Vancouver itself is also like a volcano trying to look dormant but in fact is a hysterical disorganized city trying really hard to hide their crap from the outer World and getting nowhere with it.
It’s a nice place to take long walks because most of the public buses drivers were really rude a$$holes. When I went there in 2005, I was suffering from gangrene in my right leg and took some time to get off the bus. No longer than a regular elder person, but I mostly got the door shut on my face and more than once had to get off next stop . The drivers wouldn’t give a f$%k about me.
So, instead of walking to the driver and knocking their Indian turbans or undoing their butch hair, I took to walking to and from the hotel and in the cold and rain it was a really painful experience. My hotel was fine but the food per se around the city was hard and salty. Most young guys and women had hard protruding bellies which is a sign of not have had a proper s$%t for weeks. The food wasn’t easy to digest and even I suffered from a blocked intestine until one day I drank so much milk that I simply blocked the toilet with hard stone like s$%t. It was horrifying. I had to call the hotel staff for help because I couldn’t get all that stone hard crap down the drain no matter how I tried to flush it out. An Asian guy came by with an impressive plunger and worked miracles with it but not before I broke the tank’s lid trying to stop the water from overflowing all over the floor. A humiliating situation and the very first for me, but that guy was used to it and was casually competent. It made me go on a crusade around Vancouver’s suburbs looking for that particular plunger but without success. Imagine Narita’s retarded customs twats asking me what that thing was for… creepy.
The weird thing too was that mostly young females had protruding s$%t filled stomachs and didn’t even try to keep their navels covered on the cold November days. Together with really big round arses or no arses at all, carrying a fag and stumbling along in drunken stupor, it was a nightmarish vision from Hell to me and I suspect they need to visit the doctor often for laxatives, BUT when I visited Boots in the central area, sure enough a rather wide section was dedicated to laxatives and milk like bottles for heart burn. I too started to suffer from heart burn and bought some, but the sticky strawberry like taste hid the chalk flavour and I gave up trying to combat heartburn with it and took to the candy like stuff being sold in the same Boots store.
In a nutshell, VC sucks and some guy I met here that had returned to have his liver and knees fixed told me VC was the main port of entrance for heavy drugs that were lately being smuggled into the States every hour by car. A guy called Howie I used to see should know all about it being an ex-Hells Angel himself and a real alcoholic delusional SOB. He lived here for more than a decade and was a fixture in the Shinjuku Dubliner’s and sleazy piss alley nearby because as time went by and his alcoholism increased, he took to carrying cans of Chu-hi in his working brief case and kept on guzzling them more and more as the day went by. By the time he popped in the Dubliners he was already zonked and since he had a nasty temper and carried a punch he scared the punters s$%tless.
Somehow ol’ Peter and I never got abuse from him and he could be a charmer too. His Coca- Cola bottle-lens like glasses made his eyes look enormous and most people at first took him for a real geek. They soon realized their mistakes when Howie started to get drunk and challenging them to arm wrestling that quickly led to obscenities and a shove or two – believe me, nobody wanted to get a shove or a cuddle from Howie. His alcoholism led him to become even more delusional and he got the boot from Sofia University which is a notorious shit hole for gaijin losers and there are a lot of horror stories about sex for graduation points tales, etc. It reminds me that any religious related schools or Universities should be shut down. Sofia U. makes Nova, Shane and Interact (Mormon owned) look like a f$%king nursery when compared.
But that’s another story.
Anyway, old Howie remarried with a nice Odawara lady who had two lovely kids, lived with her family and never had a hole to hide in that house. Even his computer was according to him, in the kitchen / dining room. He being an introvert, he really had to drink even more of that cheap poison (chu-hi) to alleviate his stress.
Now, Chu-Hi I got hooked on for a year before deciding to kill myself in Paris. A sweet but addictive concoction and when mixed with gin and Okinawan Lemon it really carried a punch. LOL and to think I was in the same pits as Howie or Jeremy the slush, worse still a drunken obnoxious Scott nicknamed Mad Jock (he raped and beat up women and was working as a sort of solicitor for construction companies because he always got fired. I forgot the real name that job had – purveyor maybe), but anyway it really drove me nuts with the pain from gangrene and the fact that I was no better than them losers and bring scared shitless of docs and injections, gave me the final solution: go to Paris, get a Walter or a Belgium FN from my FFL pals and shoot myself.
One thing led to another and Howie’s liver gave up the ghost. He was broke, his wife and parents were fed up with his bouts and his little delusional compulsive money borrowing or crap cheap scams and if not for Peter he wouldn’t have made it into that airplane to Canada nearly dead and on into rehab and AA group therapy and his miracle like recovery. A tough old rascal Howie is. ” Too tough to die ” he likes to say. Soon he was out of booze but not out if his delusional scams and he targeted Japanese female losers that came to Canada to look for absolution and hopefully find a Kanuck stupid enough to take their scarred carcass. Howie was and is the perfect buzzard for these run-out losers and he started his ” koko dake no hanashi ” scams all over minus the booze – I hope.
I used the excuse to go and visit Howie for old times’ sake but was scouting the area to terminate my equally screwed up life, unsuccessfully.
VC was no place to croak.
It pi$$ed me off too much. If it was a peaceful place I might have done it. The Ainu here in Hokkaido connected me with natives generically cousin like tribes and they would sell me a 12 gauge should I decide to blow my brains out. As soon as I got out of that airport, I took the public shitty Bagdad like stinking bus and true to its nickname I had given it, it straight away blew its engine and a rear tyre right before leaving town. F$%king incredible weird situation it was. We had to wait in the cold sleet for another bus to arrive. It was 40 minutes late and then both drivers chatted and looked at the blown up engine that not only blew black smoke but old mud all over (got pic to prove it ). I suspected the VC official public bus company never ever bothered to clean or overhauling the fucking engines of the mud that had accumulated for years and that caused the old piece of junk to blow up.
But why the f$%k it blew when I got onto it, is still a mystery to me.
Anyway VC is no heavenly place for the weak and suicidal like yours truly. That and more as time went by made me decide to return to the Land of the Unrising Sun and target Paris, the dark city of light and dog pooh infested streets to terminate myself .
But that’s another story .