Getting Old On Granville

Vancouver, British Columbia. Quite possibly the most beautiful place on earth. It is a city bustling with local business, lush green parks and mountains white capped with snow. A city full of culture, people and vibrancy. A place that I call home. And if you ever want to completely ruin your heart felt relationship with the city of Vancouver, hit Granville Street at 2am. You would think after 10 years of watching this place go down hill I would have learned my lesson. WTF.

Once in a blue moon my girlfriends and I will get together and go for an exquisite meal in Yaletown followed by a nice Pinot Gris and then usually our beds. Sometimes if we are feeling extra brainless we decide to take our dance party to the final level and hit the one... the only... The Granville Street Strip. WHY!?!?!??

It always seems like a great idea in the moment. Then once you get there and see the grinding teeth,
e-tardasians, angry east indians and super annoying drunk ass white girls with their purses in a circle on the dance floor, you find yourself wondering, why am I here? Why not just hit Celeberties where everyone is super gay and happy? You NEVER hear about angry gays or steroid monkey's on Davie Street. Gay people are far to busy celebrating life, love and rainbows.

My favorite thing about Granville Street is the douchbags and douchbagettes. Last night I had a 12 year old Snookie look alike, kick me and one of my best friends off her "reserved empty bench". Her and her other Jersey Shore cast member wanted to sit their fat asses down and needed a little more room to do so. After we politely left, they storm after us proceeding to ask what we thought was so funny. I realize in this moment they are trying to fight us and can not STOP laughing. I am 30 years old, I am standing in a bar across from two drunk, raging 19 year old girls that want to fight me for a bench?!?!? Of course I'm laughing you tool... that is some funny shit.

Only on Granville Street would you see not one but TWO couples in a bar within 5 feet of each other getting it on with such intent, the bouncer has to ask them to take their porno outside. Only on Granville street would you see 50-100 juice heads in tight white t-shirts that look as though they would be better suited on a 12 year old boy. Only on Granville Street would you wait 45 minutes in the line at Pita Pit while 18 different stumbling fools ask you to bumb a smoke (you can afford a drink at crappy Caprice, but you can't afford a pack of smokes dick wad?)

I spent what I believe to be my last night on Granville Street this weekend. The new block aids make me feel a little like a lovely house cat caged in with a bunch of wild animals.

Ppphhhfff I of course was always the civilized 19 year old that never picked fights, smoked or ate pita pit....

Laugh, Cry, Love, Read.

Me