vacation from Hell

And so endeth Vacation 2016 (and mostly good riddance)

This vacation has been weird. Because my partner just started working a new job last month, we were unable to plan any kind of trip/camping together so I was largely left to devise my own set of fun vacation-type activities.

I failed.

Not only did I not plan any fun vacation-type activities, I did the opposite–I planned things like annual checkups, getting my ID renewed, and giving samples of urine and blood for science.

The first day I went for a run it rained. The last day I ran it was 30ºC at 9:30 in the morning. But at least I completed all nine runs, as I’d set out to do. Last year I ended run #1 with horrible pain in my right leg and didn’t run again until the new year. So there is that.

Of course, run #6 was highlighted by the infamous tree root incident, in which I snagged my left foot and went down hard on the gravel (the bruise on my hip is still spectacular-looking nine days later). I walked the Conifer and Spruce Loop trails again today to survey just how potentially hazardous they are if I decide to start running on them again (runs 7-9 were done sans optional side trails). What I discovered was one super large tree root that spans the entire width of the trail and is in a clear area. The only way to trip on this root would be to approach it with your eyes closed and maybe with your shoes tied together, too. The only other tree root was…the one I tripped on. If I run counter-clockwise it’s on the other side and out of the way. This means that the Conifer and Spruce Loop trails are actually a lot safer than the Cottonwood trail, a 2+ km stretch that is unavoidable and rife–rife, I say,–with all kinds of roots and wooden planks sticking out of the earth from when the area was a logging operation.

What else happened on this curiously unfun vacation?

On my run route I saw a python and a bobcat/lynx. A man approached me at the end of a run to say he’d just seen a bear up ahead, the way I was heading (I did not see the bear). If this was Australia I’d probably have been bitten by several poisonous things by now.

I lost my wallet. Granted, it was recovered about 15 minutes after I realized it was gone, but now I’m paranoid it’s going to again leap from my pocket as if it were both sentient and capricious.

Today–the last day of vacation–I witnessed a car accident. It was only a fender bender, fortunately. From my perspective it looked like a silver car was heading east down Government Street in Burnaby and a black car was turning left onto the street from the nearby Costco parking lot, filled with 10 gallon jars of mayonnaise. The black car went wide into the lane occupied by the silver car and physics asserted itself, with much scraping following and at least one piece of something or other popping off (a side mirror, I think). I walked down the block, crossed over to the other side and made my way to the cars, now pulled over with hazard lights blinking.

The man in the black car asked for my name and number. I provided them. The driver of the other car, an irascible older man, approached and asked what I saw. I told him. He responded, crankily, “So you’re saying I’m at fault?” I told him, no, I wasn’t saying who was at fault, I was only reporting what I saw, which was the black car hitting the silver car. He grumbled and went to confer with his wife. The driver of the silver car told me he tried to get out of the way. I shrugged. I couldn’t tell. I went home. I haven’t heard from anyone. I hope I don’t.

What else happened?

On the plus side, I did not get sick. This kind of amazes me, as it was a natural given the way things went. I could still wake up with a head cold tomorrow.

My weight remained pretty much the same, despite numerous runs and long walks and reduced snacking.

I have had difficulty sleeping at times. My mind whirs like that top in Inception. I have often gotten up and gone for a walk because of this restlessness, this weird inability to sit still and just relax (note: I do not get up and go for walks after going to bed, I just flop around like a fish but smell much better).

I’ve cooked and cleaned a lot. More than I normally would. I broke the Swiffer mop and had to buy a replacement.

I saw the new Star Trek movie. It was better than the previews made it look, but it was still just good, not great.

I intended to start reading a book or two. I did not. I bought several, though, and I’ll try starting again tonight. So much free time to read and all I managed was a few magazines and some websites.

I tried to write. I am not too far off one-post-per-day on the blog, though a large part of that is due to those nine runs. I have not written any fiction. Writer’s block? It feels more like paralysis right now. I sit at the keyboard and my mind freezes. I know all the tricks, I know I should free write or try a prompt. Instead I push away from the desk and pace about or go for another walk.

I am an expert at walking.

I don’t really want to go to work tomorrow. I feel like I still haven’t unwound yet. I need a holiday from my vacation. At least the Labor Day weekend is only a few weeks away.

The last seven paragraphs have started with “I.” I am talking about myself a lot.

I am sorry (ho ho).

Anyway, that’s about it. Next vacation I’m going to actually plan things out. I may go away somewhere. Somewhere nice, without bobcats or tree roots or car accidents. I’d like that.

