had tickets for brunch and viewing at the Boathouse in English Bay. Dale dropped me off in front and went to find a place to park my Bug. I waited in line and he soon joined me. The number of people waiting gave me pause, as well it should have. When we finally got in, the second level was packed. There were few available seats and the lineup for the buffet snaked through the entire restaurant. Standing in line we saw a friend and her family. She waved us over and invited us to sit with them. Thank goodness she did! We didn’t get to eat with them because it took so long for us to get our food. They had already gone downstairs to stake out a place by the window to see the parade by the time we finally made it back to the table. When we finished eating we went downstairs too. Our understanding was that our tickets allowed us to be on every level of the restaurant but we were told the top level was reserved for a certain group and the main level for another. How they expected the rest of us to see the parade from the second level was beyond me. The street level was completely full so going outside to view wasn’t an option. Our friend ignored the directions she was given and stayed at her place by the window and we joined her. That action saved our day.
The parade was wonderful, as always. The joy and pride was infectious. All of the entries were greeted with loud acclaim. My favourite part was when our Prime Minister and his family came by. He was very animated and clearly happy to be there. The protection around him was unobtrusive but he was followed by a tactical vehicle with armed personnel. My enjoyment of the parade was mitigated by how hard it was for me to stand for such a long time. We stuck it out for a couple of hours then we left. I hobbled to where Dale had parked the car and we drove home. I was exhausted and headed straight up for a nap.
When we booked our tickets for brunch and parade viewing at the Boathouse, we though it would be an event. You know, mimosas and tasty little brunchy tidbits served as we sat near the window waiting for and then watching the parade. Instead we got one pass at a barely adequate buffet and we had to defy rules to be able to see the parade. It is so disappointing when an event is oversold and under delivered. We will have to figure out another strategy for next year.