First of all, let me say welcome, and to compliment all of you on your fine choice of fanny-packs this season. A Louis Vuitton fanny-pack remains a fanny-pack, but you have nonetheless raised the bar. Somewhat.
Travel apparel is not why I am writing this letter however. Rather, I felt we should lay some ground rules if all of us are to enjoy the summer in this city. Please know that I want you to enjoy the summer and the city I call home. I love where I live, and I love that you all want to come here.
However, I feel now is the time to discuss some boundaries that can go a long way to ensuring I don't inadvertently (or advertently) end up kicking any of you into the inner harbour. Primarily, my biggest concern is freedom of movement. You may have noticed it is very crowded on the sidewalks as of late, and I expect this situation to continue well into September. There's just no getting around it, and therein lies my problem.
People. Friends. Tourists. Americans. When you see a young(ish) woman over six feet tall in her heels, dressed to the nines and walking in a straight line towards you at a pace that can only be described as "aggressive," then might I suggest stepping to the side for the love of all that is holy and pure?
While I appreciate all 18 members of your extended family are on holiday together for the first time in memory, is it really necessary that all 18 members form an impenetrable line across the sidewalk, like some kind of familial game of Red Rover, while Grandma sets the pace? Is it necessary? Really?
When you see a young(ish) woman dressed to the nines and walking agressively toward you, it means she is late for martinis with the gays. She needs to get through, and the appropriate response would be to allow her to do so.
An inappropriate response is to force her to walk into oncoming traffic, freeze in terror at the oncoming amazon or waste any more of her time by engaging her in a sidewalk traffic waltz.
The same protocol follows if the young(ish) woman is wearing jeans and a halter top because this means she is late meeting the heteros for an evening of dancing and trying to get laid. Conversely, if you hear clicking footsteps behind you that do not appear to be slowing to the pace you are currently keeping, I also suggest moving the hell out of the way.
As mentioned, I love my city and I understand how enjoyable the experience can be as you discover the many wonders, particularly through the eyes of your digital camera. In just one short block there is a living coin-operated mermaid who plays the accordian, some dude dressed like Darth Vader who plays the fiddle and a living statue named Plaster Man, to say nothing of the Korean guy who sings classic oldies with a very strong accent while accompanying himself on the guitar.
I particularily enjoy his rendition of 'Hey Jude,' given the improvised spoken-word chorus he tosses in the middle. "Hey Joooode! Where are you Joooode? I have been looking - I can not find you Joooode!." It is not to be missed.
However, I feel strongly that you, as tourists, are taking advantage of my good-nature and patience with regards to creating your photographic memories. You are not Annie Liebowitz. Your snapshot of your kid standing in front of a flower basket is not going on the cover of Vanity Fair, nor on the walls of a gallery.
I encourage you to wait until after your kid finishes picking his nose, but in the meantime, if there is a line-up of unfailingly polite Canadians waiting to cross the now bare patch of sidewalk between your camera and kid so that you can take your picture, then for the love of Chippendale dancers could you press the goddamned button?
In fairness, I'm not completly innocent. In exchange for some consideration on your part, I will also make an effort. Admittedly, I have not been as patient lately when waiting for you all to take photographs. In fact, many of you have likely been dismayed by a blurry shot of a very tall woman striding through your frame. I apologize for this, and while I can't promise it will never happen again, I can probably try a little harder.
I would also like to apologize for that one time I passed some gas while trying to get through a crowd of people from New Jersey. If you were the father who yelled at his son for having passed the gas -- I'm sorry. It was actually me, but in my defense I've been eating a lot more vegetables lately. Again, I can't promise it will never happen again but I can at least be less gleeful that somebody else took the blame.
Finally, and while this may seem like a contradiction, if you see me storming by don't hesitate to ask me for directions. I really do love having you all here, and I will stop to talk with you without leading you astray.
I will tell you the best places to eat, the best places to shop and if anybody ever asks, the best places to kiss in Victoria. It's looking doubtful I will ever kiss anybody again, but that's another story that neither of us have time for. Thank you for listening, and enjoy your holiday. And get out of my way!
Love ya,
Bambi
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