|At the end of Granville Street|
Clearly I should have asked for assistance in dressing this morning as I have put my black leggings on inside out and the black socks that I stole from R's side of the sock drawer have enormous grey "X"s on the ankles which are evident for all to see.
I had no idea how bare bones this WestJet flight would be - a more than four hour flight and no food, no movie? Just the occasional soft drink and a couple of cookies? Buy food you say? My cheap gene rebelled ... okay, well maybe just a turkey with brie sandwich and a coke... I notice, with some trepidation, not one but two babies adjacent to me, one on the left, one on the right. Oh no, I have turned into a person who gets rattled by a baby's crying on a plane. Luckily, the cute little butterball named Sophia next to me is delightful and never utters a cry - she even holds my hand for part of the plane ride.
Compelled to watch TV, or read, I get my fill of the E True Hollywood Story on the Kardashians (shh, please don't tell the husband), What Not to Wear and the prognostications of the brain trust on The View.
I know "a guy who knows a guy" (actually my cousin S's husband D) who used to work for an upscale hotel and was able to get me a very good rate on a room at the Hotel Vancouver in downtown Vancouver. Can you say lux?? Another offer was kindly extended by the Italian Cultural Centre for a discounted rate on a Holiday Inn in East Van near the Centre. But even I know about East Van...
Okay, confession time, ALC is a nervous traveler and I have rarely had occasion to travel without R who is excellent at managing directions, transportation, etc ... so I wanted a safe hotel in a good area so that I could sleep well at night (which is also a problem when I travel). I was very grateful to D for making this connection for me.
|The writers Caterina Edwards and Genni Gunn|
|Receiving the Bressani Prize for Short Fiction|