Maura's Illuminated Manuscript

[I wrote this entry yesterday morning.]

Greetings from Vancouver’s Pacific Central Station! For the first time in years, I’ve engaged in that antique ritual called business travel.

When you buy an Amtrak ticket for a civilized time of day from Seattle to Vancouver and back, they put you on a bus. That’s suboptimal thanks to Seattle area traffic, but I’ve had worse trips.

The Canadian border patrol people were all visibly wearing bulletproof vests. I don’t recall that the last time I was up here. Sheesh.

The actual meetings themselves? Mercifully not boring. Less mercifully, I think my next six months at work are going to be pretty hairy. It’s one of those situations where you have to rebuild the airplane while it’s in the air, and it’s just barely staying up with a lot of babysitting. And that task is complicated by the expectations of sales, marketing, et al. But hey, at least we’ve got management committed to the project.

There are excellent sushi rolls to be had at Hello Sushi. I found an entire block of cheapish eats, mostly Asian, a couple of blocks east of the Vancouver office.

What do I think of Vancouver the city? It looks bigger than Seattle, but raw numbers say it isn’t. The city proper is roughly the same size, and as a metropolitan area, Seattle is about twice the size. It’s certainly denser, cleaner, and twee-er. As I told a co-worker, Vancouver has the Aquabus and the steam clock; Seattle has a cold war air raid siren and the gum wall. I kinda love that about Seattle: we don’t care overmuch what anyone else thinks about us.

Speaking of urban density, I can now add a Vancouver transit card to my collection. Years ago a Vancouver resident once told me, “We love our killer robot trains,” perhaps referring to a long-ago accident on the Skytrain. But the trains are indeed fully automated, and that means they run at a frequency that, at least in North America, you only see at rush hour in the largest cities. Given that Seattle’s network, like many others, is newer than the Skytrain, there must have been a reason why we didn’t copy Vancouver. Edited to add: I have discovered the reason. The Skytrain is completely grade-separated, being either elevated or underground. Parts of Seattle’s light rail are at grade where all kind of nonsense can happen.

After the last meeting at work, I went into the Fluevog store in Gastown, which was conveniently on the way to dinner a few days earlier. I thanked them for selling me the Grand Nationals after the whole US had sold out. Then I learned that not only are they back; the shorter versions are back, too! I managed to resist those, but I did add a few styles to my wish list. Not that I’m immune to temptation. I bought a pair, the Monza in silver. They’re beautiful, they’re expensive, and I don’t need them. I am, of course, planning my Pride Eve outfit around them. And planning to sell a pair of ‘Vogs that don’t quite fit me.

So I wore my Fluevog Francesca boots yesterday. They're heels, but they're chunky, stable, tropospheric, work-appropriate heels. That didn't prevent them from making my left knee sore.

Dammit, I wore those boots to go out dancing the night before the Folsom Street Fair, just barely over a year ago. Don't tell me I've wrecked my knees within that time to the point that I can't wear any heels anymore.

Current SFDs:

• two long velvet skirts - for warmth
• red turtle neck under a black Dead Can Dance t-shirt
• my witchiest jewelry
• not-too-wild makeup
• my Ariat cowboy boots, which are hella comfy and accommodate the two pairs of thick socks I'm wearing

Ordered electrolumincescent (EL) wire & bike blinkies from Seattle Lumin. I'm determined to be adequately lit up this year. They have local pickup a few blocks from the other side of Green Lake from where I live, and they got my order ready last night. Rode around the lake the long way. Picked up stuff. Got ready as usual, maybe even a little earlier than usual. Was an hour late to an important meeting because I didn't check my schedule first thing. Arg!

Speaking of last night, spent much of it at the Unicorn socializing with a queer Russian immigrant woman who is not the Siberian Siren. She's a little older than the SS, so she had tales of just how sick the Soviets could be. Good times. The Unicorn, by the way, has truffle popcorn, which is utter crack.

I guess my new Fluevog Truth Alisons are mine now: I blistered my feet walking all over the Hill & bled on them. I'll be bringing band-aids to Pride.