It's a sunny day on Commercial Drive. People lazily mill about the streets in the afternoon sun. Across from Grandview Park, there we sit on the patio of Havana, a Cuban inspired local restaurant. We drink red wine sangria and watch in an absent minded fashion as "Cloudman", one of the Drive's many resident eccentrics, twirls his stick (poorly) in a acid-hazed hangover.
We are dressed in jeans and loose checkered shirts. Our sandals are a raggedy two years old. The height of informal relaxed fashion. I look like Huck Finn - Vancouver Redux. Everyone else that we see seems the same way. Tinny Latin music echoes over the din of the crowd. At least it does until its overwhelmed by the distant bass thump of a JT (Justin T) spewing Hummer.
As the Hummer drives down the street past us, we get a glimpse of a white urban city dweller. Dressed in startched white collar, sporty blue blazer and fancy new Yaletownesque shades. Beside him sits his plush bimboesque barbie, who curls her hair absent mindedly.
As the Hummer spews its fumes the Drive rises up. The finger, the downturned thumb are displayed. Others catcall. Then there are the yellers - I don't need to repeat what they say - use your imagination. Cloudman continues to twirl his stick absentmindedly.And then the Hummer driver is gone.
He's just gotten a taste of exclusivity (if he noticed).
We noticed. It seems that the Drivers are trying to say something to the interloper. They say that he's part of the undesired group that we don't really want in our community. Take your gaz-guzzler away from here and don't come back.
Was it his disregard for the environment that inspired such wrath? Or his materialism? The symbol of the military-industrial complex he brought to ground zero for Vancouver Peacenicks? Or maybe we were all jealous of his "success"?
More importantly, what law did he break to justify our rudeness? And what makes the Drive any different (or better?) from the most exclusive golf club in the country?
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