I am the mayor of Gastown

Saturday was somewhat ugly weather-wise, so we thought we’d take in a movie. We picked up our tickets for a late afternoon show and then walked a few blocks down to Gastown, which is a little bit skeeze, but also fun, and not nearly as flatulent as I’d hoped/feared. We took the traditional tourist picture next to the steam clock, saw the fake CN Tower and the fake Sydney Opera House, then stopped at the Steamworks Brew Pub for lunch. The after effects of Au Bar left us with sour stomachs, and despite having sworn off beer for the day only three hours prior, if you’re in a brewpub, it makes the baby Jesus cry if you don’t drink a beer (especially on Easter). Our waiter is sub-par, but the food is very good. It also ends up being the only real meal we have that day.

Our movie is The Wild, which Beth’s brother-in-law Chris worked on. It’s a cute film and it looks amazing. I haven’t seen Madagascar—the Dreamworks rushjob knockoff of The Wild—but the difference in the quality of the two is night and day. There were a half dozen other animated films that previewed before the movie, and more often than not they looked Madagascar-terrible—the exception being the new Pixar film, Cars. (Check the newest trailer for an out-of-the-blue hippie slam that’s still making us laugh.)

That night we stopped into the Rugby Club to watch the last Canucks game of the season. We caught the first two periods, shared two appetizers between the three of us, and then went back to Beth’s place. We started drinking and we tuned in to hear the Canucks win in overtime. Beth offered her willing womb to various Canucks as their on-ice performance dictated. After this, we put on Casablanca, which Beth had never seen. She loved it, we loved it more than ever, and we all continued to drink and not eat. Before bed, we also watched Rings, which is a short film that’s included on The Ring 2 disc. Worth watching and quite freaky, it sadly concludes with an it-was-all-a-dream wrap up. Boo-urns.

Sunday morning, we discovered that once you go hippie you never go back, because we found ourselves rushing off to The Naam for breakfast. We were all pretty seriously hung-over. Beth had a sore neck, which she decided could only be meningitis, which I then deemed alcohol-related meningitis (ARM for short. Expect our fundraising campaign to come to your town soon. Only you can prevent alcohol-related meningitis.) Breakfast was very good; my meal involved vegan sausages, which is a miracle I still can’t wrap my head around.

There was some indecision over what we wanted to do that day. As a last minute change of plans, Sarah suggested we drive to Squamish. It’s not a long drive, but it takes you along a winding mountainside road (the Sea to Sky highway; or if you’re a local, the Sea to Die Highway.) If the weather had been in any way inclement, it would have been a terrible go, but the weather was perfect and so was the view. About an hour later, we rolled into Squamish—where we honestly didn’t do very much. This isn’t a complaint, and it’s certainly not meant to say that the trip was wasted, it’s just that, in words, it sounds even less action-packed than it was. We used a bathroom, went to Tim Horton’s, checked out a tent sale, and left. It was worth it for the view, but again I have no pictures handy, and my powers of description are lank and weak. On the way out, we stopped at Shannon Falls Provincial Park for a photo op, then for another at a marine park, then it was back on the Sea to Die heading Vancouver-ward.

Dinner was at the Banana Leaf, where the second self-imposed alcohol ban in two days was again self-defeated (although not in the binge drinking style that has become our custom.) The Banana Leaf is a Malaysian place, and the meal was very good. I went from thinking this isn’t enough food! to my belly’s all sticky outty! in the space of three minutes. Back at the pad, we ate easter cream eggs and watched Land of the Dead, which might just have been the grossest movie I’ve ever seen, but strangely it didn’t gross me out that much. Clearly, something has dies inside me. At least I’ll be iron-willed and undeterrable when that zombie Armageddon is finally upon us.