Off To Vancouver Again Tomorrow
Every time I think they’ve finally killed me dead on “Reaper,” they bring me back to life. Which is terrific if you are, as I am, unemployed and practically unemployable. Tomorrow I jet off to Vancouver to film another episode of the series, to be followed by yet another in December.
There is much to like about Vancouver, especially if you like Asian people, as I do. Vancouver is pretty much an Asian outpost at this point, filled with attractive young Easterners with technologically superior cell phones. They have chic haircuts and good shoes and their average age seems to be twenty-one. They are a sexy, sexy group. Canadians on the other hand, all look a little Michael Moore. Not necessarily as heavy or bearded, but they all share a congenial doughiness that gives them a friendly appearance, sort of like cartoon bears. Unlike bears, though, they don’t steal your garbage.
Vancouver is a clean city, stuffed with new condominium towers that have all been erected in the last six weeks. The buildings all look as though they are made from plastic, which is an unlikely building material for condominiums, but I am no architect. Who lives in these buildings is anybody’s guess. Asians, probably.
My favorite tourist destination is the small area where the city’s junkies hang out. This is called the “Downtown Eastside,” and what’s nice is, you can walk there from anyplace in the city to get a close-up view of scabby zombies wandering the streets looking for stuff to inject. A word of warning: most of them will not allow you to take a “souvenir photo” unless you give them a dollar (although savvy tourists can haggle over the price). The whole walking tour of the area shouldn’t take more than twenty minutes. Don’t bring a lot of cash or anything shiny.
(Note the cranes building evermore plastic condominium towers)
Of course when I’m in Vancouver, I spend most of my free time at the Edgewater Casino, a modestly sized, dumpy outfit on the water. I go there because they’ve got the town’s best poker room and I have a gambling problem. And also because whenever you show up someplace outside of your hometown to do a TV show they have to give you per diem. Sixty bucks a day. If you’re there for four days, as I will be, that’s over two hundred dollars. What am I going to do with that money? Eat? Hell to the no! I’m going to play games of chance with like-minded individuals, all of whom are as degenerate as myself. The difference between me and the junkies in Downtown Eastside? Track marks. That’s about it.
Shopping is also good in Vancouver, if you go for that sort of thing. Lots of clothing stores, shoe stores, crepe shops, and Canadian souvenir shops. If you’re wondering what Canadian souvenirs look like, I’ll tell you: they’re generally sweatshirts and t-shirts that say “Canada.” That’s pretty much it. I guess it’s hard for souvenir manufacturers to come up with lots of iconic Canadian imagery for the simple reason that there isn’t any. I mean, really, what do you think of when you think of Canada? Bryan Adams? I have never seen even a single Bryan Adams t-shirt at one of these shops. Ditto for fellow Canadian Jason Priestly.
If you’re thinking of going to Vancouver, bring an umbrella. It’s true what they say about the weather – it’s very rainy. It rains every day but nobody seems to mind because most people are usually indoors watching hockey, which is on television everywhere at all times. If you didn’t hate hockey before arriving in Canada, you will definitely hate it by the time you leave. It’s inescapable. Every network shows nothing but hockey. The music network, the comedy network. Every network. That’s why all the Canadian actors have to leave Canada. Because, unless they are good at playing hockey players, there is simply no work. Curiously, though, you don’t really hear people talking about hockey. It just exists – like air. People don’t usually talk about air, either, but you can’t escape it. Same with hockey in Vancouver. So that’s terrible.
So it should be a fun trip. If nothing else, I get to see my friend Ken Marino, whose new movie “Role Models” got off to a smashing start this weekend. I’m not in it, which may help explain its success.