Choose your own (theatre) adventure

C.E. Coughlan

On Friday night I went to see Hive 3: a show in a warehouse space on the BCIT campus with twelve theatre companies performing simultaneously.  If you go, you better be ready to interact, because like it or not, you’re going to be part of the ‘shows.’

Someone hands you an info guide at the door that lists the twelve performances with a brief description and a bunch of symbols beside each.  At the bottom is a legend that explains what the symbols mean: confined spaces, darkness, difficult exit, flashing lights, loud noise, mild group participation, physical interaction, social interaction, wheelchair assistance necessary.

Gulp.

I don’t recommend the bar area if you’re looking to hide, that’s where you’ll most likely get approached, like my friend Lisa did, by a bearded man wearing a set of wireless headphones.  Throughout their stilted conversation it became obvious that someone somewhere was telling him what to say.  He told a joke that went like this:

“Knock, Knock.”
“Who’s there?”
“Panther.”
“Panther who?”
“Panther on or off, I’m going swimming.”

While the joke wasn’t very funny, his reaction to having to tell it was.  Eventually, he linked arms with her and lead her away.  I have no idea what happened to her next, but I wasn’t on my own for long.  A woman dressed as a doctor who had been lurking nearby came over and said, “I’m afraid you’ve been exposed to a virus and need to come with me to the infirmary”.  This interactive 'show' took place outside in a tented area with space heaters, elevator music was playing on a small stereo by the door and the receptionist, a man in a white coat wearing a face mask, told me to use the hand sanitizer and to take a seat where six other people sat waiting.  Someone giggled.  A notice board in front of us read: Polite Reminder: Quarantine Zone.  Please refrain from: Smoking, Eating, Drinking, Loud talking, Spitting on the floor, Suggestive dancing, Annoying the receptionist.  

Inside, we lay down on cots and were wrapped in blankets.  The nurses put lavender-scented eye masks over our eyes and headphones on our ears and a story began, a story in which we all died a slow, sad and beautiful death.  At times, I smelled evergreen and lilac – they must have been using aromatherapy – and at one point, the mask was removed and the nurses held mirrors to our faces and gradually pulled them away to simulate what you might see as you leave your body.  

Back in the building, I watched a burlesque strip tease, reverse bidding in which an audience member got his head shaved; I got interviewed, saw a man on a treadmill running through Iraq, listened in on a phone conversation about a woman passing out in front of the Dalai Lama and ‘accidentally’ smelling his armpit, went to a birthday party, and rode a bike during a puppet show.

Not bad for one evening – and apparently I only saw half the shows.

The Rapid Denoument of the Vancouver Olympics

Thad McIlroy

It’s been a week since it ended, or rather since the only part that millions

were interested in seeing ended (the Paralympics start on March 12, not

that the media or the politicians can muster any interest in this token event).

 

It took me a week or so from the start of the real Olympics to recover

from the three hundred First Nations’ dancers surrounding by awkwardly

shuffling Caucasian Star Wars storm troopers, who I assumed had tasers

at the ready should anyone pause in the festivities.

 

 

I still haven’t memorized the names of the corney mascots. I found

them on the VANOC site: Miga, the sea bear, Quatchi, the Sasquatch,

and Sumi, the animal spirit. Not memorable.

 

My shock at the opening ceremonies was soon to be overwhelmed by

my horror at the closing ceremonies. I still wake up at night screaming

at the memory of those giant beavers, which looked like they had

drowned a month before and become horrendously bloated.

 

 

(Note the caption: “Entertainers dressed as lumberjacks perform.”

Aside from the fact that there’s hardly a lumberjack in sight, just bloated

beavers and a dancing maple leaf, I wondered also whether in fact they

were lumberjacks dressed as entertainers performing – think Monty Python.)

 

Anyway, things deteriorated from there, and soon we were the laughingstock of the world. What could they have been thinking in Tanzania or Tajikistan after this:

 

 

I won’t even mention Mr. Bubbly.

 

However, the point of this blog entry is not the spectacle itself so much as the aftermath. I went downtown on a few errands the morning after the close and

thought I’d entered the Twilight Zone. The city center was all but deserted.

Talk about “Apologies, but I must eat and run!”

 

 

No standing on ceremony at London Drugs. We’ve got too much leftover

plush, the Paralympic visitors are not going to snatch it up, and we’re

clearing it out of here – fast!

 

The ploy was a success. It was a mob scene:

 

 

I asked one excited buyer what she expected to do with her 50%-off

trophies and she said immediately, “Sell them on eBay!” Disappointing

news for her there. While the last winter Olympics four years ago in

Torino, Italy, did not seem to generate any squishy dolls (possibly because

they lacked Italian versions of Miga, Quatchi and Sumi), I can report that

the “official” pins are mostly up for bid at $3.99. The few available items

of clothing appeared to have retained their value, but will not make anyone rich.

