I now know, once and for all, where my home is – it’s where my heart is, just like “they” told me; as soon as I stepped
I had never been so happy to see a deicing machine!
off the plane into YVR (Vancouver airport in Richmond, BC – a Greater Vancouver Area “bourough”, as they call such sprawling urban spaces) and I was met by friendly people. I almost missed my flight because of my sister’s antics back in Winnipeg. The woman security workers were on shift in my hometown (I’ve noticed these shifts tend to be sex segregated, and I wonder if this is purposefully done…bizzare) so I was not violated, but as I was dressed well as I like to for plane rides, I was harassed. I think the woman who frisked me – twice 
– was distinctly envious that I was not wearing the same blue latex gloves as her. I almost fainted when I heard “last call for passenger Scars R. Stories to Vancouver, we are closing the doors to the plane”. I had the other gals, who were fierce but more reasonable (they did not even confiscate a small box of push pins I had in my carry on luggage), page West Jet to tell them I was held up at security. A lovely airline worker (I’ve always wanted to work for an airline – it would work well with the strange hours I keep, too…note to self: look into that, until [NOT GRAD] school begins in September) came to calm me down and run to the gate with me. No, the doors were not closing, damn staff, trying to break me – half of the messy mass of passengers, speaking loudly about Canadian cities as usual, Calgary, Oh, Toronto? Edmonton, eh? – I am embarrassed for my country for a moment as it takes ten for me to get to my seat at the back of the plane, despite the urgency of my tardiness. Meow, meow, meow. Poor Penelope is afraid of carrier-confinement since " >the accident; I try to explain my Aunt is not flying the plane, but I don’t think she is convinced. Either that or she’s as pissed off as I am that they’re showing Kung Fu Panda rather than Contagion on this flight!
But after half an hour or so at 37,000 ft. we both doze off, and awake to the
Sun Setting in the West from Flight 612
glorious sound of a voice on a speaker saying, “We are now making our descent into the Vancouver International Airport…If you’re going somewhere else, safe travels, if Vancouver’s home, lucky you!”
Lucky me, indeed.
“Typical Vancouver weather for this time of year, rainy and seven degrees.”
Ahhhh.
Reunited
My first half-week has gone by at the speed of light. I guess time doesn’t seem to have slowed to a crawl when you are happy. On the second night, an old, very close friend, B., came to visit. She stayed the night at my apartment, and I don’t know if it was showing her my place and the city, yummy food, yummier conversation, and yummiest company, or the way she made me feel okay about everything when we discussed our not-yet-permanent careers, but I loved just being here.
In the morning I felt this even more, and was moved to tears. I loved the cumulus clouds and the clothes that were too expensive to buy and I think I stopped to talk to every street vendor I came across, including a beautiful Asian girl selling feather earrings I may even resume my gypsy job during the winter. I bought a 2012 (2012!!! ) “Witches Calendar” from another vendor. Commercial Drive felt alive again, we had coffee and smoothies at Cafe Deux Soleils and I bought a painted silk skirt at Paranada for $5.00. I did not even realize that it was New Year’s Eve until someone mentioned it and asked about my plans:
“Uh, my kitty and Netflix?”
I don’t think I’ll ever go out for New Year’s Eve again. If this lady’s going clubbing, it has got to be spontaneous, not some date planned a month in advance that involves buying a new outfit and the belief that you have to have the best time ever on that specific night. B. and I agreed on this. A night of meaningful conversation, like we had the night before, could be a million times more fun than a night of dancing (though those are awesome, too).
After B. left, telling me that she could definitely see herself living here (please 
move here, honey!!! ) I started to nod off on the couch but I forced myself up and back outside – the clouds were lifting and the sun was coming out of hiding. They let me exchange the boots that gave me blisters for jeans and a skirt at Mintage, a vintage store, even though I lacked a receipt, and I got a tip off on a place that sell’s locally made artisans’ work. Back at my place, my perfect little bachelor apartment, I started to feel nauseous. Was I so happy I wanted to throw up? I did so in a bag and went to dreamland, where not a night terror was in sight. I feel better this morning though, 6:09 am, ahead of the rest of the continent. What will I do today? It will probably involve making art. I feel inspired here. I feel like I’m home.
That is not something everyone has. And I feel damn lucky that this is home. Winnipeg, you may have beat me down, but you did not beat down my spirit, and this time I’m sticking with my intuition, and never going back again.
New Day Dawning Part II (2012)