The cat in the lake

Today I decided to go for a nice walk around Burnaby Lake because it was really hot and I’m kind of dumb. But it did allow me to see that the resurfacing of the Southshore trail is pretty much complete, so my nemesis the excavator will probably not be there to try to run me down tomorrow.

Probably.

In the meantime, as I walked and sweated on my clockwise jaunt, I crossed the 4 km mark, ventured over the rowing pavilion parking lot and entered a stretch of the trail that is characterized by tall grass on the lake-side, giving the area a kind of everglade feel to it. At least it’s what I think an everglade would feel like. I confess I haven’t been to one, not even a fake one like they probably have at Disney World.

I noticed a not-quite-small brown dog sort of shimmying into the tall grass, perhaps to get out of the sun. It was an odd kind of move and looking at the trail up ahead I could not see any kind of owner for said dog. Also odd.

But it was not a dog. It was this:

Big kitty at lake
I think this is a lynx, a bobcat or more likely a lynx/bobcat hybrid. A boblynx.

I apologize for the less-than-stellar quality of the shot. The cat was in the shade and I was reluctant to call it out into the sun, since it was a wild animal and could have ripped my throat open if so inclined.

My first thought was a lynx. I later looked at lynx photos and it appears to have characteristics of both a lynx and a bobcat and hybrids are possible, so I think this was the possibly rare boblynx.

It seemed a bit skittish and unsure and wasn’t acting at all aggressive. I remained calm, trying to remember what I’d seen on one of those TV shows, Survive or DIE! or something like that. They were talking about what to do when you encounter a mountain lion but maybe the advice would translate on a scaled-down wild cat. As I recalled, you are supposed to make noise, stand your ground and if American, shoot it repeatedly with the assault rifle you’re probably carrying. Also something about throwing rocks to prove you’re the alpha. I didn’t have any rocks and throwing them at a non-aggressive animal literally less than two meters away from me did not seem like a good idea.

I clapped my hands and told it to shoo, to scoot. It stood there and seemed embarrassed for me. I don’t blame it, really. I then took a few pictures while it just hung around, undecided on what to do.

At this point I had three choices:

  1. Turn around and head back
  2. Proceed forward, giving the cat as wide a berth as possible
  3. Stand there until one of us got bored and left

Option #1 seemed unwise. Turning your back on a wild animal is never a good idea. Turning your back on a domestic animal is never a good idea. I don’t trust bobcats or cows.

Option #3 seemed problematic as I have a high threshold for boredom and it’s possible the cat had no concept of boredom and would wait until it got hungry instead, at which point I would be the most convenient food source.

I opted for #2 and as soon as I took one step forward, the cat majestically leaped into the grass and disappeared. I mean, that sucker cleared about a meter from a standing position. It was scary and impressive.

I continued my walk, keeping an eye behind me until I was safely out of the immediate area.

I expect to see a giraffe the next time I’m at the lake.

I call it Un-Vacation

How is my vacation progressing? Let me provide an update!

At 8:30 this morning I went to a nearby medical lab (one of the perks of living near a hospital, these things are more omnipresent than Starbucks) and submitted myself to the tests my doctor wanted. This involved collecting urine, blood and poop (ew). The urine was the ol’ “pee in a jar” routine, though it was actually a small bottle. I’m still surprised at how easy it is to pee on demand, as if our ancient ancestors needed the ability for survival and we still carry the trait today.

The blood was a bit of a concern. The last time I had blood taken a few years ago I fasted a lot longer than necessary. They recommend 8-10 hours and I fasted something like 16-18 because I went later in the morning. The net result was partway through the blood collection I went very pale and felt like my blood was being literally drained away–which it was, but it felt more like all my blood was being drained away, not just a sample of it. The person taking the sample asked if I wanted to lie down. I did, but not there, as it seemed too much like admitting defeat to a simple medical procedure to lie down right there in the lab. Plus my place is only two blocks away, I could crawl back if I had to. I felt weird and gross for a few hours after. Tip: don’t fast for hours more than you need to before giving blood.

This time I had fasted appropriately and the whole thing finished quickly and without incident.

The poop needs to be applied to a small stick. They give you paper to poop on and a sheet of instructions on how to poop (I’m not sure if you can also poop on the instructions, but it wouldn’t surprise me). Pooping on demand is harder than peeing. I felt weirdly self-conscious even though I was alone (you poop at home, not at the lab). When I was done, I put the stick in the provided container and the Biohazard-labeled baggie. Could my poop kill someone? Maybe, I’m no expert. As instructed, the sample is in the fridge until I take it to the lab tomorrow. I’m pretty sure this is the only time I will have my poop in the fridge.