 

Meanwhile a display of London Drugs’ half-price plush got lonely:

 

 

But not for long:

 

 

Some of this junk was not genuinely endorsed souvenirs, but it was

heading out anyway:

 

 

It took some of the other stores and restaurants a few

hours to catch on, but they soon were smitten with the clearance spirit:

 

 

 

 

I love it that below you can still see “Welcome World” under “Good-Bye, World!”

 

 

Apparently Steamworks does not think of the Paralympic participants

as from this world.

 

Perhaps they’re more open-minded at the other Steamworks in

Vancouver, over on W. Pender “…a gym/sauna/bathhouse for men

18 years and older with private membership options. Now open to

the public, Vancouver is open 24/7, 365 days a year! Steamworks is

a clean, safe place to hang out, work out, meet guys, watch porn, play,

or whatever.” Welcome World (or aleast the male half).

 

The Hudson’s Bay Company, “the oldest commercial corporation in

North America,” purchased in 2008 by the U.S. firm NRDC Equity

Partners (from another American firm, The InterTech Group),

was declared “the…Online (emphasis mine) Store for the Vancouver

2010 Olympic and Paralympic Games.” VANOC couldn’t quite bring

itself to awarding the entire retail franchise to one American company,

so The Bay created “The Olympic Superstore” at Granville and

W. Georgia Street “a one-stop shopping destination for all official licensed

merchandise of the Vancouver 2010 Olympic and Paralympic Winter Games.”

 

Trying to exit the SkyTrain during the games I walked inadvertently into The Bay

and I thought for a moment that I’d stumbled into New York’s Macy’s on Christmas Eve. The escalator on the main floor from the Granville Station had been blocked off with steel construction fencing: management had moved the sole entrance to Seymour Street, where there was a huge line-up patrolled by police and security.

 

The escalator to the second floor was broken. I stood in frenzied despair for several minutes, pushing at the barriers. Throngs of shoppers stared at me with a combination of fear and puzzlement. Two young women appeared suddenly beside me, but apparently found humour rather than peril in the situation. Finally I summoned the strength of the truly desperate and managed to move one of the fences just far

enough to slip through. Now the shoppers were looking thoroughly frightened. A terrorist perhaps. I stumbled around the official merchandise, searching frantically for an exit. A bright-faced uniformed young woman approached me and offered me an Olympic pin with the VISA credit card logo attached. I grabbed it while blurting out, “How the hell do I get out of here?” She cheerfully pointed to the Seymour street doorway and I ran for it, jostling many, and did whatI was told during the closing ceremonies the night before, as a true Canadian: I said “sorry” twenty times

while I pushed the zombie-like shoppers out of my way.

 

Outside the main door, gasping for breath, I found this sign in the window:

 

 

I was reminded that the Olympics are all about the heights of human endeavour, about being your best.

 

It took The Bay a few days to get with the program and realize that the disabled

and their families were not going to shop in sufficient numbers to clear all that crap out of the store. By Wednesday I spotted:

 

 

But let me leave the final word to she who looks after (most of) our Olympic athletes:

 

 

I guess Presbyterians don’t care much about the Paralympics either.

An Awfully Canadian Occurrence

Dan Post

          I couldn’t help but think of Shane Koyczan’s poem “We Are More” this morning as I watched the bus driver purposely ignore a man trying to get her attention to open the doors and let him on. I was thinking about this whole Canadian identity thing, this supposed politeness we are proud enough apparently to broadcast to the whole world viz a vis a poorly-executed closing ceremonies, and was beginning to doubt it’s verity as I watched him whistling, yelling, and flailing his arms to no avail. Why didn’t he just bang the window? That would surely have got her attention she was pretending to withhold. A block away and he hadn’t given up chasing down the bus to the next stop.

“He’s still running” a middle-aged passenger behind the driver said. “It’s so pathetic.”

She was laughing in a twisted way, but I suspected it was only to cover up her true feelings of sympathy. I could see she was concerned, but also trying to avoid confrontation with the surly driver.

Four Plastic Buckets and Two Sticks

Becky McEachern

 Apparently four plastic buckets, two sticks, a wine bottle and a cow bell spell love. Here's a street performer in Waikiki, Oahu, to convince you.

The Day After

Dan Post

Sitting up and stretching, my memory is jolted repeatedly with little flashes as various scenes of joyous pandemonium replay themselves in my mind's eye: Red and white arms in the air. Tubas. Bodysuits. Beer cans. Oversized Roberto Luongo heads. Gold.

Too many people in this city griped about the Olympics prior to their arrival, touting them as a pointless waste of money and a distraction from issues that matter, like homelessness, war, and even an inconvenience for their commute to work.

