Back from Vancouver – the weekend before last was Clint & Andrea’s wedding in (not so) sunny Vancouver. A great time was had by all!
Buy before I get into that, here’s something else to talk about. So it’s six months now since I moved into this apartment on quaint Patchin Place:
lovely, quaint, but lacking any sort of laundry facilities. The only option is to take my clothes to the dry cleaners and use the “wash and fold” service, which was costing me about twenty bucks a week to do laundry. TWENTY A WEEK! Bananas! Well, it WAS twenty; I went to my regular guy a while ago and he had a signed taped to his door saying “back soon”. Well, I was already late for work, so I went to a different dry cleaners – one that looked a little fancier, but hey, it’s wash and fold; the prices can’t be THAT different, can they?
Oh, no. Check the bill I got when I picked it up.
Yeah, that’s right; a total of SIXTY DOLLARS to do two bags of laundry! a THIRTEEN DOLLAR CHARGE to hang-dry some jeans and a couple of shirts! A TEN DOLLAR SURCHARGE to wash a BATHMAT! “oh sir”, says the guy when I wave the bill under his nose and ask in the politest possible way “wtf”. “we’d never wash your bathmat with your regular clothes”. No, of course, you wouldn’t want something my feet have touched mixed up with my boxer shorts, which have spent the entire day sitting next to my ASS. That would be horrible! I put the god damned bath mat IN WITH the socks and boxers thinking they’d get done in a seperate load. I guess they didn’t get the hint. The bag that is all white, the one in which EVERYTHING IN IT is white, that can get washed as one load – preferably with hot water & bleach? Oh no no, they didn’t get that little hint. They picked the bathmat OUT of my specifically arranged bag and gave it the regal treatment. Shit, for ten bucks, I hope it got a “happy ending” while it was in there. Can you imagine washing your bathmat with your socks? The horror!
Yeah, so that was pretty much the last straw. I read a load of reviews and then wandered down to this electronics & appliance superstore called JR to pick up an apartment sized washer by Haier that is absolutely AWESOME!
The thing just jacks into the sink (it comes with and adapter you screw into the faucet, and this little clever speed attachment snaps on to it) and you clip the drain tube on to the edge of the bathrub. Presto, you’re good to go! It’ll do a couple of jeans, OR about 5 shirts, OR a whack of socks and boxers which I just hang dry on a folding rack. It’s super quiet, does a cycle in about 35 minutes, and to keep it hidden from my superintendent (who stops by now and then to throw those stupid blue pucks in my toilet for some odd reason) I stash it by the closet and throw a blanket over it. It looks JUST like a washing machine with a blanket on top! See?
So yeah, big excitement over here in NYC. I’m now totally self sufficient. No more twenty bucks a week or sixty dollar highway robbery for me!
So Vancouver! First time home in seven months! Man, how was that, you ask?
Man, it seems so long ago. I was packing up my life, selling everything, wrapping one project while handing off another. I literally left work at 6 and had a goodbye party at 7 and was on a plane for New York the next day at 10am. As busy as I was, I was trying to frantically pack in as much of my favorite Vancouver stuff as I could; one last breakfast at the Tomahawk, sitting at the bar reading the paper; one last dinner at my favorite restaurant for a big plate of my prized Spaghetti Quattro. Two days before I left I drove my skis over to my Godmother’s house on the North Shore to stash them in her garage, I took a few hours to enjoy some night skiing on the local hill. I remember thinking “they won’t have THIS in New York, I better enjoy it while I can!”.
I mean, come on. Seriously, in 40 minutes I’m up a ski hill (one you’d laugh at in the West Coast, but drive four or five hours to get to here) that literally hangs over the entire city. It’s amazing. I shot a few little videos, too; you can listen to my voice. There’s a quiver in there; the subtext is clearly “man, I’m going to miss this”.
Well, it’s weird. Vancouver’s great. I mean, come on. Look at this place. City by the sea. Surrounded by mountains. This is the view I got as I left Vancouver; picturesque, beautiful.
I remember sitting on the runway thinking “I can’t wait to get home”. Vancouver is great. But it’s not for me anymore. I mean, it’s where my family and bestest friends in the world are, so I’m sure I’ll be back. But when someone says “where’s home”, it’s here. It’s New York. I remember sitting on the plane actually feeling guilty; I was thinking “Shouldn’t I be sad? I should be upset that I’m leaving my home?” but let me tell you, when I got off the plane, and got on the E train and came up out of the subway in the Village and just stood there? It was like the city just gave me a big hug and said “hey pal, welcome back”.
I do, indeed, heart NY.
Anyhow, Clint’s wedding. Great time. Wonderful setting – Eric’s pad & backyard was the perfect location. Totally casual, yet very classy. Intimate and warm, and perfectly executed. The rain stopped when it needed to and started when we were too drunk to care. Check out this service:
I got to hang and drink with my lads, which is always a treat.
I also got to see Andy Dalimore ride to the wedding on a scooter while wearing a fantastic gold suit.
Clint & Andrea both looked amazing. Check out this snazzy ring – it’s got a “knife edge”. Clint’s now got the upper hand in a bar brawl!
Good time had by all!
The flight home, as I said, was an interesting experience. I don’t often fly over the Rockies during the day, but it’s a great sight. You literally feel like you could leap out of the plane and land in the snowpack on some of the higher peaks – they’re so bloody tall. The aquamarine lakes are splayed out below, glistening in the sunlight. It’s really grand.
So there you have it; washing machine, whimsical weddings, and residential epiphanies. What more can you ask for in a blog post?
So Adios, Vancouver. Thanks for the good times. I’ll be at the deli picking up a fresh bagel if you need me.