Brad’s Sunday Adventure

listening: Captain Tractor

I had managed to scrape together a rough pile of random energy from here and there by the time I woke up this morning. I don’t know exactly where it came from – maybe the bright sunny day and the looming 15 degree weather. Either way, it was there and before noon had hit I had pulled the contents of my closet, reorganized, and did a host of further cleaning-type activities. So then what?

I decided to go for a walk. And then, at some point in this walking-thing I realized that strolling the streets as I do so often was just not going to cut it – so I got on a bus.

Vancouver’s bus system is a unique, crazy, and vast service – all at once. Next time I have the chance to hop on a random bus and see where I end up it will cost me an extra 25 cents. Not a big deal, but for now why not take advantage of the last week of cheap rates. I grabbed the 15 north on Cambie shortly after noon, and ten minutes later I find myself walking somewhere new: downtown. Downtown was nice, but I had been there before. So? Why not wander some more? Why not just see what there is to see in Downtown Vancouver on sunny Sunday afternoon? It may sound odd, but around this point is where I suddenly get a craving for a Booster Juice.

Booster Juice: (BU – stirr / jUs) noun 1. A strangely addicitve smoothy-type concoction generated by briskly blending fruit, juice, and other as-of-yet unidenitifed ingredients. 2. Name of store selling said concoction for the fair but still costly price of approximately 4 bucks. 3. Store which speckled the Edmonton landscape, especially near where my aparement used to be, but occurs disturbingly infrequent in this city.

listening: Dire Straits

So there I was – Downtown, without a known Booster Juice location at my disposal. If I had seen one nearby or along my current trajectory I might have gone there, but the closest facility I could remember was on the other side of English Bay in North Vancouver. In other words: hop the seabus and ride over to Lonsdale Quay to quench the thirst.

The Quay: hub of activity for the north shore? Possibly. It was live. I got my juice – and a cinnamon bun at one of the bakeries – and sat at the side of the dock wondering why anyone would pay 2 dollars to look through the binocular perched on a steel pole – what do you see: downtown. Why not just go there, it would cost the same amount: one big shiney toonie. I did that: in fact my tenure at the Quay was just long enough for one lap of the cruiser. I got on the next sailing back to the city core about half an hour after arriving.

Downtown take two. I get on a 98 and B-line it back to my regular stomping grounds. This time on the bus a nice girl named Rupee asks me 38 questions about my satisfaction with the bus service: it must just be my week for surveys. I answer politely, a bit less honest than I was with Molson the other day. It’s tougher to be stark when your face to face with the inquisition.

listening: Bryan Adams

I walk home: horray. Another exciting adventure – as you can see I write with such enthusiasm….

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Same Day, Different Year