Update 2

On the road. Finally...

Yesterday, leaving behind a wake of tears and waving hands, we left Victoria on the 11 A.M. ferry. Well, okay, we missed that one (Chris needed a last-minute haircut, you see), but the 12 o’clock worked just fine...

Let me tell you, a whirlwind week it has been. Telephones and computers working overtime to have everything set and ready for the departure. People madly stuffing suitcases, pulling hair, jumping up and down, running around like chopped chickens. Last-minute meetings with sponsors, last-second accumulation of necessities - hockey sticks, water pistols, bongo drums (don’t ask, Erik’s idea), granola bars, pillows, fishing nets… you name it, and you could most likely find it somewhere packed into the depths of our beautiful blue motor-home. (Have you ever, by the way, driven around in a vehicle with pictures of your face blown up to six or seven times actual size and plastered across its sides? Try it, it’s a blast) The clock was ticking away, and still so much to do. Conferences scheduled, billets finalized, internet-access solidified, web-site tweaked, promotional packages mailed… Bah, this list of long-and-boring, I’ll stop it right there. Simply enough… A lot of work, little of time.

But, somehow - I still don’t know how - it was done. Finished. Packed up. Settled. All that remained was to trundle down the driveway (then wait, shaking the head in resignation, as Val hopped out and ran back inside to catch that last phone call – after all, it could have been the Pope, right?) and drive away.

Anyways, to move things ahead; there we were, squeezing this beast of a bus onto a ferry, then pounding through downtown Vancouver’s too-small streets, while trying extremely hard not to side-swipe poles, up-root traffic lights, or bash bumpers. A short time later, we pulled up at the hotel.

Karina (Hotel liaison extraordinaire) came racing to the curb. “It’s all set, just like you wanted,” she said. “Three rooms. GM John on his way over to meet with you. The A/V guys just finishing up with the press conference room right now, so it’ll be all ready for the morning.”

Ah, the press conference. So easy, it seems, watching on TV as politicians smile, rock stars bang their heads, hockey players pull sweaters over their heads… But a far different story it is, when at you the lights are blazing, at your head the five fat black television cameras are aimed, upon your words the rows upon rows of scribbling journalists are poised and hanging… So a nervous bunch it was, this night before, writing speeches until the wee hours. “Uh, hey, Val, let me read a bit of what I’ve got so far. Tell me what you think, okay?” “…Uh, yeah, you’re probably right... I’ll give it another shot.” And that, I’m afraid, was the end of day one.