The radio advertised “Gay Christmas”, referring to the
LGBT Pride Parade taking place today. All along Robson, Deman and Davie
streets, rainbow flags flapped, storefronts were decorated with rainbow stripes
(even Safeway!), pedestrian walkways were multi-striped, and people of every
orientation dressed up a little or a lot. The Parade is a very big deal in
Vancouver, especially in the West End. Viewers were gathering by 8AM;
people had reserved tables near the street in cafes. And I was going to miss
most of it.
My flight left at 3:14PM, so Joe gave me a ride to the
airport ($20 to cover gas and time—not bad, as it would have been $12 by public
transportation).
 |
The saving grace--a terrific collection of
Disney character toys in the Vancouver airport |
I got there at 1PM, and the nightmare began. I had noticed flights that day were overbooked, but it didn’t occur to me that this might be a warning sign.
When the gate opened for boarding a half-hour before take-off, I asked the
airline rep about my chances for getting on—he told me, “not likely. I’ve had
one stand-by here since 6AM. We routinely overbook here in Vancouver”. Not good
news. In fact, they had to ask a paying customer to get off the plane for the
next flight (he got a $400 certificate, so he didn’t suffer too much). Long
story short, I was there for 9 ½ hours before I caught the last flight to San
Francisco; the only reason I got on was because the flight was delayed 3 ½
hours and people who had to make connections out of SFO took other flights. The
overbooking of Vancouver flights was a royal pain, but the delay was all SFO’s
fault, as they’re only letting one international flight land at a time since
the Asiana Airlines disaster a month ago (a pilot filled me in on this
detail).
I got in at 12:45AM, and SFO was completely shut down. My
only way of getting home was by taxi, and the fare was $120. I had exactly $46.
I thought, “hey, the airporter will run in only 4 hours; I can wait it out”. I
queried a couple of cab drivers whether they would consider my $46 for the fare
and got turned down. As I was pacing around the baggage pick-up doors, a cabbie
pulled into the end of the line (there were 30 cabs waiting, and no flights
were landing…go figure). He yelled, “Where you going?”. I told him, and the
amount of money I had on me. “I’ll do it,” he said, “but I can’t pick you up
here—they’ll get mad (meaning the 30 cabs ahead of him). So I met him upstairs,
and all I can say is, I’m glad there’s no traffic on the road at 2:30AM.
Basically, he used the white line on the road as a guidance tool.
“Some people ask me how I can stand to work all night,” he
said. “Coffee and cocaine. Just kidding.” As we neared my house, I mentioned
that it was across from a well-known quick stop. “If it’s open, I’ll get myself
a beverage,” he said. It wasn’t, he didn’t,
and I made it home at 3:30AM, all in one piece. I wish my driver the best of
luck, and slightly more prudence. And I will never fly out of Vancouver again, Donald and Mickey be damned.
See the video:
http://vimeo.com/71997462.
This was my first Pride parade, and I've never been to a parade or event where so many people were warm and welcoming regardless of which side of the bed you slept on. 