Some Unexpected Hawaii

Becky McEachern

 I knew to expect the gorgeous beaches, lush rainforest, and toasty weather, and I found them. But what I found and didn't expect was a whole semi-permanent community of tenting homeless along the Waianae Coast of Oahu, the least touristy area. 

After reading about a volunteer garbage pickup here, I drove up along the coast to see it for myself. There's a recent huge resort development that has started nearby, which is causing a big stir. 

Associated Press has an interesting article about it. Everyone seemed to have a pickup truck and lots of stuff. This image of homeless was different from what I'm used to, living in downtown Vancouver. 

A related thing of interest is these baskets I found attached to some of the garbage cans. The point would be to not through food in the bins in the first place so that people don't have to dig through garbage to pick it out again. Their website about "eating in public" www.nomoola.com is a bit out there but an interesting read as long as you're ready to skim. 

"O Canada"

Kristin Cheung

It's the song you've learned to sing when you're in grade school during a school assembly. It's the song that's been played 14 times during these Olympics. But when was the last time you sang it with thousands of other hockey fans?

Drumlines at the Olympics

Kristin Cheung

First: It was a couple of 8 year old boys causing a ruckus on the streets with some noisemakers at around noon.

Second: It was a high school band marching down the street in the around 2pm. Strange? But not really, since its the Olympic season.

Third: On my way home from wandering after Olympic people watching, I hear the same drums I heard earlier. Theres a huge crowd around them, are they buskers? Loud and quite talented buskers in the middle of Robson and Granville? No, they're the DDT Drumline, a high school band from Vancouver Island, there's about 12 of these kids. (probably the most interesting street performers I've seen yet, and I've seen Batman doing tricks from his used suitcase). Their infectious drumming made the crowd wanting more, but like seasoned professionals they kept on marching along. Down Robson street where the crowd got bigger and music got louder. Where were they marching to? Back home to Duncan, BC, I assume.

Can Olympic Ice Dancing Change Your Life?

Patty Osborne

I was late getting to the Ice Dancing finals last night and they started without me, even though about half the audience was on my bus, and by the time I walked the half-mile or so through security and into the Coliseum, two pairs had already skated.

My Olympic houseguest, who treated me to the show, was already there so she filled me in on what I’d missed and, as the evening went on, she helped me understand how to do well in ice dancing:

1. Stay close together, holding hands whenever possible
2. Synchronize your twirls
3. Go fast
4. Balance on as few blades as possible, as many times as you can
5. Costumes don't count so it's okay to wear a shirt with fluttery cape-like extensions on it (even if it looks ridiculous)

Things you miss in the TV version:

1. You get to see ALL the skaters, even the other Canadian couple, Vanessa Crowe and Paul Poirier, managed a Titanic-style pose with Vanessa standing balanced on Paul’s hip while they sped across the ice.
2. The audience claps for everyone, they just clap harder for the Canadians.
3. Hardly anyone drinks beer at Ice Dancing.
4. A bunch of cute little girls sit obediently in a row at rink level, waiting their turn to skate out and pick up whatever the crowd throws onto the ice after each dance. Two girls go out at a time and the whole row moves along so the next pair is ready to go.
5. The intermission music included the Rolling Stones singing "Honky-Tonk Woman", BTO singing "Taking Care of Business" and someone singing "That's the way I like it, uh huh."
6.  Zambonis are awesome.
7.  It takes less than 15 minutes for a handful of blue-jacketed people to roll out carpets and then push the three-piece medal podium out onto the ice and fit them together, ready for the ceremony.
8. Shaking a cowbell instead of clapping may seem like a good idea, but not when you're inside a building it's happening right behind your left ear.
9. The Mounties look great against the white ice as they stand at attention ready to raise the flags.

My houseguest had to duck out before the awards ceremony but I stayed behind, although my eyes did not mist over as did those of the news commentator who said, the next morning, that there "wasn't a dry eye in the house." After that we were herded out of the park by more people in blue jackets who kept urging us toward Hastings Street, although a few renegades who wanted to go to a different street were allowed (with the admonishment that we "don't tell anyone") to walk along an ill-lit and twisty path to our bus stop at the other end of the park.

This morning a couple of people asked me if last night was exciting and I have to say it didn't feel like a real competition. Everyone skated well (most achieved a "personal best") and everyone got lots of applause, but there were no evil geniuses out there. It was fun rather than exciting and even though I heard the phrase "once-in-a-lifetime opportunity" several times, it wasn't life-changing—except that I did sing the national anthem for the first time in about 40 years—maybe that's changed my life.

DaVinci Doodles Draw Lengthy Lines

Dan Post

You can get yourself into a big ol’ line for just about anything here in Vancouver during the Olympics, from concerts and pizza, to a million dollar coin or red mittens.