I ran for the #9 bus today. Yep. With a backpack (yes, I own one). Ask me when I did that last. Go ahead.
My cousin Neil and his family (including by lovely goddaughter, Alison) arrived from Ottawa today. I taught one class, put my computer and my camera in my backpack, walked half a block too far, ran back that half block to get on the 99 B-Line, which passed me as I kept walking the half block too far (I had no idea I could get on at the back door until I saw someone else do it), took the Canada Line to YVR, met them, got back on the Canada Line, dropped them off at my apartment, walked back to the station, and took the train back to Cambie-City Hall.
Don't get me wrong: it was completely my pleasure to greet them - I'm not complaining. Honestly. I'm actually having a good laugh at my antics...
Anyway. Before I get to the actual running part, I should mention that I really don't mind taking the Canada Line. I have this nostalgic ideal about it: people walk at officious paces, everyone has a brief case or some piece of luggage, everyone always seems to be going somewhere or returning from nowhere, which I suppose can be true for any Translink service, but the Canada Line is different. I just feel like I'm in Madrid or London or some train station whenever I take the Canada LIne, and let's just face it, train stations are always romantic. But I am digressing...
By the time I'm exiting the Cambie-City Hall Station, I know that I have about eight minutes minutes before I'm supposed be teaching. (I like to think I'm important sometimes, so I called work while I was on the train and asked Adele to cover my class because I thought I might be slightly late.) The #9 goes by. I decide I'd better run to catch it and actually make it back to work on time. Well, I hadn't realized that the bus stop was at the end of the block. Pshaaa - you say. Well, I'll tell you, it's a pretty big deal to someone who doesn't take transit often, never mind making the correct connection points! I make it on the bus and nearly forget to pull the I'd-like-to-get-off-signal-cord. The driver was probably not too pleased at having to make an abrupt stop, which doesn't even dawn on me until much later because I'm thinking about the small hill I have to walk with only two minutes left before my class. I made it on time albeit it sweaty. Gross, I know. Sorry.
Anyway, the rest of the day goes swimmingly. I'm walking around downtown and it is like I'm at a fair. There are people everywhere - lots of people. I'm talking lots.
Everyone's wearing Olympic gear. (Go Canada Go!) Pedestrians have taken over the city.Once I get back to my apartment, the girls and Neil and Lorna are ready to go get a bite to eat and walk around a little bit - so many languages, so many helicopters, so many mittens.
We decide we'll settle in and watch the Opening Ceremonies from my apartment. We're watching, we're listening, we're making jokes. (Oh good gravy, the orcas... the best effect!)
Lorna says, "Canada, land of the bad ass fiddlers."
We notice that the five Canadians who are in formation to light something are looking kind of lost and almost nervous. The hydraulics... blah, blah, blah. then Gretsky is outside BC Place with the flame and I say, "Hey, that's two blocks away from the front door."
"I'll stay with the kids." Lorna says.
"Are we going?" Neil asks.
I'm already putting on my sweater and slipping into my runners.
The elevator takes forever. Neil goes, "Let's take the stairs."
As I open the fire escape door, I hear about four other fire escape doors open, one from the floor below and then I feel like we're IN the Amazing Race.
Neil and I sprint down Robson towards BC Place amongst calls of "Where is he"s and "Which way did he go"s... (Actually, he sprinted, I jogged - quite pathetically actually.
We manage a glimpse of Wayne with the flame on the back of sooped-up pick-up. And, we continue running trying to get the photo. We have no idea which way it's gone (it's been a closely guarded secret, the outdoor flame site). I call the Malougan, the human sat-nav.
"Which way is Gretsky going? I need turn by turn directions." I ask Malou. By this time I can't keep up with Neil. I tell him, "Go! When you get to the next intersection make a left..."
I tell Malou to call Neil.
Half an hour later, Neil returns - he hadn't realized how far he had run - all the way to Waterfront, where Gretsky did indeed light the outdoor flame.
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