Back to the beginning: Vancouver

In the beginning, there was Calgary. And God said, "let there be West." And so it was.
In a little over 10 hours, sans trailer, which was left in Calgary for fuel economy and uselessness purposes, I drove into old Vancouver town, crashing directly into old pal Nathan, and his lovely wife and son Rachel and little Augusten (Gusto). Fortunately, all survived.
Nathan, despite quite a few years of marriage, is much the same--vitriolic (if that means acidic and smart-mouthed), balding, and fun. Ever-present is our childish meaningless banter, where we lob mindless tripe back and forth until Nathan folds and says something along the lines of "I always love these conversations we have" or "I don't know what we're talking about."
Rachel, my severely pregnant host, kept me company during the early, early mornings when Nathan was working as an abusive English-as-a-second-language teacher. For breakfast all three days we had eggies and toast, as directed by gusto, who knew every step required for producing said food, and dictated in no uncertain terms to his mother what they were. "Toast in there." "Push it down." "Eggies in water." "Wipe face." "Gusto make pooty bum." All these phrases could be heard every morning. Often in that order. And usually using only the consonants G and B, with other interesting modifications. "Eggie in awa (water)." "But (put) it in WoodyBuzz 2 (Toy Story 2)" "Widdo Bear (incomprehensible episode name) (Little Bear mindless tripe watched over and over again (but only once a day, for the sake of Rachel's sanity)).
What a cute kid, though. Responded well to teasing, and became fairly good at making stupid faces and opening his mouth while chewing food with little prompting. Kids seem to know what's inappropriate, and also understand that it's far more entertaining than staying still or being obedient. Obedience is obviously the role of the parents -- again, "eggie in awa."
Another classic of Gateway history lives in Van, good old Karen Liebel. Once entertainment editor, now masters of book-sorting student, in the nine years since she left Edmonton, went to Japan, and came back to Vancouver, she has changed almost none. Just like old times, I put her, Nathan (her former editor) and I together, and we were belligerent to eachother until we became drunk enough to profess our undying love for one another. Perhaps not. But drunk enough to speak civilly to eachother. Sober, these two are entertaining as well, with subtle and not-so-subtle insults flying constantly, but drunk, they're hilarious. An example? Well, we spent about half an hour abusing a bronze statue of a horse (check out the photos on facebook) and ... um, well, I don't remember why this was really funny, because I think we were two pitchers in at this point. MY point, as you may have guessed, is that these two were exactly the same. Nathan may be a little less acidic now, and Karen a little happier than she was nine years ago, but otherwise, it might as well have been 1998, and we might as well have been in RATT, the U of A's crappy 7th-story watering hole/pukatorium.
So, I visited the heck out of them, had that harrowing East Hastings experience (read a few posts down) and then, on my way out of town, did a driving tour of Stanley Park ( which looked much like Halifax's Public Gardens, which also had a ton of trees knocked down by big winds), got slowed down (but not lost) in North Van, and then finally got to cross the Second Narrows Steelworkers Memorial Bridge, as immortalized in Stompin' Tom Connors' song, The Bridge Came Tumbling Down (or something), which I listened to three times while bogged down in traffic on the bridge.
And there began the beginning of the eastward trek. Next up: thirteen hours straight of mountain highways.