8/10/14
At sea, Aboard Queen of New Westminster,
En route Swartz Bay-Tsawwassen
I love boats. I really do. There is something truly magical about
smoking a cigar on a boat while enjoying a beautiful view. After the “miracle” of last night, we were
hoping for another miracle this morning. Said miracle would allow us to take the 10 AM
ferry and be at the amusement park before noon, which would mean that we would
have time for brunch and a cigar before Stuart dropped me off at YVR. Taking the next ferry would eff everything
up. We would have had to pulled
everything off perfectly and have a few spots of luck for that to happen. Before I could leave Victoria, I needed to
shower, pack, dress, have breakfast, take a picture at Parliament, smoke my
Cuban (which I am just now finishing), get the necessary souvenirs, and get our
car from the valet. That meant that we
would need to find a souvenir shop that was opened before 9 AM, avoid traffic,
and have the ferry not be sold out.
David Gold would say that this would require “a small Christian miracle.”
I am not Christian, and I do not believe in
miracles. I believe in careful planning
and perfect execution of said plan. The
variable was the wake up time. Unless I
woke up naturally earlier, I would need 4.5 hours of sleep to avoid feeling dead. It was 3:30 AM when I finished my pipe and
moving the matress outside was easier said than done. The balcony was about 6 inches too small for
the mattress, but I was not bailing at that point. Continuing the tradition of Netanya, The
Black Forest, and Bar Harbor, I slept outside.
At about 4 AM, just as I was about to fall asleep, I stopped breathing,
or so it felt. My sleep machine stopped
working. Stuart was still awake, so I
had him check the plug. No dice. It was broken. Fuck!
My alarm was set for 8:15 AM, the absolute latest that was possible even
to aim for the 11 AM ferry. Anything
later than that would mean us splitting up once we got to Vancouver. I woke up naturally at 7:30 AM. Everything went smoothly and breakfast was
great, including some delicious smoked fish, local I assumed.
We were at Parliament by 8:30 AM, and it was
so beautiful. I instantly recalled why I
travel. Stuart was not impressed. We took our pictures, and I lit up my beat up
Suiza Exclusivo Punch. Even dry and with
a cracked wrapper, it was an excellent smoke.
We walked down Government Street, and I saw a souvenir shop open, but it
looked pretty crappy. I was wrong. They had a great selection, flag pins,
keychains, and t-shirts. There was even
a newspaper machine outside for me to get my Sunday paper. The gifts were overpriced, which was fine for
my personal souvenirs, but I couldn’t justify buying gifts for anyone
else. The t-shirt was the last piece of
the puzzle, but I didn’t like the ones they had in XXL. Crap.
We continued walking down Government Street, and I saw another shop
open. It had an amazing selection of
souvenirs, including some reasonably priced dream catchers to get as
gifts. There would be no general gift
bag this trip, just ones for the ladies at the office, Matt, Charles, and
Danielle.
Maybe I’ll get other stuff in
Vancouver, but I have no need to go souvenir shopping in Vancouver. I’ve already done that. As we were walking back, I said either “Oh,
yeah,” or “Mecca” in re: what appeared to be the perfect gift shop, thinking it
was opened. I was wrong. Stuart thought I meant the girl in front of
the souvenir shop. He was not
wrong. She was a beautiful girl with the
Northern look. She could wait the ten
minutes for it to open. We could
not. I got the car while Stuart got our
bags. We were on the road before 9:15
AM, just as planned, and it as 30 minutes to the ferry terminal. If there was no traffic and if there was room
on the boat, we’d be good. We were good. After we parked, I snuck my cigar up to the
smoking deck, and I proceeded to write this entry, which I will now close. We should be back at Tsawwassen within an
hour.
Vancouver, British Columbia
All’s well that ends well.
