we stuff our Hockey Bag with Metrotown freebies from the "5-Finger
Discount Store". We
wander past Edmonds, where "Stupid Graffiti" lurks in the bush. We
careen out to dismal New Westminster and visit the Sally Anne
Superstore, just a hop from the New West Station, long known
as a Central American refugee cocaine depot.
Just where are all the decent people when you need them? Hypnotized
by the hum of time, the clatter of the tracks, the nervous metallic
female voice that announces your dropoff point. It could
be a slum in Malaysia, a wrong turn in Tokyo, a Cuban cargo ship.
No, it's merely the SkyTrain, and you're dreaming again.
You're on your way to the Brooklyn Pub for a beer and a Caesar
it's also the closest thing that Vancouver has to a "real" rapid
transit system. This city is known for its political potpourri
and its backward and stuck energy when it comes to making any
kind of sound strategic decisions around city planning. It's
compromise, ambiguity and mayhem run amuck.
It can get
you from downtown to the 'burbs' in 20 minutes. You escape
arrogant SUV drivers, blonde brainless women talking on their
cellphones as they wantonly kill whatever is in their way, and
albino alligators that surface from the sewers on Commercial