Where were you when Bilodeau won the first Gold Medal won on Canadian soil?

I know the date says the 15th - Monday, but I'm talking about yesterday - Black Sunday. Yah. Not so black at the Saxony House @ the Vancouver Rowing Club. Beer. Sausage. Need I say more?



Dave & Oswald were not too happy about having to wait in line - did we create a "Negative Universe" akin to "Angry World"? If we didn't, we should have because these two were from there. I'm pretty sure the only reason they acquiesced was because they bailed last night.

We were on the ramp, just a few metres from the front of the line, when Alexandre Bilodeau won gold - the first one on home soil. Win.

The evening began with a mini-docu-visual on Saxony (a region in Germany) and then the band played. Did you know that the moose is the region's mascot. Huh.

Even the immovable two enjoyed it. I imagine this is what Neil might have been like at Waterloo during Oktoberfest. These guys were fab AND they wore leather lederhosen. I'm serious.

Highlight tunes: Freibier, Autobahn, that Saxony one...

We left around 9ish to catch Mother, Mother @ Live City.

"There won't be a line." Dave says.

We get there and not only is there a line that wraps around the block, but the sign says, "Live City closed. See you tomorrow." Neil spends nearly ten minutes reading the sign aloud, in French and English, but everyone just stares at him and holds their ground. Dudes are probably still in line.

Plan B. It doesn't exist.






Marie, the Harv, and Malou head to Yaletown Brew Pub; John, Dave, and Neil go to the Keg to use the loo; I'm walking to meet them after dropping off my car. As I'm passing Blue Water, I get a glimpse of someone I think is Joe Biden, but I think woteva and take Neil's call on my mobile.

"We just saw Joe Biden... and I think you just walked by... are you wearing a white toque?"

Then, I start hearing, "USA... USA... USA..." It's unmistakable and I'm too slow to figure out where he's gone...

It's a live band at Yaletown BP and we have more beer, until Neil calls for shawarma, after realizing the only thing either of us has had to eat is the sausage at Saxony House. On our way home, we run into a man wearing a Calgary Olympics jacket. He tells us he was a torch technician for the 1988 Games. We take pictures.