Olympic nightmare continues...

It has been a bad week. It started off wrong on Monday morning when I learned that my bus, the #6 Davie, has been removed from service until March, probably so there would be more buses to serve Olympic routes. I walked to Seymour, took the #7 to Harbour Centre and took the #10 most of the way back after work. The buses coming over the bridge into downtown are mostly full by Davie St to it will be difficult to find space sometimes, especially on poor weather days.

Overnight my bad digestion came to a head and I spent half the night on the toilet or nursing a sore stomach in bed. I eventually took an immodium to stop the diarrhea and called in sick. Fred and Eric left at 3am to receive a delivery at the restaurant and came back around 4:15. They didn't get up until 2pm the next day. Eric and I played board games before dinner.

Wednesday my energy was still low from irregular sleep and my upset digestion. I walked to work. There are more people on the sidewalks even at this hour, though that might have something to do with bus service for the locals being removed. The temporary commissionaire at work is a moron who believes he must carefully study my ID every time I return from a short break, even though he knows me by name. I am afraid I have shown him very little patience. I also avoid taking my scheduled breaks away from the office so I won't need to see him.

Thursday morning I wake up to find that Fred has infected my computer with a trojan malware that blocks access to my email and MS Word documents. I can't reboot or bring up task master. I can't even play games. I can still use the internet though, so I access my email through my server and add posts to my blog. Fred has left me a note saying he knows what the malware is and will remove it when he can. That isn't going to happen anytime soon as he works until the wee hours, sleeps until 2 and goes to work at 3.

Thursday night I go to the Laurie Anderson concert at the Vancouver Playhouse at Dunsmuir and Hamilton. There is, of course, no bus service as most of the streets are closed to traffic. I head out around 7pm, shortly before the Canadian men's hockey team scores the deciding goal against Switzerland in an overtime shoot out. The streets burst into a wild testosterone-charged fury as youths pour out of the bars and restaurants waving Canadian flags and charge erratically through the streets with no regard for anyone's safety. Certainly not mine. At times I cling to fencing to building walls as they pass screaming.

The noise builds as I head east on Smithe to Granville. Though Granville is closed to vehicle traffic the crowds make the street and sidewalks almost impassable at points. I make my way slowly up the two blocks to Georgia, pausing to wait for gaps to appear. I cross Georgia and head east, downhill to Hamilton. The crowds and moving uphill against me and it is difficult to get access to the street corner ramps on either side of each street. I am greatly relieved to reach the Playhouse safely.

I wait in the lobby for Raspberry Showboat. I have brought my cell so I leave him a message on his cell, but he doesn't answer. The ticket I was sold is in the centre of the back row immediately next to the sound box. No one is seated beside me, and although the seats in front of me are full the view lines are good. Raspberry and Rosario enter and take seats six rows immediately in front of me. I catch Rosario's eye and they come to chat with me for a few minutes before the show begins.

It is an interesting show at times, though a bit draggy and pointless at other points. I realize how tired I am and fight off sleep and Anderson's monologues drag on to repetitive loops of black and white imagery projected around her. It's mostly talking with occasional bursts of discordant music (fiddles and sax) connecting disjointed subject matters. The quote that resonates with me the most is one she uses from Melville, after saying how the donkey and carrot method of self-motivation that worked for years has now failed her. The quote says the saddest is situation for a man is when he outlives his deities. How true that is for me!

My bladder is anxious to be emptied by the end of the show so I don't wait to hear out the full encore. The theatre boasts its accessibility. There's an elevator to the downstairs washroom but it has been shut off and no one is around to turn it on. I don't wait for Raspberry or Rosario, hoping instead to catch an available cab before the crowds pour out, but there are no cabs at all. While I am waiting I run into Daniel L and his sister. I chat a few minutes, lingering to catch Raspberry when he emerges, but I don't see him.

I decide to walk home along Dunsmuir, which proves to me much less crowded than Georgia. I turn south on Seymour before Dunsmuir begins to drop downhill, but I would have been wiser to follow it to Hornby before turning. There was a block long line up for the Olympic store in the Bay, even at this hour (10 pm), that consumes all the sidewalk except about 18". I cling tenaciously to the mesh fencing that separates me from the line up as I inch my way past partying friends and people pouring hot chocolate for those who are waiting. Others can step down onto the mostly deserted street to get around obstacles but I must be patient and plod my course carefully. My feet are killing me as I limp up Smithe and Hornby to my condo. I am so tired when I get in that I almost forget that my bladder needs to be emptied.

Cramps from constipation, instead of diarrhea, keep me awake half the night. Friday is long. I squeeze past the line up for Northern House on Hastings St to visit Dr. Taylor for my second shot of testosterone just before noon. I am feeling better as the week goes on but far from energetic. Fortunately the weather has been excellent all week, nothing but sunshine.

I spent last night in the amenity room downstairs watching the men's skeleton and women's curling. Canada (Jon Montgomery) won gold in the skeleton and the Canadian women defeat Denmark on the final rock, but I didn't get to see Michi Halilovich, the German competitor whose lover Robert I found accommodation for with Yves.

Robert arrived later Monday evening. I expected a call from him or Yves to say he had made it safely and perhaps a request to meet me. I heard nothing of the sort. I was hesitant to book for the Laurie Anderson concert or to make plans with anyone else in case he called, but I fretted for nothing. Thursday morning I left a message with Yves that I'd be available if they wanted to do anything with me this weekend. Of course, Robert and Michi have been consumed with Michi's skeleton races, but they are over now and they have less than a week left in town. Just as well I suppose. I have arranged for Raspberry to drop over this afternoon at 2 to help remove the trojan from my computer, and to meet Gerry and Danzante for Faerie coffee tomorrow morning, so I won't be able to visit with the Germans much even if they do want to meet me this weekend. I had planned to make them both a red 3-D stained glass maple leaf as a souvenir but now that seems like a waste of effort too.

It won't surprise me if as soon as I post this I get a call from Robert. But I won't hold my breath or wait in for them.