After donating nearly every form of liquid and solid my body can produce to science, I thought, “What else would be fun to do on vacation?” and it came to me: sweeping and mopping. Yay! Here’s a typical vacation list as proof:

Things to Do on Vacation
Swim
Surf
Relax in the sun or shade
Sip lemonade
Play games
Sweep
Mop

See?

I swept the kitchen and then got out the Swiffer WetJet®™ to mop. After a few majestic strokes, the floor was looking cleaner, but I heard a distressing crack from the handle of the Swiffer. Just as I was finishing the top of the handle broke off. This made the last bit of mopping–or swiffing, if you prefer–rather tricky. I was bummed, partly because I’d have to spend money on a replacement, but mostly because it meant I’d have to go out and actually get the replacement.

In checking the price online for said replacement, I noticed in some customer reviews that the handle breaking is apparently a common issue. I guess I should feel lucky ours lasted as long as it did. Maybe some duct tape will fix it? I could get duct tape instead. It’s cheaper than a new mop and more versatile, to boot.

Now you’re thinking, you donated blood, urine, poop, swept and, with some effort, mopped. Surely this vacation day is done.

But no, there was more!

I thought a nice walk around Central Park would be nice (the logic is infallible), followed by a trip to Metrotown for some window-shopping (not actually shopping for windows, more like books and stuff). I took the SkyTrain to Patterson station, tapped out like a good little Compass card tapping-person, and sauntered off into Central Park, where I zigzagged through the many trails, utterly failing to navigate the “Terry Fox 5K walk”, despite numerous signs pointing the way. I swear the signs have arrows actually pointing at each other.

After about 45 minutes of quiet contemplation (well, except for the regular rumble of the nearby SkyTrain) I headed over to Metrotown. I scoped out Indigo and spotted the book Aurora by Kim Stanley Robinson. I’d heard some good things about it so I pulled out my phone to note the title in my OneNote app (I have a section for books). It was when I put the phone back in my pocket that I noticed something was wrong.

To be more precise, something was missing.

To be even more precise, my wallet was missing.

Little alarms went off in my head.

I had not taken my wallet out since tapping out at Patterson so I was puzzled as to how it escaped. I keep it in a front pocket so if someone tried to pick the pocket there’s a decent chance I’d see or feel something (“Is your hand in my pocket or are you just happy to see me?”) but perhaps pickpockets have stepped up their game. More likely I failed to put the wallet all the way back in the admittedly shallow pocket and it shimmied up and out as I strolled about.

Stupid wallet.

Thinking there was a chance I had accidentally pulled the wallet out along with my phone in the bookstore, I scanned the immediate area. No sign of it. I had a staff member check to see if some Good Samaritan had already turned it in. Nope. I left, retracing my steps.

About fifteen minutes in I get a phone call from an unknown number.

“Is this Stan James?”
“It is.”
“Did you recently lose a wallet?”
“In fact, I did.”
“Were you in Central Park?”
“About twenty minutes ago.”
“Your wallet has been turned in here at the community police office [gives directions].”
*excited noise*
“I’ll be there in five minutes.” I was literally two blocks away from the office when the staffer called.

I didn’t find out who turned my wallet in, other than it was a pair of women the community police office staffer thought were “GVRD workers” based on their dress. Anyway, I can’t thank them in person but I can thank them here so thank you, nice ladies!

The wallet was untouched, including the $10 in relatively worthless Canadian money stuffed in it. Ironically I started putting bills back in my wallet after I was pretty sure I’d lost a $10 bill from the same pair of shorts with the same shallow pockets. I shall now call them Devil Shorts, for that is what they are. Tomorrow I may go looking for cargo shorts or anything with a zipper on it. Maybe a chastity belt than can also hold ID and some keys. Something.

Finally, my partner came home, complained about how the long commute to and from his new workplace is, claiming it leaves him no time in the evening to do anything except go to bed and start the whole thing over, like some kind of Groundhog Day thing. This apparently renders life as not worth living, though he loves the actual new job. He then went to bed two hours earlier than he needed to as an ironic twist. People are weird.

And that was my vacation day today. Technically there’s still time for a mongoose to attack me, so I’m staying on my guard until I go to bed. Hopefully there is no mongoose in the bed.