Today I spent a little time in Vancouver for the first time since late November. I had to pick up my daughters from the Airport. I parked our hideous pickup at Scott Road Station and took the SkyTrain downtown, aiming to find my way to YVR.
This was easy to do because I like walking.
And when you really like something, it's hard to see why people think it's so weird. My students in Hope laughed at me when I'd walk the five blocks to downtown Hope for groceries; my fellow teachers raised an eyebrow when I told them that I regularly walked five kilometers from my home to the Mall of Arabia in 6 October City; when I told party-goers last weekend that I walked an hour and 10 minutes to the party, they looked at me like I must be hiding something. But I'm not. I enjoy my walking time. I really do.
But back to my story. I made it downtown and meandered a little.
And I got back on the SkyTrain to YVR. When I met my daughters and mother-in-law at Arrivals, they wanted to go get some food with some other in-law members of the family. They chose the Cactus Club in Richmond. They didn't have room in their car, so they offered to send someone else to come out and pick me up. And I said "No." I wanted to ride the SkyTrain and walk.
And by the time I was finished my SkyTrain ride to Richmond, which only took 20 minutes or so, I'd written this rant:
I'm the #WalkingSnob. Unless #WalkSnob is better. How would I know?
I don't know how to hashtag.
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