Never is this more true than when I travel. In the end, what matters is that I can get
those pictures, stamp those brochures, buy those souvenirs, and check off those
boxes. The how if it doesn’t really
matter. The fact that we arrived at
Victoria at 2:30 AM instead of 11:30 PM last night is irrelevant. The panic I felt two hours ago is irrelevant
compared to the relaxation and triumph I am now feeling. I did everything I wanted to do on this trip,
and I am now smoking one of the best cigars of my life. There are few cigars worth the price I paid
for it. This one is. After I closed, I wound up having second
breakfast. We docked a little late, so
we were behind schedule. I knew that if
we did the park quickly and ate quickly we would be fine. My drop dead deadline was a 4 PM arrival at
the cigar store, enough time for a quick smoke before they closed. I would then watch the first half of the
football match before heading to the airport.
We got to the amusement park at 12:30 PM, and it was tiny. I was glad to do my annual amusement park
with Stuart. We made jokes and had fun,
cursing at the top of our lungs during the drops. We finished at 2:45 PM, getting to the
restaurant at 3:05 PM. From there, it
would be 5 minutes to the cigar store.
That mean we would have 45 minutes to eat, plenty of time. I walked to the hostess and was about to say
that we head a reservation when I turned around. There was no we. Stuart was nowhere to be found, nor was the
car. I saw him reparking across the
street. We now only had 40 minutes to
eat. We had a veritable feast of fish
and steak and oysters and whiskey. It
was really good, and I was okay that it took us 45 minutes. Our GPS was showing a 4 PM arrival at the
cigar store, but city driving never quite works that way. It was 4:02 PM when we got to the address,
but I didn’t see a cigar store. I
figured it was inside a shopping mall type thing. BC Place was right there. This would be perfect. I could have a quick cigar, walk to the
stadium, and then head to the airport.
However, because of the football match, parking was limited, so we found
a garage. I told Stuart to park while I
got started in the cigar store since it was 4:05 PM at this point.
Almost as soon as I walked away from Stuart,
I knew that it would be a mistake. I was
right. The cigar store was closed, and
it had moved to another location.
Fuck! After 5-10 minutes, Stuart
was nowhere to be found. Now, I
panicked. After 20 minutes, I was ready
to fall apart. The funny thing was, I
knew exactly how to handle this situation.
It was quite simple, there was another cigar store a short walk away
that was in walking distance. Stuart
knew that the cigar store would close at 5 PM, so I would until then, go into
the stadium, take my picture, walk to the other cigar store, have my cigar, and
take a taxi to the airport. I had my
computer bag with me, but everything else was in the car. I could go without that stuff for two weeks,
and Stuart could drop it off with my brother when he stopped in Portland, so I
could pick it up when I saw him in two weeks.
I figured that Stuart either was stuck in the bathroom or got lost. He has problems with both his bowels and his
sense of direction.
After 30 minutes, he
finally showed up. He got locked in an
emergency exit or something. I didn’t
really care. I just cared what happened
to me. I knew that I could just go to
the other cigar store, and the timing would work out. I took my picture in the stadium, bringing in
my water bottle but leaving my computer bag out with Stuart, telling him to
wait in that exact spot. I only needed 5
minutes. It just wasn’t the same, a
winter stadium converted to a football stadium.
I couldn’t feel the Olympic spirit.
Stuart asked me if it was worth the fee I paid for both the ticket and parking. To check the stadium off my list, it was. We then walked towards the cigar store,
getting my last souvenirs of the trip, including struggling to find the perfect
t-shirt.
Then for the last stop of the
trip, the cigar shop. They had a great
selection, but it was overpriced, even by Canadian prices. I was desperate. I could have just bought enough to last me
until I got to Barcelona in 5 weeks, but I decided to get a bunch that were
semi-reasonably priced, including a box and some singles. He gave me 15% off the whole purchase. I also got a Canada Exclusivo to smoke now,
and it is so good, worth every penny. I
sat down and proceeded to write this entry while Stuart grilled the clerk on
his ideas for things to do in Vancouver.
I will now close so that I finish up, publish, and begin The Journey
Home, which will be treated in a separate entry.
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